roosters vs eels recap: in todd we trust

August 4th, 2010

Pic. Getty Images

We’re resurrecting an Errol tradition – the footy recap! So for any of you who actually have lives and missed the Roosters vs Eels game on Saturday night – aka the GAME OF THE ROUND, BITCHES – you can experience all the magic right here.

So the game’s over at Parra Stadium, which means two things.

1. The Eel mascot will make an appearance, which is one of our favourite things.  You know when he puts his tail between his legs, like a … ? Well, you know. He’s wildly inappropriate and totally not PG and this amuses us greatly.

2. The Eel’s mascot girlfriend will also make an appearance, which without fail makes me want to die. Seriously, a MASCOT has a better love life than me. Shit is dire.

As the Roosters run out I would like to remind you all that YES we do have the shortest shorts in the league and you all fucking love it. Brian Smith is rocking jeans and sneaks like ‘WHAT UP? I’M A COOL DAD’.

Fui Fui Moi Moi’s all corn-rowed and running out with the starting side which I think means the Eels mean business. He’s the human equivalent of a floor-length leather trenchcoat. He also has hamstring tape all up the back of his leg, and instead of the usual two-strap wishbone style it’s about eight pieces of tape. This is obviously because his legs are enormous.

The Chooks take the first set and within three minutes they’re within ten metres of the tryline. It only takes two more sets and M.Aubs runs for the line, hits a hole and busts through beautifully to ground the ball like a red-white-and-blue dynamo. MAAAUBS!

While Todd Carney’s lining up the conversion, Kiki rings me to dicuss how much on a scale of 1 to 10 we adore Maubs (it’s totally 10), and how much he’s realised his potential this season. She says his runs through the line and in open space remind her of Ben Creagh. I rant about how much I love his positioning in support when the halves have the ball and his pretty strawberry-blond hair and call him ‘the new Steve Menzies,’ which she’s maybe not quite convinced of.

Uncanny, no?

Todd ‘Hotpants’ Carney bends forward to take the kick and Kiki predicts the short-shorts are going to end in disaster. “I think it’s only a matter of time until we see a testicle.”

Jarryd-with-a-Y Hayne, in his current incarnation as the Hayne-Plane, looks pissed.

[Note from Sassy’s stepdad: He’s a COM-PLAIN.]


Parra are having no luck, Feleti Mateo loses the ball, there’s some niggle afoot and the Roosters move into attack again. Hotpants Carney throws a magical cut-out pass to Sam Perrett who pops it back to Shaun Kenny-Dowall for a try. Or as we like to call him, PINK MAAAAN! So rosy! So fast!

And as far as we can tell, the Pink Man nickname is catching on. People all over the world, from all eras, at costume parties and even in cartoons are paying tribute to NRL’s Pink Man. He’s a cult hero!

The Roosters look so dangerous I may faint. I’m swooning all over the place at how well the forward pack are playing. Ryles! Myles! Kennedy! I’d marry you all right now!

They play through the middle and Mitchell Pearce throws an offload of beauty to Minichiello for a try. I am DYING. Jarryd-with-a-Y does not so much resemble a plane as something Medieval covered in spikes that they used to torture infidels. He looks even angrier than before.

At least I think he looks angry. On the next set Parra do some weird shit that makes me think they didn’t know it was the last tackle, so maybe all of them, including Jarryd-with-a-Y are just confused?

I would like to suggest that, to help with his confusion, Jarryd-with-a-Y might like to consult the safety card in his seat pocket. If he does, he will see that if he’s looking for a try, a line of red, white and blue players will show him how it’s done.

Welcome to Roosters Air! Where hotpants are just part of the uniform.

There’s some push’n’shove between Frank-Paul Nuuausala and Justin Poore. The Roosters give away about six straight penalties until Parra finally make it through for a Jarryd-with-a-Y try. UGH. STUPID PLANE ARMS. GOD. STAB STAB.

Wait, where was I?

Parra kick to the Chooks’ line and for some reason, instead of playing at it, every single man just stands around and discusses whether they prefer Johnathan Cainer or Mystic Medusa’s horoscopes while the ball bounces. Kane Linnett (hi Kane! We remember you fondly from the Jets!) is the first to put down his chai and grab the ball, then sprints downfield, offloading at the last second to Phil Graham for a try.

Kiki rings me and we both admit we actually had goosebumps on our forearms. If we weren’t ladies, we would probably also have actual footy-induced boners. Amazing! Hotpants gets his fourth conversion. Four for you Todd Carney! You go Todd Carney!

Finally the Eels do something. A Tim Tam Tahu break from Plane pass, a Hotpants Carney intercept, Sam Perrett loses the ball, I think I’m having a stroke, and Hindy runs 30 metres to score. Oh Hindy, we love you more than life. Do you know what you should do it you love Hindy too?


In the second half, I won’t lie, I lost my mind a bit. All my notes say is this:

is todd adjusting his crotch tape in the middle of the field?

shit kane might be injured.

how good does todd look now he’s given up booze? so lean! so youthful!

adamson is ranting about “the passing and the christmas” is he drunk?

fuck me carney incredible spiral pass dead of joy.

are the short shorts a tribute to ronnie palmer? miss u, love u ronnie.

joel reddy dives over can’t see what happens cause 3 chooks. ref says held up. joel reddy is BLOWING UP like woah.

whee it’s proof you only have to wait three weeks to get a lucky refereeing decision.

hayne is he trying to start a fight??? he’s a war plane! throws a massive tantrum about … I have no idea. but it’s lolz.

oh god ANOTHER penalty oh god oh god oh god. penalty count is 11-4 FUCK ME.

roosters finally back in attack, their defence has been awesome. tim mannah is cycling and it’s cute.

imagine how dangerous skd could be if his passes were more reliable??

The Hayne plane is having difficulties.

wow. wow. eels look like they want to die.

HAHA brian smith just gave thumbs up to the camera

he goes up to fui to say well played, naaaw.

oh shit I think d morts is crying. that’s sad.

I know, I know, I sound functionally illiterate. But if you read that really REALLY loudly, it’s just like watching a game with me. End result 48-12.

