Darlings we have been so busy! Have you been reading us on She Knows the Rules and 2DayFM? I hope so. And in the meantime all of a sudden it’s Grand Final time. We are overjoyed/heartbroken. As in … what do we do when it’s over? I’m already completely baffled about what to do this Saturday night with no Super Saturday on tv. Is this when you’re meant to go out? Like … with the young people? Cause God knows I refuse to start watching soccer. THAT WOULD JUST BE MASOCHISTIC. If that’s the alternative then I’m seriously considering taking up cross-stitch or a valium addiction or something equally thrilling and productive instead.

Sup Papua! (Pic. via News Limited / the Daily Telegraph)

So in the interest of delaying the end of footy season a lil bit longer, let’s talk about the Prime Ministers XIII. Or as Kiki keeps accidentally calling them, the PM’S XI. She cares not for the wingers! 11 players only!

We were all over this business the second it was announced, because apparently we have EXACTLY THE SAME TASTE as K.Rudd. Every time he picks this team he ends up putting in some of our fave boys who we could’ve sworn no one but us had noticed. It’s … serendipity, or something. We are totally psychically connected. Call me Kevin! We can shop together!

This year he picked out Terry ‘T.Camps’ Campese, beloved by everyone at the Errol office, especially after that time he threw a ball at Dean Young’s head. He also picked the frontrunner for Oh Errol’s Neatest Man in League award 2009: Robbie Farah.

HI ROBBIE! So neat! So efficient! So focussed! He’s like some kind of … Robbiebot. A Robbiebot in a Kangaroos training shirt. A Robbiebot … with visible nipples? Evidently they’re using the latex manufacturer to make the Robbiebot as they used to make the Batman outfits back when George Clooney played Batman.

HOLY PLASTIC NIPPLES BATMAN!

And the boys were too good for the Kumuls. They took out the game 42-18, which, to be honest, I’d be pretty damn happy with. The PNG boys are kinda badass. Apparently they’re also a bit prone to a spear tackle, and I can only assume they’re glad they didn’t injure anyone cause we Errol girls can be terrifying when someone messes with one of our Errol boyz.

Luckily, Dimples Dugan came home with his dimples in tact.

Just one teeny tiny problem. Um …. so while the game was going on, they kind of … well, this is awkward. How do you say this, exactly? PNG lost some prisoners. Happens all the time right? A few wardens go on strike, 54 inmates cut a hole in the fence, and all of a sudden they get away because the police are busy guarding a footy match. Whatever. COULD HAPPEN TO ANYONE. Prisoners really wanted to go to the game too, kk?

Everyone in this picture loves footy.

And after captaining the team last year, the awesome that is Nathan Hindmarsh was left out of the PM’s squad. Mainly, this is probably because he has to, you know, play a Grand Final. But something tells me he’s pretty happy to stay in Sydney and chill with his boys. Hindy be pimpinnn.

And yes, by ‘his boys’, I mean Matt Keating and Feleti Mateo. NO, NOT YOU LUKE BURT! YOU STAY OVER THERE IN THE CORNER ALONE. I DON’T CARE IF YOU HAVE A BOO BOO.

Plus it means Hindy gets to enjoy the rampant Parra fever that’s gripped Sydney at the moment.

THE HAYNE TRAIN WILL HAUNT MY DREAMS.
Pic. Justin Lloyd.

Don’t people love a bandwagon? If I was a little bit kinder, I might describe it the way the Herald Sun did:

Astounded by the rush of support from previously latent fans, Parramatta officials are still devising a plan to accommodate an expected throng of 20,000 partygoers should they complete a fairytale premiership.

CEO Paul Osborne is hoping to present the team to the faithful at Parramatta Stadium, which has seating for 22,000 and is capable of hosting thousands more on-field.

PREVIOUSLY LATENT FANS. What a great phrase for all those incredibly annoying people on facebook who haven’t uttered a WORD about footy all year now littering my feed with 85 updates on how they are sooooo happy Parra are in the finals. I’m glad you’re supporting league and all but YOUR STATUS UPDATES ARE ANNOYING. STOP IT IMMEDIATELY.

Pic. Gary Graham

Obviously this doesn’t apply if you are this guy, from the Daily Telegraph website, who has turned his Holden Commodore into a Parra Eels tribute. That is fucking amazing and he can do whatever he likes, even if that involves multiple annoying status updates.

Meanwhile down in Melbourne – as far as I can tell – the Storm threw an open training session so that Melbourne fans from far and wide could come and meet Billy Slater. That’s all that happened, right?

He’s like …. the people’s princess. He’s totally the Princess Di of footy. They love him! Even I have a weird fondness for Billy Slater and we all know that I hate everyone. What can I say? He won me over a) with his lovely skin and b) when everyone hated him for that brief period back in 2008. I am contrary like that.

Father Bob baptises Billy with holy water in a Gatorade bottle. Even God loves Billy Slater!

I can’t wait till Billy starts opening hospital cancer wards and arriving at Gala events in show-stopping one shouldered blue gowns.

Then, of course, there’s the other reason Hindy needed to stay in town: Grand Final breakfast. Also known as A Great Day for Sassy. I’ve already discussed how much I love seeing a footy player in a suit. I’ve said it before but it’s mesmerising. There’s something delightful about seeing someone look so uncomfortable … you know?

Exhibit A: buttons don’t usually go there, right?

Pic. Phil Hillyard

And this year Hindy made the whole thing even more enjoyable with the Nathan Hindmarsh comedy hour. (He’s available for birthdays/functions/corporate retreats if you’re wondering. Deposit non-refundable).

Pic. Phil Hillyard

According to Hindy:

“I think Haynesy wrote in Cosmopolitan magazine that his body is a blessing,” said Hindmarsh at the NRL grand final breakfast on Thursday.

“That is enough motivation for me to try harder on the field.”

And doesn’t Ben Smith love it? He’s an easy laugh, like us. Heart.

Meanwhile Dan Dan Mortimer was apparently writing during the brekkie, and now thanks to Friday’s Daily Telegraph, we know that it is. (Hint: it’s not, as I suspected, a note reading DO YOU WANT TO SKIP DOUBLE P.E. THIS AFTERNOON? with two little ticky-boxes marked ‘yes’ and ’no … cause I’M A LOSER’. 

But the Eels of 2009 looked as though they were headed for a Sunday afternoon barbecue as players joked and giggled their way through yesterday’s Grand Final Breakfast at Darling Harbour’s Convention Centre.

