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.

Because you are all truly invested in my well being, lets begin with a Health Update! And god knows theres nothing more exciting than people talking about their health woes. CAN YOU HANDLE THE EXCITEMENT?

Thankfully, turns out I don’t have Ebola. So no Ben Hornby style bleeding from the eyes for me. It turns out I was vomming blood because I have…wait for it…an ulcerated eosphagus.  You know in cop shows theres always that one old crusty detective that’s all drinking coffee/booze/eating hotdogs and is all ’GODAMNIT! we have to solve this murder! I don’t have time for this ulcer shit!’. THAT’S ME! I am now literally a withered old wino. I’m feeling like death warmed up and have been schlepping around the office sooking up a storm. Intern John-John just hates to see people sad, so today he waltzed in wearing this outfit to cheer me up.

He’s so thoughtful! If sunflower nipple pasties can’t cheer a person up, what can? By the way, he doesn’t like us to talk about it, but John-John regularly visits hospital wards dressed like this to bring happiness and goodwill to sickypants people. Sadly occupational health and safety laws require him to wear pants, but he powers on regardless.

(by the way, he keeps grabbing me and saying ‘Look Kiki no hands..balloon goes up! balloon goes down…balloon goes up! BALLOON GOES UPPPP!’. How is he making it move like that? Mystery!)

My doctor alleges its all due to my love of booze and subsequent hungover Nurofen Plus taking but clearly he has no idea. I know whats up. Google tells me another cause of this condition is stress. You know what REALLY caused my tummy tube problem? THE BLOODY DRAGONS.

Ezra Shaw/Getty Images

Have I ever had stress related health problems in the off season? I think not! I have made many a joke about my boys giving me a stroke or a heart attack but now those inconsistent bitches have gone and literally ULCERATED MY INSIDES. Needless to say I am not a happy chicken after their weekend efforts. Not only did we publicly tip them on the radio two weeks in a row but they also killed me in the soul with their absolute lack of form. They embarassed me both personally AND professionally. No wonder I’m bleeding internally.

To be honest I don’t want to talk about the actual football. Except THAT WAS SO A TRY. You know it was. I watched the game at Sassy’s house. When I say ‘watched’ I mean curled up in the fetal position on the lounge peeking at the horror through my hands. I had never noticed just how physical my reactions to my team are until Sassy helpfully pointed out…KIKI! THE DRAGONS MAKE YOU GO FETAL! YOU’VE GONE FETAL SWEETIE! And it’s true. They kill me.

Thankfully, although the Dragons couldn’t seem to muster much of a performance…Matt ‘Hot Bitch’ Cooper came through with a performance all his own. A fine performance in the arse…I mean arts. He musta known I was crying sad sad tears, because he just busted out some of his best arse work to date. Don’t squish squish Kiki, look…look how pretty my bum is!

I’m looking Coops! Awww it’s LOVELY! Thanks baby, thanks. But that wasn’t enough for Hot Bitch…at one point he even SMILED for me!

Oh wait no…that’s just his usual grimace of deep seated unfulfillment. Damn.

I was a little worried about this game. Worried in the sense of ‘will I have mixed feelings because I do kinda like Manly?’. Well no, as soon as the whistle blew all I could see was red and white. Manly who? SMASH EM BOYS. But then Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale and Our Davey Williams had some sort of horrific ingoal collision and managed to both injure themselves and I cared about someone in Maroon again. In our minds they are part of the Errol family and here was not one but two of our boys writhing in pain. SHIT! Get the jaws of life! THIS IS BAD KIKI, THIS IS VERY VERY BAD shrieked Sassy. OH GOD I KNOW, yelled I. Thanks only to our fervent prayers to the Baby Jesus, our mans emerged from the trauma relatively unscathed.

Despite his awesome/slightly disturbing howling at the moon try, The Hot Pioneer well…he had some no-no times. He even caused Dessie to yell MOTHERFUCKER at one point. He really did, I saw it. My lip reading skills are exemplary.