And now I’ll leave you with my boys being adorable winners in the locker room.



hindy’s our favourite son

June 24th, 2010


And first of all, can I just say blogging about this is v painful. Last night my flattie and I were cooking tacos and I cut my finger slicing tomatoes and now it hurts to type. Worst of all, they totally don’t have worker’s comp insurance in the imaginary Oh Errol offices. This? This is why I don’t cook.

So yesterday Kiki and I trotted along to the launch of Women in League round and the announcement of the favourite son award for 2010. Kiki even brought me a special ‘women in league round gift’, because as she told me “this is like our Mother’s day!” It’s true, it really is.

Last year’s gorgeous winner Hazem el Masri and his missus looked suitably regal and dapper, the Kellyville Princesses showed off their footy skills, there was champas – which kept us happy – Alan Tongue and Braith Anasta were completely adorable and brought their mamas, and Hindy took home the award.

Did he win the vote because of the brilliant article we wrote about him last week?

Who knows. All I know is that I am proud and delighted to call this man:

Pic. Getty Images

HARVEY NORMAN WOMEN IN LEAGUE’S FAVOURITE SON. Whee! This almost makes up for the fact that I don’t have an actual son, because – right now – I am deliberately barren like our new Prime Minister. True story.

What was my point? Just look at him nobly removing a wedgie from his famous arse crack. Love ya Hindy! And thank you to the thousands of women who voted.

Now, here’s the other stuff happening during women in league round this weekend:

– The Panthers once again transforming themselves into the Pink Panthers with a full pink kit; the Dragons’ traditional Red V being morphed pink; and Manly, Parramatta and the Sydney Roosters all wearing pink jerseys. Fans will be able to purchase these modified jerseys through Rebel and NRL Club stores.

– The Eels staff, mascots, ball boys, and volunteers also wearing a touch of pink; and the Canberra Raiders wearing pink socks.

– Players at several clubs pulling on pink boots this weekend, which will then be auctioned off through NRL and Club websites to raise funds for One Community and Club charity partners.

– Games in the Round will be played with pink match balls (except the Panthers v Sea Eagles match) which will be auctioned off after Round 16 to raise money for the McGrath Foundation.

– Women in League tattoos will be handed out at matches.

– McGrath Foundation pink scarves will be sold through both the Foundation website prior to the Round but also by volunteers at some grounds.

– Women in League video presented on the big screen at each game.

– A special $40 Family Ticket offer for seven of the eight Harvey Norman Women in League Round matches (excludes Rabbitohs v Storm in Perth).

– The Panthers, Roosters, Dragons, Sharks and Titans websites turning pink.

– Female junior Rugby League players/volunteers joining match day celebrations at the Raiders, Sharks, Eels, and Dragons.

– Various fundraising initiatives in support of Women in League charity partner, the McGrath Foundation, and NRL Club charity partners – including the Eels and Dragons auctioning off their pink playing jerseys, and two of the Panthers’ sponsors donating funds for tries and points scored by the team this weekend to the club’s Women in League charity partners.

– The Pink Panthers Shield to be awarded to the winner of the Women in League Round game between the Panthers and the Sea Eagles.

– The Eels ‘wear pink’ promotion and ‘Eels in Heels’ event, the Dragons Harvey Norman Pinkest Fan Awards and the Titans ‘best dressed pink’ fan competition

So YES you can win cash wearing pink to the games – including to Parra Stadium and Kogarah – and tickets are cheap too. Awesome.

We’re gonna be at the leagues club for the Dragons ladies event on Friday night, too. Putting it out there – once the game’s over, we’ll fight you to buy Jamie Soward’s pink boots. Just so you know. Kiki will do the online bidding though, because my finger still hurts.


four nations, getting your pants off, and why rugby league player kicks ass

November 17th, 2009

EXCITING NEWS, DARLINGS! The new edition of Rugby League Player mag came out this Monday, and it’s the 2009 Yearbook issue. And yes, this is pretty exciting on its own, considering it has sweet photo essays and you can win stuff and they have end-of-year awards (sure they’re not as hilarious and amazing as the Errol Awards, but what is? By the way the awards are coming … don’t worry babies!)

The point is: IT ALSO HAS A COLUMN BY US. Kiki and I wrote a double page wrap up of ‘The Year in Review’, complete with hilarious jokes about all the important stuff, like Robbie Farah’s nipples, tap-arse, Wendell, rangas, awkward run ins with Anthony Watmough and State of Origin bloodlust.

SEE? IT’S US! (complete with gratuitous picture of my nerdy reading glasses).

If you haven’t read it already – go! buy! IMMEDIATELY. You won’t regret it.

Oh yeah, in other news the Kangaroos won the Four Nations n stuff. If you missed the game, I can summarise it for you pretty quickly. For 60 minutes it was a competition, then for, um, about 20 minutes or so it just looked like this:

… but repeated over, and over, and over again ad nauseum till the buzzer sounded; then like this:

It was a Billy Slater hattrick, which meant the commentators went on and on incessantly about how well Billy was making up for The Unpleasantness during last years World Cup final against New Zealand. Do you think Billy just cracks it whenever someone brings that up? God knows I would. After all he only did it once, right?


Of course Brett Morris wasn’t gonna come off empty-handed. You know how it’s not really a State of Origin until someone gest punched? Well, in 2009 IT’S NOT A FOUR NATIONS GAME IF B.MOZ DOESN’T SCORE.

Let me rephrase: it’s not a Four Nations game unless B.Moz scores … then the stadium decides to play ‘Land Down Under’ so we can all rock out like massive nerds. Thanks stadium music selector-man! I love Men at Work! *hippie dance*

I do have to be truthful though: when the Aussie boys shaved their mos off last week, it kind of broke my heart. I was deadset struggling to support them through my sorrow. I couldn’t even manage to bother getting up at 6am on Sunday to watch them. Remember last time I left the pub to watch a game? Now that was dedication. I just can’t muster up that kinda devotion anymore though.

The only man holding onto my love is the consistently awesome Nathan Hindmarsh. Oh, Hindy. I adore you even though last week you totally looked like a serial killer with a shotgun. We also, apparently, have something in common. When we’re happy, we celebrate EXACTLY THE SAME WAY. By cracking open the champas and taking our pants off. No one can celebrate properly with elastic digging into their waist. It’s just Science.