Nathan Hindmarsh pulled faces at the 650-strong audience and laughed about his loose shorts, Jarryd Hayne made gags about Hindmarsh, Fuifui Moimoi smiled as he hid from Fox Sports’ cameras, while Daniel Mortimer wrote a note, which Hindmarsh stole and gave to coach Daniel Anderson.

“Yes, you can have some water, Daniel,” Anderson said.

Don’t you love it? I love it.

In fact, the only person I can think of who loves GF breakfast more than I do is Fui Fui Moi Moi. Just look at him, so full of love!

Pic. Phil Hillyard

Apparently also not really able to tie a tie, but conveniently there’s no tie in a footy uniform, is there? Also BET FELETI TOTALLY LOVES DOING IT. Makes him feel needed.

Pic. Phil Hillyard

Which brings us to tips. You already know who we want to win (or you should know if you’ve been reading She Knows the Rules).

But we mean actual tips. Shit we’d put money on.

Kiki says the Storm. She says they’ve got too much finals experience, they’re soming off the motivation of a stinging lost in last year’s GF, and also, they are pure evil. Her reasoning is that you don’t get a happy ending two years in a row.

I say Parra. And I say this with full disclosure that I’m tipping with my heart, not my head. Parra are – like us – delightfully inconsistent. But like us, sometimes the battlers come out on top. I think that Parramatta are motivated and feeling blessed enough by the Gods and the NRL judiciary to go into the game with enough confidence to throw the ball around and really freak Melbourne out. And with a style of attack that’s only a few weeks old, I think Melbourne might crack.

Lozzy refuses to put in a tip and explanation because she just started a swishy new job yesterday and is “so compeltely fucking exhausted” from being nice to strangers/trying to find the bathroom/getting public transport/dealing with IT that she cannot even talk.

In the meantime, email me with enquiries for the Nathan Hindmarsh comedy hour. I take a 10% commission. Hindy’s totally cool with it.

You knew we were gonna say it … didn’t you?  After our lengthy discussion last week about whether Queenslanders have trotters instead of feet (they totally do) we finally have proof. Proof in the form of Queenslander Ben Hannant and his positive test for Swine Flu.

WE KNEW IT. WE LOVE BEING RIGHT.

So in the interests of protecting the non-porcine members of the NRL, all the Queensland Origin boys are being quarantined from their regular teammates. No more eating at the same trough, sleeping in the same barn and rolling in the same mud. Instead it’s all face-masks and Tamiflu for the maroons this week.

The NSWRL consider redesigning the Blues’ State of Origin uniforms.

And I would like to take this opportunity to say: You bastards! Usually it’s my favourite thing of all when embarassing things happen to Queenslanders .. but today I found out the adorable Bert from Country Rugby League has been quarantined. THOSE FILTHY QUEENSLANDERS INFECTED NSW TOO! Is this some kind of Queensland sabotage scheme to help them win a fourth Origin series? We always knew all bad things came out of Queensland.

Meanwhile we are bloggers (ie we have no lives) so if Bert gets lonely he should just call us and we’ll come over with movies and braid his hair and entertain him. We can wear SARS masks in our NRL team colours and everything. We love you, Bert!

Bert works remotely from his Swine Flu bubble.

I’ll admit though, I am starting to feel a little bit sorry for Ben Hannant. First he gets publically outed with the runs, now he’s the NRL’s first Swine Flu casualty. Either there’s someone out there with a Ben Hannant voodoo doll and a really black sense of humour, or he played some really embarassing practical jokes on the other kids in primary school and has some violent humiliation karma stored up in the universe.

Ben Hannant gets increasingly lonely and desperate for friends in quarantine.

If I wasn’t scared of a) getting Swine Flu, and b) getting poked in the eye by one of his trotters, I would totally offer to give him a hug.

This story would also be a whole lot funnier if I wasn’t writing this …. from Queensland. We came up for a little long weekend Errol conference on the Gold Coast, and to see the Titans play the Dragons on Monday night, now we find ourselves in the middle of a fucking rugby league Swine Flu drama. Nothing worse than trying to deal with Swine Flu on a hangover. Right, Robbie Farah?

Lucky for all of us Israel Folau and Sam Thaiday have been holding jumpers over their faces while they walk around being filmed by the press. That’ll save us! Nothing stops disease like a knitted acrylic!

At least the Broncos tried. Apparently no one at the Dragons remembered to tell Darius ‘Astro’ Boyd that he is a Swine Flu pariah and wasn’t meant to be wandering around in the locker room at Skilled Stadium before the Dragons played the Titans.

And yes, that is Astro Boyd loitering in front of a bottle recycling bin, even though he is quite clearly not holding anything even close to a bottle. It’s possible this is because he is poorly informed about recycling, and just doesn’t understand what yellow lids mean. But I am 99% sure it was because he was ronery and just really wanted someone to talk to since the rest of the Dragons keep ignoring him cause he never passes the ball. I guess that’s a good thing, cause it means they probably won’t be infected. Kiki says thanks for being a ball-hog, Darius. V. considerate of you.

Turns out that one good thing about sucking as much as my Roosters do this season is that when you have no players selected for Origin, you get to stay safe from disease. We is healthy, healthy losers. I’m sorry, what did you say? Did you say I am clutching desperately at straws to distract myself from the fact that my team is now at the bottom of the ladder?

Pic. Anthony Johnson / smh.com.au

Well spotted, cause I was. On Sunday night when I was getting my face on for a night on the town in Surfers, Lozzy and Kiki kindly got me out of the shower and into the hall just so they could tell me that the Sharks had won a game … and my team was officially coming last. I literally lay down in the hall in my towel motionless for a good five minutes. Being better than the Sharks was all I had!

To make up for their two wins in a row, though, the Sharks Club mustered up another scandal involving Tony Zappia and his resignation. Well done, Sharkies. David Gallop says the NRL are gonna leave them to their own devices and won’t have an intervention. I say that’s a wasted opportunity.

Have you ever seen Intervention? That show is AMAZING. It’s the most addictive television I’ve ever seen. You know it’s wrong but you just can’t help watching. One time I even cried. If I was in charge I’d totally be holding a Sharks intervention. They could hold it in the Shire and televise it to raise enough money to pay off the Sharks’ ridiculous debt. People love watching other people who have worse problems than they do. It would be a ratings blockbuster. Sigh.