David immediately regretted his decision to groom his beard during play

Don’t worry Davey, we still love you. You know who else loves you? MATTHEW JOHNS. We thought our obsession with you was bordering on creepy, but Matty’s takes the cake. The Crush Cake! Or is that the Mancrush Cake? Mmmmm…cake.

That bitch can barely contain his delight whenever Davey is on camera. Sassy called it ages ago, and as usual ERROL IS ALWAYS RIGHT. We thought our thrusting at the TV was bad, but on Saturday night Matty showed us how Creepy is really done. In the aftermath of the Howling @ The Moon Try, Matty moaned into his microphone -

“Oooooh and hes howling at the mooooon! AND HIS HAIR IS PERFECT! Rabs forget your man Steve Matai, Williams is MY MAAAAAAN!”

Ummmmm. Well…..well, I have no words. So lets use pictures instead.

(Note – Pls look at Davey returning the love with an arse slap. Whore! I knew I liked him for a reason. We are kindred spirits Y/N?)

In a yucky week for league, I feel it’s necessary to not only remind myself, but everyone else…that there is still heart warming awesomeness in league. And it’s no suprise it’s coming from Snuggliest Man Nominee, Prince Scotty the Caramel. There is a backstory to these photos, but really who cares? The important thing is…Scott Prince is in a tutu. I LOVE HIM.

goldcoast.com.au

Gosh, he’s pretty.

EDIT – One of our lovely fans, Bel, has alerted me to yet another example of league awesomeness. I think this even out does Scotty in tulle.

Illawarra Mecury

AMAZING. What can one even say about this? It’s awesomness almost transcends words.

But if you’re wondering, yes that is Jason Ryles dressed as Dell. And Big Dell inexplicably dressed as an angel. Two things…a) apparently blackface is still an acceptable form of dress up in Australia and b) doesn’t Big Dell fill out those white jocks well?

Well that’s it kittens. The very last time I can write about the Dragons for 2008. Needless to say I am now very much on Team Manly for the rest of the finals. Team Manly and Team Anyone-that-isn’t-the-Storm.

(Screencaps thanks to Lozzy, naked John-John from Naked For a Cause)

WHEEEE! Tonight is Slumber Party Night at the Errol HQ.  Tomorrow at 9am Sassy + Kiki make their debut (as a duo) on the wireless. Yes kids, we totally have a one way ticket to ~*RADIO SUPERSTARDOM*~. And despite our arrogance confidence, we are a biiiiit nervy.

We need all the moral support we can get, so we have gathered the troops around the fire for a snugglefest. Errol snuggles are the best. We have just buttoned Work Experience Boy Lachie into his Superman onesie, Intern Brownie is melting cooking chocolate on the stove in preparation for our Brownie’s Special Hot Chocolates (extra marshmallows) and we finally convinced John-John to actually do up his terry towelling shorty robe. It’s a fetching shade of lavender with JJ embrodiered on the chest in gold thread. Really brings out his eyes.

But before we settle down for our High School Musical marathon we have to present the nominees for the Errol for Snuggliest Man in League. John-John brought his own selection of movies but well … let’s just say we have to save them for after Lachie’s bedtime. And he’s getting pretty sleepy, so lets get started.

Firstly, for the newbies who might be confused as to what a Snuggly Man is… let us revist our Polarfleece Award announcement -

There are all different types of attractiveness in this world. Men may not realise it, but ‘cute’ can mean a whole range of things. It’s possible to be intensely attracted to a man without immediately wanting him to put his penis in you. Yes really. When your first impulse is to take them to browse the soft furnishings section of Freedom, you have yourself a snuggly man.

JARRYD ‘BABY’ HAYNE

Do we really have to say anything?  Have you seen his face?  LOOK AT THAT FACE.  LOOK AT IT!

Who’s a pretty boy?  Are you a gorgeous boy?

If we really had to say anything, we’d say it’s a little bit the eyelashes, a little bit the dimples, and a little bit that he still has the teensiest bit of babyfat. Baby Hayne has footy player confidence mixed with an adorable vulnerability that makes us go SQUEEEE (as we did at Origin).  Nobody puts Baby in a corner.