I’ma miss seeing that mo on my tv, siiigh. In all honesty, I’m also gonna miss the English commentary team. I didn’t want to like them … but they’re just So Damn Excited. They love life! And Brett Morris! And Sam Burgess! And footy! And the crowd! And ESPECIALLY WHEN THE ENGLISH SCORE A TRY! Their ridiculous excitement for life is totally contagious, and every time they come on I somehow find myself nodding and clapping in agreement with everything that they say, especially when they say things like:

“He is a MAN-MOUNTAIN, Greg Inglis!”

Well-spotted, boys. He really is.

But there is no way I could possibly sum up the glory of the Four Nations as successfully as Nathan Hindmarsh did in the Daily Telegraph:

BIGGEST EATER: David Shillington, hands down. I suspect he might be pregnant, he orders two of everything. And he isn’t shy when dessert comes either.

FUNNIEST STORY: We’d all ordered our food in Paris one night and Trent Waterhouse thought of a joke. He made himself laugh so much he couldn’t spit it out. When he got his mouth working, he asked Ryan “how’s your beef stroganHOFF”. We were all in stitches.

[not gonna lie, I loled. Oh, Trent].

MOST UNTIDY TEAM-MATE: Justin Hodges. I think he unpacks his bag with great vengeance and furious anger. I am pretty sure he wears a pair of undies for four days – forwards, backwards, inside out forwards and inside out backwards. I pity the man rooming with him.

DESCRIBE YOUR ROOM-MATE IN ONE SENTENCE: David Shillington is a softly-spoken 115kg cuddly bear.

[He also pops the collar on his Kangaroos blazer … ooh, FANCY].

IS THERE ONE PLAYER WHO CHANGED YOUR PERCEPTION OF HIM FOR GOOD OR BAD? Sam Thaiday changed my perception of him for the better. And David Shillington has changed it for the worse – all that food that goes in has to come out and I’m looking forward to breathing fresh air again.

Let’s do the whole thing again in four years, kids. What do you say?

Image credits: All Four Nations pics via Getty Images


footy observations: serial killers and soccer

November 13th, 2009

It’s true, all good things come to an end. Just as everyone’s favourite ironic self-promoter Wendell retired, the Kangaroos shaved off their awesome mos. Apparently they didn’t want to face up to the English in the Four Nations final with giant pimpin 70s moustaches.

Johnathan Thurston and his dead mo walking.

To this I say: that’s fucking insane. If you thought the mozzie twins distracted the Frenchies with their saminess and twinniness, how much do you think moustaches would throw the poms off? Johnathon Thurston held out for just a little bit longer than the rest, but eventually even JT went the shave on his Cheech Marin moustache (thanks to Adge for the pop culture reference!) and went clean-faced.

RIP the mos. My pants and my heart are equally sad.

Although not nearly as sad as they were when I realised that as part of their training in England the boys have been playing soccer.

Shillo and Jarryd-with-a-Y making my ladyparts depressed.

…. and Robbie helps them finish the job.

SOCCER? REALLY? As if I don’t have enough problems, now my national league team is inflicting the most boring of all God’s creations – soccer – on me. And no, I won’t call it football. I refuse. YOU CAN’T MAKE ME. UNLESS YOU’RE EUROPEAN, CALLING SOCCER FOOTBALL IS JUST KINDA PRETENTIOUS KTHANKS.

Billy Slater had limited success. Probably would have done better with a round ball. He may be the Special Child of the Kangaroos.

And according to Kangaroos TV the boys have also been busy doing other-things-that-in-no-way-relate-to-rugby-league. For their day off they went, wait for it …. trap shooting. Really. No offence intended to the Kangaroos squad, but if I was in charge and sitting behind my giant mahogany desk reading my emails and approving requests for the Kangaroos on which activities the ARL was willing to pay for them to do, ones involving WEAPONS would not be high on my list. After the two year scandal-fest that has been the Aussie NRL in 2008 and 2009, I would totally have a nothing that cuts or shoots policy for all footy players at all times. Instead of kitting them out with guns and sending them to a field in England where they might accidentally shoot:

a) a miscellaneous Pom

b) some kind of valuable privately-owned pheasant

c) themselves

d) all of the above,

and end up in the British tabloids, I would have a firmly Soft Objects Only policy. You know, stuff like … sending them to play in the ball room at Ikea. Building forts out of doonas. Eating marshmallows. That kinda thing.

I seriously can’t believe the whole thing didn’t end in tears and/or a lawsuit.

I think it explains why the players had to shave off their moustaches, though. I’ve watched a lot of Crime documentaries in my time, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned about creepy serial killer type dudes, it’s that they are bandits for a moustache. I’m not kidding. The Green River Killer, Jeffrey Dahmer, Leonard Lake … it’s moustaches ahoy!

Basically, nothing is creepier than a man with a mo carrying a weapon. Most of the time they are just plain awesome, but with a gun in your hand, all of a sudden you look kinda like you should be driving an unmarked white van and doing something shifty.

I think Nathan Hindmarsh and his few-day’s-growth proves this pretty authoritatively. Swap that microphone for a shotty and he would be TERRIFYING. Moustaches and shooting just don’t mix.

Of course no Kangaroos update would be complete without our Dave Taylor (also moustache-less) spotting for the day. HI DT!

Back in Australia Willie Mason is in trouble for mouthing off.

In other news the sky is blue.

And the Gold Coast Titans have some schmick new uniforms for 2010:

Does anyone else think Scotty Prince has been practising this? His pensive yet content look into the distance is pretty much perfect right here.  Has he secretly been doing catalogue work no one knows about? Cause that shit is GOOD.

Scotty gets some feedback on his ‘pensive’ face

Meanwhile I know y’all love updates on the Errol staff. Work experience boy Lachie has been on light duties since he injured his shoulder and has been hitting the weights to get all bulked up. Clearly we would’ve appreciated it more if he used his newfound strength to make Wendell Sailor stay at St. George, but NO DICE. We’re gonna have to have a talk with him I think.

And I’ll leave you with Adam MacDougall’s thoughts on Wendell leaving:

THE game is going to miss Wendell Sailor – but not as much as I will.