Meanwhile since Brett Finch left the Eels to go to the Storm, it seems like it’s partytime all around. The Eels now have Daniel (Son of Pete) Mortimer and Jeff Robson in the halves and flattened the Knights at home. Turns out Dan Dan Mortimer doesn’t just have the prettiest eyes in league, he also has a fucking nifty kicking game.

And my favourite double-double-named NRL player Fui Fui Moi Moi has taken over from Steve Matai as Ray Warren’s fave hairstyle in the NRL. Rabs never talks about his man Matai’s cornrows anymore … it’s all Fui Fui and his braids. He thinks, and I quote: “It’s a celebration!” And according to the Queensland Channel 9 sports reporter, his ‘hair tips’ match his jersey. HAIR TIPS? Like … a big book of hair tips? God Queenslanders are so weird.

Pic. Darren Pateman

I think it makes him look youthful … no?

And down in Melbourne Finch is working it Johnathan Thurston style:

…. it’s Brett Finch, BITCH.

No wonder he’s so happy. He’s obviously in the honeymoon stages of a Cooper Cronk bromance. Peeing together in the street, and rocking out shirtless in the locker room together. The Melby dressing room is starting to look like Arq (aka shirtless heaven) … so I totally get it. I have had some damn good nights out at Arq in my time.

In my mind they’re dancing to Kelly Rowland and the Cher megamix.

*discos out of the post*

Thanks as always to BS for the fabulous screen caps. Love you!

News time! Let’s talk all the footy bizness that has happened this week. And by ‘bizness’ I mean people that are hot, and things that make me laugh.

Thomas J is that you?

Ok, that’s a lie. This first thing made me sad, sad, sad. Mitchell Pearce had an allergic reaction to his local anaesthetic. ALLERGIC REACTION. But despite his crazy swollen Craig Gower face, Mitchy still played on Saturday in the ANZAC day game against the Dragons. Way to twist mah heart, Mitchell.

Not to mention that he was catching kicks from the opposition with his lightning-fast reflexes … even though he couldn’t see properly. Maybe it was like when people are born blind and their other senses heighten as a result? Mitchell has six senses! Or something.

I want him to know though, I’m not being cruel here. I don’t wanna mock Mitchell. Cause I’m a Roosters fan … and a massive nerd. Like as a kid I was allergic to dairy, so if I went to school camp and mum didn’t send me with a carton of soy milk, I couldn’t have cereal. True story.

Or the time I stepped out of the car in the country, barefoot, onto a bee and had an allergic reaction.

Those are some SCARY motherfuckers.

Not to mention the time that Kiki had an allergic reaction to a horse / a face mask / an injection and had a swollen face / hives / a lip that touched her nose. WE FEEL YOUR PAIN MITCHELL. We really do. We are your sisters in allergic arms. Perhaps we could all move into hypoallergenic bubbles.

Onto the Tigers. The boys out west have obviously been paying attention to the league bad press and decided to encourage their boys to be industrious little readers. Because everyone knows people who read are good and productive citizens. Can’t punch someone with a book in your hand! Yes, you can probably hit them with the book, but how often do you hear about scandalous book attacks? Not often. Can’t argue with statistics.

They even organised what looks like some kind of Tigers bookclub where the boys can discuss their books of choice, character, theme and metaphor. Footy training isn’t just about being buff, kittens!

In my mind it goes something like:

Tim Sheens: OK, from now on we’re alternating Cindy Crawford’s “Aerobicise” and “Buns of Steel”, and reading one non-school book a week. My first book is “Fit or Fat”.

Robbie Farah: Mine is “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus”.

But what are the boys actually reading this week? Let’s start with Timmy Moltzen. What have you been reading this week, Timothy? Pretty sure that’s Sophie Kinsella’s Confessions of a Shopaholic.

Apparently Tim was so inspired by Isla Fisher in the movie that he dashed out to Borders to grab the book. No need to be ashamed, darlin. Everyone loves a good chick lit novel. And no judgment from me, Timmy, cause I totally like those cheesy airport thrillers that have ‘ADJECTIVE NOUN’ names, like Fatal Danger or Deadly Bones or Red Tide. That’s way worse.

Tatiana Gregorieva trains with the Brisbane Broncos

Maybe now the Tiges boys are taking care of their bodies and minds, next Tim Sheens can introduce them to the challenging world of bare midriffs. Peter Wallace can give them some tips. Nice sports bra, Pete.

Will cure hangovers, will not win elections.

This week I also love that I was right about Chinesegate over at the Parramatta leagues club. I LOVE BEING RIGHT ABOUT STUFF. I knew that shit wouldn’t work! I am pretty much a political genius. Like Rahm Emmanuel. Just as badass, but I never got half of one of my fingers chopped off in an Arby’s meat slicer … yet.

And while we’re talking love-ins, no one is more loved up than big Dell. Wendell didn’t even play in the ANZAC Day match but no one can stop talking about him. Bitches lovvvve Big dell.

Brent Tate wants him in the Aussie team for the test match against the kiwis next week. OMG ME TOO BRENT TATE! I would put dell in every team if I could. Not to mention that this is honestly the first time I have read about Tate *cough*dirtyqueenslander*cough* without feeling a surge of bile and/or distaste, which I reckon is pretty much proof that Dell can spread love anywhere. He’s like Jesus. Jesus if he wore a pimpin’ white tracksuit and a sideways cap.

Darren Lockyer was asked if he would ever consider moving to the Dragons and said:

“I’d have to listen to my mate Wendell Sailor all day and I don’t know if I could deal with that again.”

… which is totally the rugby league equivalent of pulling a girl’s hair in the playground. LOVAHS! LOVAAAAAAAHS! I wonder if Daz will give Dell a special box of hair ribbons for Christmas like my crush gave me in year one? (Hi Thomas, btw. Hope you got that orthodontic situation sorted out).

It’s possible that Dell also cured Anthony Quinn after his awful awful exit from the field on Saturday. Not Quinny! One of the only Storm players we like! We thought we were scarred by seeing poor Cameron Ciraldo injure his leg during a game, but it was truly upsetting seeing poor Quinny’s pink legs trembling on the grass. We’re super super glad that he’s recovered from what looked like a seizure to be up and at em and … chillin with his puppy, Honey.

… is Honey lying on one of her relos?
Pic. Michael Klein via news.com.au

Our Melby Errol spies also tell us that as Quinny was wheeled away in the ambulance he tried to leap to his feet, bust out of the ambulance and get back on the field to play. He also asked ‘what’s for dinner?’. Oh, Quinny. Apparently seizures really build up an appetite.