ISSAC LUKE

pic: stuff.co.nz

Well first of all, we just love a man with Two First Names. And hair that resembles carefully designed topiary. We think it’s nice that he puts in that kind of effort. His cuteness defies mere words. Take one look at Issac’s precious little face. If you don’t immediately see why he deserves to be in this category then well … you should just give up on life. For realz.

SCOTT PRINCE (aka Prince Scotty The Caramel)

goldcoast.com.au

Ohhhh Scotty. How we love thee! His extreme preciousness is even more remarkable considering he’s a DIRTY QUEENSLANDER. BOOO! HISSSSS! Usually we love it when Queenslanders suffer horrific injuries during Origin, but when Scotty snapped his teeny caramel arm in half at Origin 3 our hearts broke into little pieces. Kiki had a broken arm at the same time and likes to think this synchronicity means her and Scotty are somehow cosmically connected. Sadly she broke her arm running across the street to a gay bar at 5am and not representing her state in front of 80,000 people. But some would say they are both heroes … and we have to agree.

Scotty inspires big snuggle times. He combines intense cuteness with a cheekiness that makes our hearts go boom boom. We especially adore his ManLove affair with Benji Marshall. So much so that Sassy made a beautiful/touching/really creepy tribute video. Pls watch it immediately k thanks.

smh.com.au

JASON ‘FLOSSY’ NIGHTINGALE

FLOOSSSSSY! We love love LOVE our Flossy. He gives us no feeling at all in our vajayjays, just in our hearts. Feelings of snuggles, flannelette PJs and non-sexual hair stroking.

We have christened him the labrador of rugby league. He embodies everything one loves about labs- enthusiasm, cuddliness and boundless energy. Not to mention the big dopey eyes and the shiny blonde hair. And you know if given the chance he would totally lick you on the face. AND YOU WOULD TOTALLY LET HIM.

BEN ‘HORNBAG’ HORNBY

Getty Images

I’m sure our regular readers are well aware of our Ben Hornby obsession. For the uninitiated, we here at Errol think our beloved Hornbag is vastly underrated…as a player and as a Cute Man.  Just because he’s pale like milk and his eyelashes/eyebrows/facial hair are invisible from a distance. I mean really. That is NO REASON to leave him out. Bastards!

Cuteness doesn’t only come in Daniel Conn shaped packages people. The Errol kiddies are all inclusive…we love everyone (except the Storm). The rangas, the fatties, the drunks and the under appreciated – WE LOVE YOU ALL!

There are two different types of Hornbag. Snuggly Hornbag and Despot Hornbag. Read about the intricate differences here. Obviously Snuggly Hornbag is the one in the running here.

Okay truthfully … we can’t really explain this one. WE JUST LOVE HIM OKAY? Don’t question us.

Needless to say there may be some tears in the judging room on the night before the Errols – this is a tough bitch of a category.  We invite all nominees to drop by the the Errol offices for a snuggle in the office beanbag to help us reach our decision. We promise to keep our hands to ourselves …. maybe.

So yeh, it’s Wednesday and I am only just now writing my weekend recap. People have been hassling my ass since Saturday night to write about the Dragons. CALM DOWN BITCHES! I know Errol is your crack but Aunty Kiki has got Things To Do. Like spending 20 minutes in the deli section at Woolworths trying to decide what sort of cheese to get (I went with Jarlsberg if you’re wondering) and watching Law and Order SVU repeats while I organise my nailpolish by season. Everyone knows you can’t rock black nails past August and I like to be prepared. OKAY?

Dad and I decided it was worth the trek to the Cavernous Shithole (aka ANZ Stadium) to watch our Dragons in action. Turned out to be totally worth it. What a cracker of a game! More a thrashing than a cracker but whatevs. My babies breathed fire and burnt those Eels to a crisp. Oh yeh!

Let’s break things down shall we?