All pics via Getty Images


footy observations: kangaroos and movember

November 7th, 2009

One week into Movember already … I’m so happy/sad/overwhelmed in my pants region. Obviously I’m overjoyed that people are starting to show some dirty facial hair, but kinda heartbroken at the same time that my favourite month of the year is already a quarter over. IF ONLY THERE WAS A WHOLE MO-YEAR. Mo-thousand-and-ten, anyone? Two-thousand-and-beard-leven?

Just think about it, people. That’s all I ask.

Meanwhile the Four Nations is also almost over, which I suppose we should talk about. The Kangaroos held out a spirited comeback by the English last weekend, blah blah blah … the main thing is Adrian Morley didn’t start any fights. This meant I was disappointed, so let’s move on. Even though they won, the boys still have to face off against France before making it to the final.

And there’s been lots of dramz about the fact that Inglis and Cam Smith and Billy Slater weren’t going to be in the team. Instead, (one half of the cutest twins on earth) J. Moz and Michael Jennings were picked to play in the centres, Robbie Farah at hooker, and Cooper Cronk on the bench.

Sexiest coach in league nominee Tim Sheens is Not Pleased.

Everyone was calling them the “B team”, which in my opinion = not really that bad. Call me crazy, but considering my greatest ever sporting achievement was taking out the 50m backstroke final at the Independent Girls Grammar Schools’ Sporting Association swimming carnival in 1993, I reckon being in the B team for the Kangaroos is pretty fucking sweet. Just sayin. Apparently Tim Sheens has higher standards than me, though, because he was tres offended.

Kiki was also offended, because she agrees with whatever Tim Sheens thinks, because, and I quote “HE’S JUST SO DREAMY”. True story.

Personally, I also think reuniting the Mozzie twins on the left side of the field is a stroke of coaching genius. First of all, it will give them a psychological boost to get them over the fact that while everyone else in the Kangaroos is sporting amazing Movember moustaches, they’re sporting … um … skin. Sure you’re hairless, but you’re representing your country! Good for you darlings!

Will the Errol girls still love me if I can’t grow hair for charity?

Secondly, it’s totally gonna confuse the Frenchies. Since Setanta folded, I’m guessing the French haven’t been watching much of the NRL. Assuming French television is as backwards as french plumbing, this means all they’ll have had to watch for the past few months is right-wing political talk shows, repeats of Neighbours dubbed into French and old Jane Birkin film clips.

Clearly, this means that they’ll get the shock of their lives when two identical twins run out on the field and they have to mark them.

They’ll be all mais qu’est-ce que c’est? Quelle confusion! Est-ce qu’ils sont des gemelles? Je ne sais pas! Croissant! Ou est-ce qu’on met le table?

(Disclaimer: some of that may have just been random snippets from my year 7 French book. Whatever. Just be grateful I didn’t accidentally explain to you how to get the bus to Creteil to go windsurfing).

The point is Tim Sheens is a Machiavellian genius.

There’s also a lot of talk about the French being niggly in the game, because they have nothing to lose. I also think it would happen, mainly because they are French. Europeans care not for rules! It’s one of my favourite things about them. I almost fell over in shock the first time I got to a Metro station in Paris and realised not only are there no voiceovers warning you to stand back from the track and no yellow lines, they even let you OPEN THE DOOR YOURSELF. Insanity! Who knew there were places where you’re allowed to do as you please and fend for yourself? You can even drink in the street.

As opposed to Australia where there are rules for absolutely everything, because we are considered to be inherently kind of incompetent and untrustworthy and need to be protected from ourselves. IT’S CAUSE WE’RE CONVICTS, ISN’T IT?

Meanwhile if you think we’re excited about footy, you should see the French kids. They’re bandits for the Kangaroos! Apparently they mobbed Jonathon Thurston and trapped him against the side of the team bus with the sheer force of their fandom.

Maybe it’s because he’s a world-famous halfback. But maybe, just maybe, it’s because the French appreciate a good moustache. I’m going with the mo. You know it makes sense! It also explains why there’s that massive flock of kids surrounding David Shillington, because he is growing an especially natty mo, don’t you think?

Aw, stop it you guys! You’re making me blush! (Just kidding, don’t stop).

What can I say? I’m a sucker for a classic mo. As much as I enjoy the way Jonathon Thurston looks as though he was a key player in the Sydney waterfront dispute of 1998:

(Pls feel free to use your imagination to insert and/or photoshop Jonathon Thurston here.)

… I can’t resist a neat little 1930s moustache. Which means that the Sassy prize for the first week goes to Cooper Cronk:

Amazing. It’s almost Errol Flynn-ish. Naturally, we adore it.

Jennings and Thaiday are eager to be considered for next week’s Sassy prize

Yes, yes, we see you too, boys.

And while we’re talking facial hair, shout outs have to go to Billy Slater, for his amazing Super Mario effort:

Nathan Hindmarsh for his ongoing transformation into Russell Hammond:

and, um …. participation awards? Sure, let’s call it that, for Jarryd-with-a-Y and Robbie Farah:

Participation awards, babies! (Also, in Robbie’s defence, he has probably been too busy negotiating with the Unions and transport companies on the waterfront with JT to have time to grow a mo).

Remember to watch the game TONIGHT on channel 9, and come back with your game/mo updates. And to sponsor the boys:


All pics via Getty Images.


footy observations: the feel-good edition

October 27th, 2009

So you know how we can be narky bitches? Some things make even our black hearts overflow with joy. And two of those things are happening RIGHT NOW. Thanks to some pretty fabulous boys, October and November have quickly become my favourite non-footy time of the year.


Remember last year we told y’all about Justin Poore, Nathan Hindmarsh and the boys and the awesome work they were doing for Village of Hope in Rwanda?

Pic. Gregg Porteous via news.com.au

Well apparently it was enough to inspire J.Poore to single-handedly try and provide enough content to fill up the Daily Telegraph’s ‘Scandal-Free Back Page’ for the whole of 2009. Because using his giant front-rowers arms to build homes for the Rwandans still suffering from the genocide of the 1990s wasn’t enough, he set up Poore Rwanda, which has already raised more than 30 grand towards the goal of building five homes for families in need, AND has taken another bunch of Eels players over to do their bit.

Um …. are you speechless? Yeah, me too. Pretty sure when I first heard about all of this I had to pause, put my cereal spoon down (why yes, I was having cereal for dinner. What of it?), and the only words I could manage to spit out were: “YOU MAKE ME WANT TO BE A BETTER MAN”.