Meanwhile head of my shitlist is whoever decided Luke O’Donnell deserves a week out for punching. Did they not see it? Dammmn that was hot. And clearly the world thinks so, or Fight Club wouldn’t have been an international success. It’s like they don’t even THINK about the Hottie McHotHots when they make these kinds of decisions. BAH.

Now let’s conclude the news, as is traditional, by looking at cute pictures of pandas:

Massive thanks, as always, to our fave blog for the screencaps. Kisses for you, BS.

So apparently this week, rugby league is brought to you by The West Wing.  Shit is getting political out Parramatta way. The Parra club board elections are coming up and the 3P rebel squad are running for election.  Except apparently CEO Denis Fitzgerald has been busy sitting in his office chair and stroking his fluffy cat and devising an evil and ingenious way to ensure that doesn’t happen.  ELECTORAL FRAUUUUUD.

If you’re wondering, the Board is supposed to be securing victory by mailing out $30 vouchers for the Parra Leagues Chinese restaurant to any member who sounds vaguely Asian, valid for the night of the election, to try and lure them into the club and get them to vote. Who knew that Chinese people were such fans of Denis Fitzgerald? Not I.

May not be actual Parramatta CEO

First of all, what kind of hack is the person who came up with this? *cough Denis*cough* Couldn’t they at least have come up with something original?  At least two Fijian coups, one US impeachment and the Bolshevik revolution were made possible by the mass distribution of Chicken Chow Mein. Plus this is quite clearly identical to the plot George W. Bush ran in Florida to shonkily defeat Al Gore in 2000. You know it’s true.

Anyway, if I was a 3P supporter, instead of getting riled up, I’d just rest easy. Sif the plan is going to work. When have you ever seen an Chinese person eating Chinese food at a leagues club? I’ve been to many a leagues club in my time, and never have I ever seen an Asian person of any kind putting down their laminated menu and ordering the Sweet and Sour Pork.  Those places are straight up for whities.

I kinda love them though, so if anyone who doesn’t enjoy Leagues Club Sang Choi Bow got one of those babies in the mail, or there are any lurking around Parra, feel free to send it on to Errol HQ. The boys love an outing. Plus better they come to us than end up with the players. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. STOP GIVING JARRYD HAYNE FOOD VOUCHERS.

Meanwhile know what we’re gonna talk about next? Not the Roosters.  Come on down … Tigers!  I kind of enjoy seeing the Storm get beaten. I like to pretend that it’s really Queensland, and they’re being beaten by the Blues. Siiiiigh. The crowd at Leichhardt was going crazy, and at the very last moment ‘the colt from Campbelltown’ Chris Lawrence ran in a truly surprising try.

Benji Marshall does what we all want to.
Pic. Steve Christo

You see Billy Slater is apparently the world’s fastest man, strongest man, best man at driving hatchbacks, best fry cook and possibly Jesus. TV told me so. And I accepted this because I adore TV and don’t believe it would ever lie to me, but apparently … TV WAS WRONG. There is something faster than Billy the Kid and that something is Chris Lawrence.

Chris adopts the downward dog pose to express his joy
Pic. Steve Christo

Even Robbie Farah lifted after his struggles of an effort in Round 5 and gave us an amazing score for our fantasy team.

Do I get to stay in the Wildcats now?

I hope the boys keep up their winning streak too. If nothing else so that Tim Sheens can keep his coaching job.

Meanwhile, Tigers coach Tim Sheens said while his team had suffered two disappointing losses after a reasonable start to the season it was “not at wrist-cutting situation or anything like that”.

Is that a technical footy term, Tim? This is a man who does not have a future in counselling and psychology.

I do have future careers picked out for a few of the boys thought. Craig Fitzgibbon is already Frank-Paul Nuuausala’s recipe-advisor and organic food guru … if he can get Frank-Paul slimmed down, I will be all over the Fitzy’s Cooking range of books and dvds.  Just like Paula Deen! But bald!

I also can’t wait till Steve Price quits footy and hits the road as a deadpan, self-deprecating, Stephen wright-esque comedian:

When captain Steve Price pointed to the posts for Kemp’s penalty, he thought they had done enough. “Then we went in a huddle [for full-time], and I realised it was 16-16,” he said. “Maybe not enough oxygen getting to the brain. It’s funny … but it’s not really funny.”

Oh, Steve.

Meanwhile the other day we announced on Twitter that Michael Gordon is totally in the running for a nomination as Hottest Bitch in League, 2009. And like, actually in the running, not just alive and breathing, which seems to be the only requirement for being in the NSW State of Origin squad.

… we think that counts as a seconding of that nomination. Thanks Joshie Morris.

Screencap from the lovely Art1e.

You know when you’ve tried on too many outfits and all of a sudden everything looks like shit and I’M JUST NOT GOING OUT. I DON’T EVEN CARE. I AM A WILDEBEEST ANYWAY.

Well, I am kinda like that with football this weekend. I watched every match … so any recap would just be not good enough cause my tiny tiny brain can’t remember everything that happened. I’m thinking let’s just give up on recaps, eat the last easter eggs rolling around in the kitchen drawer, and do a half-and-half post again. Yes? Sweet. Mmmmm easter eggs.

Incidentally, did anyone else literally have to undo their pants on Easter Sunday? Religious holidays are such hard work.

EELS VS DRAGONS

Make sure you don’t share any of your left over Easter bilbies with Parra, just by the way.  As soon as we got all excited about the Eels boys getting on the Slimfast during the off-season, all of a sudden they’re on their way to being fattie mcfatfats again. I detected a definite … squishiness as they were milling about on the field. Is there a KFC next to Parra stadium? Does Daniel Anderson train footy players the same way you train puppies? With cubes of cheese and bacon jerky?

Roll over, Hindy!

Whatever it is, it’s not working people. Not even Nathan Hindmarsh’s magical mane of victory could help the boys win on the weekend. I thought that Fui Fui Moi Moi’s cornrows might help, but sadly no dice with that either. Although it did give me the mental image of Fui Fui Cornrows and Steve Matai sitting around during the week doing each others braids, which is awesome.

I liked it so much better when Parra were trim and winning things. Although it does mean that when Kiki and I were lolling about on my couch watching Super Saturday and Feleti Mateo fumbled the ball, she got to scream out ‘IT’S NOT HIS FAULT! HE HAS CHEESEBURGER GREASE ON HIS HANDS!’