Seeing the work J.Poore, Joel Reddy, Joe Galuvao, Tim Mannah and Kris Keating were doing on this trip is almost too much, you know?

I’m like a five year old, I don’t handle too much excitement well. Like the time in Las Vegas when I was so drunk excited at the prospect of seeing Elton John live at Caesar’s Palace I almost lost my damn mind. Kiki literally had to tell me to STOP SKIPPING THROUGH THE CASINO. YOU LOOK LIKE AN INSANE PERSON. It may have been because I was wearing a leopard print skirt at the time. I’m not sure. But I do know she was thisclose to giving me a flash of Phenergen and sending me back to the Hard Rock.

So you can imagine what I looked like when I saw the first pics of the boys over in Rwanda. Not just being adorable and doing good … but being fucking hilarious and awesome and Oz. They’re pretty much international ambassadors for Aussie culture.

Which makes sense, really, because if there’s one thing Australian men always ALWAYS do when their overseas, it’s roam in packs. Seeing an Aussie man alone overseas is like spotting a Tasmanian Tiger. And it’s the same with footy players – where there’s one, there’s always more. Usually also wearing screen-printed hoodies or team tracksuit pants. Cause that’s how they roll.

And the Eels boys over in Rwanda didn’t just have the ‘group travel thing down’ … they’re also ambassadors for Aussie fashionz. Check it out:

Joel Reddy displays the national costume of all Aussie boys when overseas: boardshorts.


And is that a chesty bonds I spy over there on the left on Justin Poore? A CHESTY BONDS LOOKING ON WHILE TIM MANNAH DOES THE WORM?

Excuse me while I die of joy.

So far, Hope Rwanda has built 30 houses for homeless families in three years, and if you wanna give them a little helping hand, maybe head over to HOPE:Rwanda or Poore Rwanda … you know you want to.

ps. Welcome home, boys!

Rwanda pics copyright www.hoperwanda.org


And yep, that’s the other reason why October and November make me happy in my heart … and in my pants. ONLY FIVE SLEEPS TILL MOVEMBER!

Nyello, I have an awesome mo on the line … will you accept the charges?

All of us Errol girls are complete bandits for a man with a moustache. Which, to be honest, you should be able to tell considering that we have Errol Flynn and his dapper little moustache rocking out on our website banner. HI EZ!

I love any man who’s willing to give up vanity and be part of Movember. Cause those first two weeks of trying to grow a mo are seriously bleak. They’re the facial hair equivalent of those awkward teenage years, where you have to wander around your workplace trying to look authoritative and competent despite the fact that you have four or five tentative, sad little moustache hairs sitting on your lip, and everyone looking at you like they’re not quite sure whether you’re doing Movember, or have just gone through a bad breakup and given up on life.

Plus you can’t wear a tracksuit of any kind for at least a fortnight cause, with the creepy little half-mo, it makes you look like a teenage meth dealer.

The upside, of course, is that at the end of four weeks you have a fucking sweet moustache that makes me girls go crazy for you, and you get to raise much-needed funds and awareness for men’s depression and prostate cancer. [I’d like to add that this will be our first ever Movember where one of us is actually going out with a mo-grower. That lady is me and I could not be more excited *waves at Suchy* – lozzy]

So any man who signs up for Movember has our respect. Also, they can feel free to come up and say hi if they see me in the street and I’ll give them complimentary gropes.

Last year we celebrated Movember by running our own campaign with everyone’s favourite intern, John Williams … can you believe we raised almost TWO AND A HALF GRAND? I seriously still can’t believe it.

This year, we’re not running our own Mo-team, but we’re doing something almost as good. We’re throwing our support behind the Kangaroos.

Because you all read our blog over on She Knows the Rules (you do … right? RIGHT? Hmmmm?) you already know that this year the Kangaroos are doing Movember.

Finally! Our dream of footy players being forced to participate in Movember has come true. Apparently they’re actually competing to see who can grow the best mo, but I think we all know already that’s gonna be Cameron Smith. There’s no way that bitch is gonna let anyone beat him. THIS IS HIS EVENT. HE FUCKING OWNS IT. If there was a Four Nations Tournament for hair-growing he would be captain, for reals. With Sam Thaiday as his deputy.

Cam Smith has already hinted he plans to grow a handlebar, also known as the Merv Hughes. Good choice, by the way.

But in case the rest of the boys are undecided, I’ve got a few suggestions. 

Robbie Farah is clearly a special for the Errol Flynn. Nothing would go better with his neatest-hair-in-the-world than a dapper little Errol mo.

I think he’s got the fashion sense to pull it off too. When the Wests Tigers media officer asked him about Kangaroos camp, he gave us this gem about Royce Simmons:

Roycey is always Roycey…tries to be funny but really he isn’t. We always laugh but what he doesn’t know is that we are laughing at him, not with him. He has promised me he’ll let me take him shopping while we’re over here because I’m sick of his crap polo shirts and ugly brown shoes that he always wears. He must have 10 pairs of them!

Oh, Robbie. 

I’ve also decided nothing would go better with Nathan Hindmarsh’s Russell Hammond hair than a Dennis Lillee.

And Billy Slater, aka Errol’s Newest Footy Crush … well, my spidey senses tell me he can probably grow about as much of a mo as I can. Which before you ask IS NOT VERY MUCH. God. What kind of girl do you think I am? So instead of suggesting a mo, I’m just gonna FedEx him this:

If you want to sign up, or sponsor the Kangaroos, get over to the Movember site.



And probably the thing that makes us happiest: THERE’S STILL FOOTY ON. Thank God, cause it means we don’t have to go straight from four days of footy a week to none. Cold turkey is a bitch. Instead we’ve got the Four Nations to ease us out of the regular season.

And if you’re like me, you watched the Four Nations games on replay on Foxtel. The way the lord intended. Unless I’m getting home at 5am … I don’t want anything to do with the sunrise. It’s uncivilised and unhealthy and I refuse to have anything to do with it. Just one of the many reasons why I’m a writer.

To be completely truthful, it was sort of hard to get up at midday, but that’s not the point.