Mmmmm … cheeseburger.

Actually, I can’t include Eric ‘renaissance man’ Grothe in that, cause he looks kinda buff. So buff that he might actually turn into the hulk if I take the piss out of him again.

That Sassy implying I went to special school makes me SO ANGRY

Lucky for me he directed his anger at Neville Costigan on the field (ie. in a hot way) as opposed to at me (the painful way).  Biff! I know it’s wrong but I just love biff. Especially when it means I get to see Hornbag being a Good Captain and breaking things up and B. Moz being kinda freaked out and just loitering around the edges. Don’t worry! That’s how I fight too, B.Moz!

Clearly the Mozes are lovers not fighters. I say there’s a reason why Nature gave you such long, long legs to run away.  Those Morris twinnies are the Nadja Auermann of footy. When B.Moz made a break down the left wing and the ref called him back I thought he might end up in a giant heap tangled in his own legs like Bambi.

Meanwhile it’s fair to say I was confused and outraged by Jeremy Smith being sin-binned for a professional foul on Luke Burt. WHERE WAS THE FOUL? I usually don’t care much about refereeing decisions when it’s not my team but this was crazy. Sir, I swear, he didn’t do anything! I even started ranting to Kiki about why can’t the video ref just intervene to stop the injustice?  You know, just pick up his special VRef phone – kinda like the batphone – and tell the Referees ‘Oh, honey no, that’s just wrong’.

Because apparently in my mind the video referee for this game was Karen Walker from Will & Grace.

Obstruction! No try!

I may have to start a Justice for Jeremy Smith campaign to clear his name. I will also start a ‘is Jez Smith hot?’ campaign to figure out what the hell is going on there.  Now that he’s not wearing Storm colours any more I have started to find him oddly …. handsome. Anyone else? Just me? Talk amongst yourselves, then.

But the highlight of the game, as always, was Dell. Wendell never disappoints. When he put a huge hit on Krisnan Inu, we screamed ‘WHERE’S YA MORMON GOD, NOW?’. And when the Drags won the game Dell pointed at me through the camera. He totally did and nothing you say will change my mind. Awesome just gravitates to awesome. You can’t argue with science.

PANTHERS VS STORM

Pic. Getty Images

So like we expected, the Storm were all up in Work Experience Boy Lachlan Coote’s bizness like they were with Preston Campbell. They always go for the littl-uns … chasing them down like they’re the weak gazelle. But luckily we are forward-thinking employers and we have been training Lachie in the off-season to hold his own with the art of self-defence; out on the Errol terrace pumping Eye of the Tiger and practicing karate moves.

Little Lachie got so confident that he even went the push and shove on Soulglo Inglis in the in-goal area. Lachie! Starting fights! It was kind of amazing, not gonna lie. All our brainwashing to be anti-Storm must have really sunk in.  Next step: Lachie takes out the Prime Minister of Malaysia.

We kinda forgot to warn Lachie though that Inglis is a massive monster of a man this season. Bitch is stacked. As he grabbed Lachie by the collar there was a look of terror. More training needed. At least he remembered to stop, drop and roll when the real fight broke out.

With Inglis involved, this could turn into a whole new form of jelly-wrestling: Soulglo wrestling.

But the best bit of all – and who thought there was something better than biff? – was that Soulglo recovered from the fight, and before he could get back into the game, had to  re-wet his hair with a trainer’s bottle. HE RE-WET IT. CAN’T LET THE HAIR DRY OUT.  

And for all the Errol readers who like the hair-updates, I’ll leave ya with Anthony Quinn and his new hairstyle: the Krisnan Inu.  Mmmmm Mormontastic.

Thanks to the lovely BS, as always, for his awesome caps.

A special treat for your Sunday night: our Errol bestie (and master tipper) Bec has agreed to guest blog the dirty Broncos playing the dirty, dirty Storm.  FYI: this will be less pervy than we just made it sound.  Enjoy!

Hi kids! I am Bec, sometimes (always) known as Lesbian Bec around these here parts. I have been asked by Kiki, Sassy and Lozzy to step in and perform a guest blog-octomy. So welcome to a very special edition of Friday nights football wrap-up. That’s right, don’t adjust your television set– FRIDAY’S game. The game involving both the Melbourne Storm AND the Brisbane Broncos. These teams are almost never mentioned positively here at Oh Errol, and probably have never been mentioned on this blog when playing each other.

Essentially for the Oh Errol girls this game is the equivalent of having to decide whom they would want to win in a cage match between Ted Bundy and Charles Manson. I suspect they would choose Manson, because that man rocked some crazy facial hair.

So there are several obvious reasons as to why this blog will be different to the usual fare you enjoy:

1. I am neither Kiki, Sassy or Lozzy, nor do I have their skillz

2. I am a lesbian, so the chances of discussing the hot manz-iness of the players is somewhat (completely) diminished

3. I am a filthy Queenslander

4. I am a filthy Queensland who supports the Broncos. And yet, somehow we all still get along. Give peace a chance.

In fact, the Oh Errol girls are my pseudo-girlfriends, because my actual girlfriend can’t stand football. In fact, to portray the extent of her dislike – while I am watching the game, she is in the spare room putting away washing and doing some filing. She dislikes football as much as Melbourne likes complaining about referees. That = A Lot.

This brings me to the game I’m meant to be discussing. After last season’s loss to Melbourne that knocked us out of the comp (I had to read about this to re-learn what happened, because I booked myself in for a lobotomy the day after), the scene was set for one hell of a game. I was excited to see how the Dave Taylor would perform after the recent birth of his baby, who I interpret to be crying because she is scared of being eaten by her giant father:

Hmmm…baby? Or Breakfast Burrito?

Of course, I was also vez excited to see what mean feats of gravity defying Israel could pull off, and I was NOT disappointed. If you haven’t seen it yet, let me show you a picture that pretty much sums up the try he scored:

Is it a bird, is it a plane? No, It’s MOR-MAN!

So with Israel bouncing around scoring tries, and the rest of the players doing their job, I set in for a comfortable, uneventful win for the boys. I should say here that whilst I dislike Melbourne as a group/conglomerate, and find them repugnant during most of the season, I never entirely hate them because they just have so many Queenslanders playing for them, and they are just so good when they are in maroon. This inner conflict causes an uncomfortable feeling inside me, much like what happens when I eat spicy food after midnight.

Anyway, Peter Wallace crossed for a try after the Melbourne players stopped because they thought there was a knock-on. Now, I may not be a footballer, but I would assume that it’s a good idea not to stop playing until the referee actually blows his whistle, bitch. Instead they looked like they were enjoying a game of Red Light, Green Light.

What fun.

Granted, the refs probably should have referred it to the video ref, but because it favoured the team I’m supporting, i’m absolutely fine with the decision. From this point the game became a bit more eventful, and the Broncos almost blew it again. At one point I was sobbing “WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LET US WIN!!!”

Luckily Billy Slater couldn’t quite hang onto a catch near the try line in the dying minutes of the game, and the boys hung on to win for the first time against Melbourne at Suncorp since 2006.

On a side note, I’ve been watching Billy on Rexona’s Greatest Athlete, which pretty much consists of him being perfect in every sporting challenge that is thrown at him. Combined with his being the greatest player in league, as voted last year – I am convinced that he is in fact, a robot. I think he was built in the nineties, and the scientists obviously discovered that the neck is just holding the human race back.

Ties traditionally go around the neck. His must be a clip on.

You might be wondering that if Billy IS in fact a robot, how come he didn’t catch that ball?Well, can you imagine if it were revealed to the human race that robots were amongst us?

There were would be terror, and panic. Chaos in the streets. He has to fake a mistake every so often so that regular people don’t suspect.

SO the Broncos won! Hurrah. See, we don’t need you Uncle Wayne (much)! The Broncos won by one point in the first week, and two points in the second week – maybe by the end of the season we can win by a try.

And so that’s my wrap-up, and the final positive Broncos/Melbourne news for a verrrry long time here at Oh Errol headquarters. To those Queenslanders out there, feel free to re-read my post over and over again until then. Cheers.

FOOTY! YOU’RE BACK! Oh baby, how I’ve missed you. Come here, sit on my lap and I’ll show you just how much.

Bet you guys missed horrifically creepy sentences like that one…right? Well never fear my darlings, now the footy season is back you can enjoy them at least once a week. I thought you might like to see the terrifying adorable bear card I picked out for Hot Bitch Cooper. For some reason he sent me an AVO in return. A rather obscure way of showing his appreciation but apparently thats how he rolls.

I had a few invitations for outings over the weekend but bitches be trippin if they think I am going to leave the house on the opening weekend of the season. I am proud to admit that I watched every single game. Okay, that’s a lie. I turned off Panthers v Sharks halfway through because it was, to be frank, a festival of crap. I made up for this by watching  the Baby Eels vs Baby Warriors. I adore the Under 20′s games. Why? Because the babies get SO!EXCITED! by everything. It’s like watching puppies and kittens…..if they wore footy uniforms and tackled each other. Or something.

The new Toyota Cup promo shots delighted the Errol Office

I was planning on doing a full recap. But now I’m not. Because I really like point form. It makes me happy. Also, it’s my blog and I can do what I want.

a) Seeing my boys line up for the national anthem gave me actual goosebumps. This is the first emotional response I’ve had since the World Cup finished. Apparently I turn into a sociopath of sorts during the off season.

b) I LOVED seeing Uncy Wayne wearing Dragons merch. Especially loved the fact he was rocking crumpled cargo shorts and sneakers when other coaches are all buttoned up in stuffy uncomfortable suits. This is coz people with nothing to prove don’t have to dress up. Which is why I reguarly wear trackies to restaurants (I wish I was joking).

c) Apparently in his excitement for the new season, Greg Inglis accidentally spilt an entire tub of gel on his head. Listen Greg, I know it’s sometimes hard to gauge the exact amount of hair product that’s right for your hair but daaaaaaamn. That was some straight up Soul Glo shit.

He was so….greasy. I half expected a trainer to run out and start mopping his hair with a towel. Surely a head that slippery is against the rules some how? He was slipping through tackles all over the place! Oh he also played brilliantly and caused me to write FUCKING SHIT FUCK INGLIS BOOO STORM DIEEEE in my notes. True story.

d) It seems both teams were doing their best to provide the lolz. It was a deadset slapstick comedy fest out there. I am 73% certain this is because everyone in the NRL wants nothing more than to appear on Errol. Soooo…congratulations to Anthony Quinn who got hammered in a tackle and then got up and…wait for it….played the ball the wrong way. Even better than that was the look on his face when he realised he just embarassed himself in front of thousands of people. Brilliant. I love public humiliation, especially when the subject is wearing a Storm uniform.

And equal congratulations to Beau Scott  and a Melbourne player whose name I don’t remember, who managed to some pull off of Cirque De Soleil move during a tackle. Which concluded in Beau-Beau being horizontally FLIPPED onto the turf. Tres acrobatic boys. You two have a career in the circus beckoning.

e) HORNBAG! Okay well everyone will remember this game for his no no times, but I for one would prefer to focus on the positive. Because I am nothing if not an enternal optimist. He is now the full time captain (which we campaigned for last year just btw), scored a lovely try, looked totally cute with his off season tan and has apparently acquired some  snazzy new red boots. Or as my mother called them ‘Hornbag’s pretty ruby slippers’.

f) And the piece de resistance of the entire evening. THE RETURN OF EBONY AND IVORY!  Hot Bitch and Big Dell!  Just for the record, we totally picked this manlove affair like 6 months ago. We be psychic and shit.

Seriously, their try was one of the most awesome moments of my footy fan career to date. Dell in general is ridiculously amazing, even when he is playing silly buggers and accidentally kicking grubbers over the sideline. Instead of yelling obscenities at the TV like I do with every other player, I simply giggle and say things like “Oh Dell, you so funny”.

What I love about Dell is he is about 47 years old, a teeny bit fat and always drenched in perspiration….yet he continues to back himself and make big breaks. AND IT WORKS! I especially love that he sent my imaginary mans Hot Bitch Cooper in for the actual try. Sharing, caring and living together in perfect harmonnnnnny.

And yes, as everyone keeps reminding me, my boys lost. But unlike alot of other Dragons fans I wasn’t particularly upset. Last year we wouldn’t have ever got that close to victory against the Storm. The boys never gave up. Their discipline was VASTLY improved (to say the least), their passing was short, sharp and to the point and well…they looked like contenders. For the first time since 2005. Mark my words readers, the Dragons are gonna be a force to be reckoned with this year. YES, A FORCE.

Oh, and despite the horrific irony of the NRL’s new tagline being ‘Feel It’, I kinda really sorta totally love the song. I may or may not have downloaded it on Itunes and danced around my living room occasionally pretending to score a try.