Pic. Getty Images

The point is it was worth it. Errol favourite Brett Morris scoring on debut for the Kangaroos AND first try of the game. GO B.MOZ GO! I can say with full certainty it was our support during the season that made this possible. Some may say it was thanks to Cameron Smith’s brilliant offload and Greg Inglis’ excellent run, but I KNOW BETTER. That shit was all thanks to Errol.

Yes, he also … well, he sort of fell over and missed out on scoring another try earlier in the game:

“I was trying to set up an in and away on the fullback and I went to step off my foot and I fell down a hole. I put my foot down … tripped over and looked like an idiot. It wasn’t too good.”

Whatever. I maintain that was only because his legs are so long. Like Bambi. IT’S NOT HIS FAULT, PEOPLE.

Apparently B.Moz’s appeal is international, too, because the Sky commentators can’t get enough of him. As far as I can tell, the only time they stopped talking about Fui Fui Moi Moi and Jared Warea-Hargreaves was when they spent 10 minutes waxing lyrical about B.Moz. Isn’t he fast? Did you know he started the year in reserve grade? And he’s only only 23! And on debut!

Um, of course we know. We’re way ahead of the curve, bitches.

Till next time, kittens x


footy observations: grand finals and prison breaks

October 1st, 2009

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.


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.

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.


footy observations: fishies in water

April 7th, 2009

So we’re officially back in footy season, hurrah! And obviously we don’t just bring you our incredibly informative game recaps, we also like to hook you up with what the teams get up to at training and recovery. 

If nothing else, it should help you with your tips.

You certainly shouldn’t listen to me and my ‘intuition’, because after round 4 I am now sitting on an average of just over four correct tips a week.  Four!  Out of Eight!  

Do you know what that means? It means that my brain … my human brain, that biological miracle, that unbelievably complex labyrinth of nerve and synapse; when it comes to tipping, using my brain is pretty much as effective as using a coin.  My brain is no smarter than a small round disc made of brass. True story.

Anyway. Last week it was all about the water recovery session. And I’ve realised you can pretty much track the boys progress by their water sessions. Check out the Raiders last week rocking out in the Canberra aquatic center:

Is T Camps … singing? Why I do believe he is. Just bustin out a few showtunes as he jogs around the lap pool. Washing away the memory of getting beaten by the Eels and that bitch of a ref who disallowed their AWESOME split-scrum try.

And just look at the boys rocking out in the background.  For some reason we especially love the thought of Trevor Thurling joining in.  Or as some of our fans like to call him, Sexmachine Trevor Thurling.

There really IS nothin like a dame!

End result: a reinvigorated attack and glorious victory over the Cowboys down in Canberra.

Compare and contrast Boromir from Lord of the Rings Nathan Hindmarsh over at the Eels’ recovery:

No one ever wants to re-enact Grease with me.

… and if they do I never get to be Kenicki.

and the happy-clappy Roosters having superfuntimes rolling around on the grass at Moore Park:

How happy is Shaun Kenny-Dowall?  He just REALLY LOVES ROLLING.  I tried so so hard to stay pissed off at the Roosters after their loss to the Tigers, then I saw this and … I can’t stay mad at you babies.  Especially you Shaun Kenny-Dowall.  I adore him.  I have no idea why, I JUST DO.  

We even have a special Errol nickname for him that I’m only allowed to yell from the sideline and not allowed to say on Errol.  The girls have forbidden me, because … well because it sounds kind of offensive.  But I swear I SAY IT WITH LOVE.

And the point is this: when the miserable pool-going Parra came up against the We!Love!Rolling! Roosters at the SFS, the Roosters took those bitches down.  A happy team is a winning team. It’s just Fact. You can’t argue with science!

So I’m going to save you, oh, about 2 seconds indecision, and tell you not to waste your money on the Sharks this weekend. Bitches are miserable. Just look at them:

Toops looks like he really regrets not being able to stick with the Roosters and roll his cares away. He is so going home to eat an entire cheesecake and pass out in a food coma in his boxers. Ben Pomeroy also probably has several bruises.

The Pom has difficulty walking with flippers. Even though the flippers aren’t on his feet.

And I’m gonna put my money on the Dragons too. For one thing because Jamie ‘Tiny Dancer’ Soward and Baby Chase Stanley look like happy little kids out there on their surfboards. But also because Lozzy might cut me if I don’t.

You see Jamie Soward has worked his mojo on Lozzy. He won her over with his cheeky grin and the little dance he does before he kicks for goal.  You know the one: the chicken dance in a circle, followed by the march, the pause, and the little prance as he kicks.  The one Phil Gould describes as ‘like my cat about to do a shit’. Why do you think we call him Tiny Dancer?

Well it seems Tiny Dancer is rapidly catching up to T Camps as her favourite footy player, and I always have to support the girls’ teams. I’m a good friend like that.


two-for-one recap: remedial footy and rain gods

April 2nd, 2009

No proper recap from me this week. Instead you get two incoherent rants about two different games smooshed together to look like one.  Oh, you wanted a comprehensive game run-down? Well:

a) I was hungover for one of these games, and

b) it’s my blog and I’m lazy.

So you better like what you get or I will kick you in the shins.


Aah I love when these two play.  It’s a bonanza of retro!  Clearly Marc Herbert and Terry Campese have taken time out from their busy schedule of signing up for World War I to be here, and Nathan Hindmarsh and Joel Reddy have kindly time-travelled from the seventies to make it a fair competition.

I actually mistook Reddy for Hindy when he was gossiping in the corner of the changeroom with Eric Grothe, Jr before the game, which obviously means his mop is coming closer and closer to the awesomeness of Hindy’s.  Close … but not quite.

Pic. Mark Evans

Captain Hindy of the Wildcats has brought a whole new game this year in terms of hair.  BEST HAIR EVER, RIGHT?  We say yes.

Coincidence that this Best Hair Ever has Parra sitting at number 7 on the ladder with two wins out of three?  Coincidence that Joel Reddy seems to be playing better than ever now that he’s gone the mop?  You can’t argue with Science, people.  You can’t argue with Science.

Ok so I haven’t quite figured out where Fui Fui Moi Moi’s new mullet fits into this theory, but I’m working on it, babies.  I really am. I even have my lab coat on as we speak.

Disclaimer: may be stand-in science lady and not actual Sassy

Do you know what though?  There’s something better than the Parra festival of Kick-ass Seventies Hair … the comeback of Eric Grothe, Jr.  That’s right bitches, GROTHE IS BACK.  It’s THE RENAISSANCE OF GROTHE.

Pic. Mark Evans

Renaissance is the perfect word too, cause Guru isn’t just the comeback kid of Parra … he’s also – as Suchy reminded us the other day – the lead guitarist of Three Day Grothe AND lead singer of Shinobi.  Bitch doesn’t just play footy, he’s a musician. And – get this – a comedian.  Three Day Grothe … see what he did there?  Eric Grothe, Jr is pretty much a Renaissance man. Bet he plays chess and studies archaeology too.

The Errol office was filled with glee when he put down the match-winning try. SOMEONE DOESN’T HAVE TO GO BACK TO RESERVE GRADE!  SOMEONE GETS TO STAY IN FIRST GRADE WITH THE BIG BOYS!

How does it feel, Eric?

… Aw yeah, pretty good. I’m excited to get to use proper pencils and pieces of paper with corners again.

And is there a particular reason you’re not wearing a shirt for this interview?

Not allowed to have proper shirts in Reggies, only jerseys. Coach says we might pull the buttons off, try and eat them and get choked.

The only failure in this game was that Canberra couldn’tquitemanage to bring back the scrum-split for a try.  Next time, darlins.



As Kiki said, even though it COMPLETELY ruined our tips (thanks for nuthin, Sea Eagles) we loved seeing the Panthers get up at Brookvale.  And not just because our favourite Baby Panthers Lachlan Coote and Wade Graham were total stars.

Pic. Phil Hillyard

Yes, we did discover them.  Feel free to send us royalties of some kind.

It was also a massive game of firsts. First time that Steve Matai busted his hair out in a curly ponytail, first time we ever saw work experience boy Lachie pack into a scrum. (Which didn’t go too well, if you were wondering. Think: “LACHLAN. GET YER HEAD IN”.)

Also the first time Des Hasler got so incredibly enraged that he affected the physical world.  We are massive fans of Des Hasler’s Rage.  One of my personal highlights of the 2008 season was seeing Dave Williams fumble the ball and Dessie scream ‘MOTHERFUCKER’ from the coaching box.  We are also massive fans of his full and feathery head of golden hair. Which is why I especially love it when he spews a tirade into the coaching mike then concludes it by whipping off his headset and shaking his mane as if to say AND THAT’S ALL THE ABUSE YOU GET.  Oh, Des.

I would actually like it if they could somehow organise for there to be a Dessie-cam every time I watch Manly play on tv. Just a little Dessie-cam box down in the left corner. That Monday night game was a festival of fumbles and penalties and general no-no times and for every single one that happened we screamed out from the couch to see Dessie’s reaction. ‘Cut to Des!’ we cried. ‘SHOW US DESSSIEEEEEE!’

Dessie just really cracked it this time.  It’s no coincidence that it started pissing down at Brookie precisely as Des was giving his halftime speech and/or silent treatment. You can trust me on that, cause I have a lab coat.

It was raining so bloody hard Matai had to put his hair in a bun. That bitch Hasler has found a way to channel his fury and control the weather.  He’s a weather god … like THOR. Cept instead of a hammer he has a headset.

You know those boys know what they’re in for too. I swear little Shane Neumann is looking up at the coach’s box in terror.

Michael Robertson on the other hand … well he pretty much looks like that all the time now.


We’re getting kinda Concerned about Robbo, to be honest. With Brett Stewart out, Robbo’s been shunted back to fullback.

And if you look really closely in his eyes, every time one of the wingers does something good, Robbo sees his spot on the wing slipping away and dies just a little bit inside. Same thing whenever Adam Cuthbertson does something good and people discuss how he has a rocking Wolfman beard now. Especially the same thing whenever Robbo fumbles the ball or passes across the sideline to an imaginary man and has no no times.

If you’re wondering I also missed some of the game because at one point the commentary team said Shane Neumann “just found himself in an awkward situation on a wet evening” and I giggled for ages.  Who HASN’T, Shane.  Who hasn’t.


And lastly I wanna introduce a Brand New Errol Superstar. We were always Michael Gordon fans, but that was before he went ahead and grew a moustache.

I wonder if the Errol girls will like my new mo?

Well actually, more like I realised he was hot last year, then completely forgot he existed during the off-season because I have a memory like Swiss cheese. Although apparently I am very consistent in my taste in men because I thought the same thing all over again this year.  I win at life!

It’s just like the time I sauntered over and cracked onto a cute scruffy blond boy at the Brighton Bar, only for him to tell me I had done exactly the same thing and pashed him the week before. OOPS. On the bright side he didn’t seem to mind.

Anyway. God knows there’s nothing we love more than a man with a mo … and we’re 99% sure he grew it specifically to be on Errol.

UNCANNY! It’s like he is Errol Flynn. Well we love it, baby. Thumbs up, Mister Gordon.

Thanks to the lovely BS for the MG and Eric Grothe caps. Check out the whole blog, why don’t ya?


super saturday recap: warriors vs eels

March 15th, 2009

Welcome back, babies!  Have you missed our footy recaps in the off-season? My guess is yes.  Because we are funny bitches.  Actually, that’s a lie.  More like football is a funny bitch.  How did we live without it for so many months?

I’ve already cracked up once today at the news that Denis Fitzgerald wants to ban the Parramatta players from the booze.  Now you know we don’t take league dramas lightly … but really, Denis?  Really?  This is the plan?  If this is the best they got, then dammmmmn league is in trouble.  In the brilliant words of Nathan Hindmarsh: “good luck policing that”.

Best of all: the news crews asked the boys what they thought as they arrived back at the airport from New Zealand … and Joel Reddy was carrying a bag full of duty free booze.  Um … it’s for my girlfriend? Oh yeah, this is gonna work a treat.  I’m sure the urine tests will also do wonders for player-admin relations.

Meanwhile I’m recapping the Eels-Warriors game, if you’re wondering, because there is not a chance of me recapping my boys playing the Rabbitohs. That shit was brutal.  Once I peeled myself off the ground and stopped trying to gnaw off my own leg, then lost interest and ate a biscuit instead, I repressed all the memories for my own mental health.  So this is what you get.  Now onto the footy.