In conclusion, I love you football. Pls never leave me again.

pic: News Ltd/Gregg Porteous

First of all, right now I kind of feel like a bride who’s spent months in a wedding haze and, now that whole thing’s over, has seeped into a deep black hole of sadness. I DIDN’T KNOW THE OFF SEASON WOULD FEEL THIS SHIT. It’s like being given a puppy, bonding with it and laughing at the silly things it does for months, and then having it snatched away.

but whats i do withouts mah boys?

My post-Grand Final winners buzz is totally dampened by the fact that I MISS THE BOYS ALREADY. I spent Monday afternoon furiously checking Getty Images and HotAussieFootyPlayersShirtless for updates on the celebrations, and I think I’ve read every article on LeagueHQ today in an attempt to fill the void. I’M CHASING THE DRAGON. I NEED A FIIIIIIIIX *licks bathroom floor*

Aside from that, GO MANLY GOOOOOO. Not only was my first footy game EVER a free trip to see my own babies play, they also…well, do I even need to say it? Ok yes, yes I do. 40 NIL PEOPLE. FOR…TY…NIL.

pic: News Ltd/Gregg Porteous

Apparently I am also some kind of amazing prophet, because I started celebrating the gigantic win 24 hours before it happened. I just like to get things done, ok? (I was going to say ‘on top of things’ but John John was sniggering before I even typed ‘of’). I think all I really need to say here is that I was refused entry at The Judgy. But hey, at least I wasn’t partying in a wolf mask *cough*

We decided to reward our staff with a little Errol outing to the Big Game – it’s good for office morale, plus we needed a few sets of arms to fetch our snacks/throw things at Storm fans. So on Sunday we all climbed into the Errol Bus (which in case you’re wondering is exactly like the Priscilla bus but unfortunately with way less drag queens. Pretty much the same amount of disco and sequins though), strapped Lachie into his booster seat and then had to turn around when we realised John John wasn’t wearing any pants. Obviously we’re more than pleased to let him run free and nakey around the office, but we just can’t deal with having an intern in troubz for indecent exposure.

It’s safe to say that since I began my GF day vomming in a garden at the Crowne Plaza* (soz guys! thanks for the hospitality!) my perception of the game happening right in front of me was…cloudy. Nothing angers me more than the whole ‘girls can’t understand the rules’ notion, and I don’t want to encourage it, but shit I was disorientated. Was that a try? Is that one of our players or Melbourne? Why won’t my camera zoom in close enough for arse shots? I NEED COMMENTARYYYYYY. I think next time I’m taking a portable radio with me. Or Sassy and Kiki, which is kind of the same thing but heaps better.

But even with a vicious hangover, not knowing where to look to follow the game properly and being pissed off at the general public – not that they were anything but lovely from what I encountered (oh, except for the guys behind me who apparently turned up thinking some teams named ‘stand up and yell at your mate across the stadium’ and ‘hi i’m a drunk who just fell on you and didn’t apologise’ were playing), I just don’t like people very much – IT WAS SO FUN.

pic: silvertails.net

I was so caught up in the general vibe I didn’t even notice how bad the ‘entertainment’ was. For serious, I read the paper on Monday and was like “oh shit, a bbq routine?”. AND I didn’t even feel any hate towards Storm fans – even the girl next to us decked out in head to toe purple who apparently kept yelling ‘Billlyyyyyyyyyyy’ I was oblivious to. Where my good friend and Oh Errol/Manly supporter Bel heard Billy, I heard ‘yaaaaay football!’.

We even, in a rare display of goodwill, picked two Storm fans up on the way there and shared the most awkward car ride in history. I suppose I could’ve made it less awkward by you know, talking to them, but at that point I was still unable to form sentences.

Ok, so it wasn’t ALL good. To the people who got up and squeezed past us about 1000 times to go GOD KNOWS WHERE – sit the fuck down and yeah that is my toe you just stood on. Seriously it’s like two hours, how can they possibly need to get up and down that many times? DO YOU HAVE ANTS IN YOUR PANTS MISTER? Even Lachie was less fidgety, but that could’ve been because we had him on a leash.

Biggest lolz of the day – the guy who tried to fight the Sea Eagle (really, the Sea Eagle? Not Storm Man?), the entire stadium booing Cameron Smith (though to be fair I actually felt kind of bad. I know I know).

Biggest awws of the day – the Beav love obviously, Steve Bell and bb, Des Hasler’s general existance.

pic: LeagueHQ/Anthony Johnson

For thoughts on the actual game as well as more on the ‘entertainment’, you might get lucky with Kiki and Sassy’s upcoming GF observations. Stay tuned babies.

*Please forward all expressions of interest in dating me to lozzy[at]oherrol.com

Following Work Experience Boy Lachie’s journey out to spy on the Sea Eagles last week, returning  with some beautiful shots of the boy’s preparing for this weekend’s performance of Garbo Get Your Gun…I mean My Fair Garbo…DAMMIT I MEAN THE NRL FINALS, we thought we’d send him out on another excursion to see what’s what during Grand Final week.

So Monday morn’ Lachie turned up with Mama Coote-signed permission slip and Curious George lunchbox in hand, and we sent him off to do our bidding. And not just the Manly boys this time, no siree bob. We made like Bill Paxton and went after The Storm.

First of all, it should be known that the Manly lot were auctioning off a place in their team photo. Unfortunately the auction also came with a Sea Eagles jersey, shorts and socks:

The highest bidder will receive a Sea Eagles Jersey, Shorts and Socks to wear in the photo and keep as a memento of the occasion as well as a framed copy of the photo.

This is a truly amazing opportunity that you will treasure for ever.

Yes, they were asking fans to pay to wear maroon. As enticing as lying across the boys knees with my head resting in Davey’s lap sounds (I don’t mean that the way it sounds, I swear)…not in that getup, ok thanks.

Judging from the piccies Lachie brought home, the Sea Eagles photo day was much like every single one I endured throughout my schooling ie. lots of lining up and height organisation, which Matt Orford should be pretty upset about:

Aw youse big kids crack me up

AWWW Matty! I understand. I was ALWAYS the shortest kid in the class and got stuck in the front row, even when I purposely wore the wrong shoes to avoid it. Except in Year 11 when the dickheads put me right up the top with all the tall kids and I had to stand on my tip toes AND STILL LOOKED LIKE A MIDGET. Orford doesn’t actually look too concerned though – I guess a Dally M medal overrides any height neuroses.