The boys are playing down in New Zealand, which means that the Warriors have to run onto the field through that really terrifying dripping, dark sewer tunnel that leads from the change room out onto Mt. Smart Stadium. Considering that the Warriors also wear black, and are being led out by a phalanx of little kids, the whole thing is very Law & Order: SVU. Dun-dun.

To the tunnel! Emergency in the tunnel!

They are still not running out to Patti Smith ‘The Warrior’, which I feel is a total travesty.  It’s as if the staff down there don’t even read Errol.

Because the game is at Mount Smart, we also get the Kiwi Sky commentary team. I know they have names, but I don’t know them.  Let’s just call them Tum and Phul.

The Kiwi boys are super emotional tonight, and to be honest, so am I.  The incredible, ageless Steve Price is about to play his 300th game of Rugby League.  But also, everyone is still in mourning for Sonny Fai, after his loss in the off-season.  The sadness on all the team and friends’ faces during a minute of silence is almost too much to bear.  RIP, Sonny.

Gordon Tallis pops his head up on my TV to congratulate Pricey, and tell us all “I dunno how you can be that pretty and play in the front row”.  HE IS PRETTY.  I’m so glad somebody else noticed.  And even more glad it was Gordie. I totally have a dirty old man crush on Steve Price.

Steve Price is also pretty much a miracle man because:

a) he is a Dirty Queenslander, and;

b) we somehow love him nonetheless.



How can you not love that? It’s so … tender. Steve Price and Scotty Prince should be studied for science.

The game starts with the Warriors all over possession like me all over a scruffy-haired boy at the Brighton Bar … but less pervy.  One of our Errol favourites Manu Vatuvei almost dives through on the left hand wing for a try.  THE BEAST.  He’s cut off his fro, but that bitch still looks fierce.

I should admit that I tipped the Kiwis in our ErrolTips competition, so I almost spill my drink in joy when Joel Moon slip’n’slides under a defender for a Warriors try.

Joel Moon has just moved down from Queensland to play for the Warriors, and I’ll admit I’m not a Moon afficionado, but I’ll take a wild guess that this guy:

… not a big fan of cold New Zealand weather. He definitely doesn’t look happy that he has to wear pants on the field.  The clothes!  They burn!

Ropati, Moon and Henderson are lurking around the tryline, and the Warriors look kinda scary today.  After teasing me for minutes, they send in Russell Packer for a try. I have never heard of this Russell Packer, which may be because I generally show little to no interest in anything that involves New Zealand.  Nonetheless, that is a cracker of a name.  I would enjoy more men named Russell in general life.

Disclaimer: May not be actual Russell Packer.

Apparently Denan Kemp is the new Kiwi kicker, which reminds me that Michael Witt has been unceremoniously booted from the team and has flounced off to … play union or something. Traitor. 12-0.

If I haven’t mentioned Parramatta much, it’s because they haven’t done much. Krisnan Inu proves me wrong by taking a lovely catch from a high ball.  Luke Burt joins in and pops a ball to Ben Smith for an Eric Grothe, Jr try.

Did anyone else forget about Eric Grothe? I’ll admit it, I did.  Which is sad, because he is kind of a hot bitch.  Things are always more emotional when they involve hot people.  Tum and Phul enjoy rubbing in the fact that back in 2005 he was playing tests, while in 2008 he was playing reserve grade with boys ten years younger than he is. It’s super mean and I enjoy it.

I seriously thought he was still in reserve grade, but apparently he’s been moved out of remedial and back into the big boys’ class.  Good for you, mister.

In the process of crossing the line, Eric Jr also becomes the first man to flash his arse in 2009. FIRST CRACK OF THE YEAR!  His family must be so proud.  Burt converts for 12-6.

Vatuvei makes another fabulous break, and Michael Luck in his awesome retro headband comes up against Nathan Hindmarsh.  I am so completely overjoyed … Hindy’s seventies hair is BACK.  *high kick*

Russell Hammond we love your work!

I like to think he found out about the 2008 Errol Awards and was so devastated not to win ‘Best Hair‘ that he grew it back just for us.  Between this and Joel Reddy’s seventies mop my pants are really enjoying this game.  What can I say?  I love a man with long hair.

Fien sets up a Hohaia try and Tum and Phul use the phrase “in the thick of things”.  I shudder. [I’d like to point out that we were all chatting on msn when this happened, which meant Kiki and Sassy both e-yelled ‘THUCK OF THUNGS!!’ at the same time. This is the kind of behind the scenes gold you guys miss out on – lozzy] Parra’s Jarryd Hayne gives away a penalty and Tum and Phul scream ‘JARRYD HAYNE YOU ARE DEADSET KIDDING YOURSELF”.  I love an unbiased commentary team. Can I also say that Hayne is playing in the number sux jersey and I am really uncertain that he can pull this off. It unnerves me. Anyway, carry on.

Fui Fui Moi Moi smashes the ball from Brent Tate and it’s halftime. 18-6, Warriors.   Cut up the oranges!

We come back onto the field and Eric Grothe starts doing his best to be sent back to remedial class.  He is deadset Fumbles McGee.


Meanwhile I totally take back everything I said about Tum and Phul, because Fierce Manu Vatuvei smashes into Jarryd-with-a-Y Hayne and they carol: “that was SPECTACULAR! … if not illegal”.

They have their priorities straight.

Eric Grothe knocks on and cracks it. He is thisclose to lying down and banging his fists on the ground. Someone doesn’t want to have to go back to using paper scissors, am I right?

Josh Cordoba is pulled up for a penalty, which is clearly a penalty of LIES. A Warrior quite clearly popped the ball out with a knee in the tackle.  I will say that in general I lovvve the two ref system though. So fast! No video ref! It makes me happy in my pants. Sure we have an awkward moment where one ref calls knock on, and one calls play on, but I figure they can just resolve any problems like that in the same way we resolve problems in the Errol office. By mixing cocktails, watching movies and braiding each other’s hair.

And much as we finished off the first half, Fui Fui Moi Moi farewells the game by absolutely smashing a Warrior, braids a-flying. Michael Luck gets carted off, and … curtain. 26-18.

Football, I’m so glad you’re back.