Des Hasler does not find this buffoonery amusing.

By the way, Sassy would like to know if that is bird poo in Ballin’s hair in the above pic. Surely birds don’t poo on a GOD OF FOOTBALL? DON’T THEY KNOW WHO HE IS? Perhaps the bird in question was a rabid Daniel Conn fan and is v unimpressed with the result.

ZOMG Daniel Conn I’m your biggest fan. Sign my wing?

Speaking of hair, Davey’s award-nominated locks were enjoying the sun very much.

I like to think he personally suggested an outdoors shoot specifically so his natural blonde highlights would be emphasised, in an attempt to score a few more points in the race for Best Hair in League. BUT I JUST LOOK BETTER AMONGST NATURE GUYZ. We see right through you David (it’s kind of working though just quietly).

Whilst the Sea Eagles were gallivanting around/not amusing Des Hasler (by the way, you just KNOW the token ‘does the finger in the class photo’ guy was Watmough), over at Globo Gym the cyborgs players were rounded up, programmed to their ‘human emotion’ setting and produced this:

Hmm, I don’t think that’s quite convincing enough for us to believe they have souls. Apparently Bellamy didn’t think so either and upped the boys Humaniser2000 program to maximum:

Do Not Be Fooled. Proceed With Caution. They may look like they’re having fun but IT’S A FRONT PEOPLE. THEY’RE STILL DEAD BEHIND THE EYES.

Just look at this:

How unhappy is that dog? It’s utterly ashamed to be seen with Go Storm on it’s back. S/he can sense the evil.

Sea Eagles pics: Ezra Shaw/Getty Images

Storm pics: Quinn Rooney/Getty Images

… Are we all joyful and excited about the Grand Final this weekend, kittens?  Globo Gym vs the boys in maroon?  Oh my god, what a coincidence!  Me either!  So let’s just try and deal with it in the most painless way we can.

Anne: Neely, you know it’s bad to take liquor with those pills.
Neely: They work faster.

The truth is that the lead up to this week’s game has caused nothing but trouble for me.  My night terrors that Melbourne might actually win … again, have been so bad that Intern John-John has started slipping xanax into my bedtime cocktail.  He knows I love my beauty sleep.  Apparently I kept trying to strangle myself with the bedsheet and waking the household up crying and screaming STOP REFERRING TO YOURSELF IN THE THIRD PERSON GREG INGLISSSSS.

Basically, Melbourne Storm have turned my life into Valley of the Dolls.  Except it’s football driving me to the prescription meds bottle instead of a philandering husband or a failing musical career.  That’s kinda sad, right?

On the bright side, at least I finally have a valid reason for why I alway wear ridiculous see-through pastel nighties.

I am also left with the horrible decision of whether to rock up at the game weaing nothing that supports any team, or … god I don’t even think I can say it … something MAROON.  Is there any colour more hateful than maroon?  To quote the always-eloquent Kiki “it’s like red that got shit in it”.

If love was a colour it would be marooooon

Worst of all, my decision to throw all my support behind Manly out of sheer petty dislike for the Storm has caused a giant domestic dispute Chez Sassy.  My brother / flatmate is still on the Manly hate-train, and when he realised on Monday I’m team Manly, he was Not Pleased.  He banged some drawers, I threw a martini, and the whole thing ended with him screaming:

“If you’d been there to seen them beat the Roosters in the semis in 1987 THEN YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND”

This is not necessarily true, because I would have been five, and probably too young to understand hate, understand who won, and/or remember any of those things if I did.  But whatever.  The end result is we’ve started dividing the fridge in two using sticky tape (my side has barely enough room for all my vodka and nailpolishes) and I swear yesterday he maliciously turned on the tap in the kitchen to scald me in the shower.

In other Melbourne news, the boys from south of the border are still on their quest to become the most martyred team in league.  Sacrificial grapple lamb Lamberon Smith is still upset about his suspension, Israel Folau suspects he’s being illegally stopped from leaping by opposition players while the refs do nothing, and Antonio Kaufusi has vowed to win the premiership for his fallen captain.  Yes, yes, we know.  You’re all very noble in the face of persecution.  Saint George the martyr has nothing on you kids.

I would make some kind of jokes about all that but to be honest I didn’t really read all those articles. They weren’t nearly as interesting as the news about Joyce Churchill.

JOYCE CHURCHILL was married to the greatest fullback of all time … but she has a soft spot for another. Asked which player’s neck she would most like to dangle the Clive Churchill Medal from as the man of the match from this Sunday’s grand final, she replies: “Billy Slater. I like him. I’d like to cuddle him.”

Joyce! You floozy!  Just quietly, we Errol girls do love a cuddle, too. We get it! I’m guessing Joyce would have some strong opinions on the Important Question of who should take out this year’s snuggliest man in league.  She’d certainly support our plan to individually snuggle each of the nominees to make sure our decision is correct.

I also think she would enjoy dropping by the Errol offices for an afternoon sherry or ten and a gossip.  I’m totally up for it.  Call me Joyce!  I’ll bake!

(By ‘bake’, obviously I mean ‘I’ll send Lachie down to the Bourke Street bakery for eclairs and pretend that I baked’).

And in news that honestly almost makes me wanna move to Queensland, the Gold Coast Titans have decided to bring in the dollars by setting up their own betting agency, and because they are intensely lateral and creative souls, they have called it Titanbet.

Fuck off Titans, this is amazing.  All the other leagues clubs are watching their punters push money into pokies to make a few extra bucks, not you Titans.  They’ve decided to screw that, and go straight into TAB-style punting.  They care not for the fact that they will be making money from people placing bets on events including the competition they participate in.  Conflict of interest?  What conflict of interest?  Here, have a palm tree-patterned betting card!

I love it.  More than anything I hope that they send the boys in when they’re injured and in the off-season to man the booths.  You know it would be good for business.  If you can’t trust Scott Prince with your bets, who can you trust?

Also, if we’ve learned anything from the Simpsons it’s that the best way to deal with a tropical community is to introduce gambling.  I hope the next item on the Titans’ agenda is to build an island casino.

Island native: If God is all-powerful, why does he care if we worship him?

Homer: God is powerful, but insecure. Like Barbra Streisand before James Brolin.

Island blackjack!  Island roulette! The possibilities are endless.  If anything can keep rugby league solvent then it’s the wonders of casino gambling.  Note to David Gallop: begin investigating themed casinos.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to have a nap.  I think the downers are kicking in.