1) I spent the entire game yelling things like GO HOT BITCH! And GOOD BOY FLOSSY! EXCELLENT WORK! People kept shooting me glares of death and confusion. It had me perplexed. Until I realised not everyone in the world reads Errol. Poor unfortunate souls, living their whole lives without Knowing our genius. I will not rest until I hear Rabs saying things like “and that’s a beautiful try from Hot Bitch Cooper”. Then Gus chimes in with “set up by a maaaagical offload from Flossy Nightingale”. WILL.NOT.REST.

2) The dackings. Oh, the dackings. Obviously my eyes are always a) on the ball and b) on the ass. I’m a woman, I can multitask. Theres alot of subtle arse crack flashing in league, but Saturday night was a deadset Assathon. ASSATHON O8! I said out loud OH THE GAYS ARE GONNA LOVE THIS, much to the distaste of the old men sitting next to me. There were four separate dackings. It must be a record. FOUR! Three to Josh Morris, one to Jarryd Hayne.

Dedicated journalists posess a great attention to detail. They go to painstaking efforts to bring you all the facts. No half assed (heheh assed) reporting for me. So with no further ado I bring to you, in an Errol exclusive, not one..not even three…but ALL FOUR dackings!

ONE

TWO

 THREE

 FOUR

Oh yeh, I’m gonna win a Walkley for this shit.

3) Now lets move from gratutious nudity to heart warming fuzziness. Kiddies, I shed an actual tear the other night. Let me make this clear, I am not a particularly emotional person. Well not for a girl. Everyone I know thinks I’m a man trapped in a womans body. Or as my best mate so eloquently put it “I love you because you’re like a guy….but with tits!”. Nice.

I have an aversion to public weeping but oh my god those Dragons bastards, they killed me. KILLED ME! First of all they bring out groups of tiny kids to sit on tiny tiny chairs while giant Dragons players read them books. Apparently the Dragons are involved in some sort of reading program. The sight of a hulking forward perched on a teeny little chair whilst animatedly reading a childrens book got me right in the ovaries.

THEN, in my softened up state, the bastards play a farewell montage dedicated to Brownie, Gaz, Ryles and McGregor. I’m talking slow-mo footage, sad music, the whole works. AND I CRIED. In public! I AM SO EMBARRASSED.

4) I’m not gonna lie, watching Big Dell score a hat trick was one of my Best Footy Moments to date. Another was when Michael Devere had a giant gash in his head put back together with a staple gun on the sideline during State of Origin. AMAZING. Everytime Dell even looked like getting the ball the crowd just lost their minds. Only Dell could create actual atmosphere inside that stadium.

abcnet.au

When he grabbed that intercept and scored in the middle of the posts I may or may not stood up and yelled GO YOU GOOD THING, pumped my fist and then knocked over my entire drink. It really is a mystery why I’m single. Such grace, such elegance.

Meanwhile my Dad has a total mancrush on Dell. He talked about him literally the entire game. Yeh yeh, I get it Dad…the man is an amazing athlete.

5) Speaking of mancrushes, I am sensing the formation of some serious Man Love within the Dragons. For years Hot Bitch Cooper and Gaz were the faux couple of the red and white. But things have changed. Gaz is leaving. Leaving his love behind. Since his announcement I’ve been truly worried about Hot Bitch and his obviously broken heart. Well I can worry no more!

In the middle of the game I get a text from Sassy saying “I think Hot Bitch is moving on. Look at the way he’s smiling at Dell. It’s LOVE Kiki!”.

And she’s right. It was a beautiful sight. I haven’t seen Hot Bitch smile like that in MONTHS. Coops doesn’t need you any more Gaz! All he needs is the Big Dell. Together they are side by side on the piano keyboard, living together in perfect haaaaarmony.

And oh the joys that Dell has ahead of him. Like a romantical evening on the harbour with an underweared Hot Bitch.

Cosmopolitan Magazine

I hope they don’t mind if I join them. And by ‘join them’ I mean putter along behind their cruiser in a tinny, looking through binoculars and yelling HOT BITCH PLEASE LIVE IN MY PANTS. It’s gonna be great.

(Assathon pics from the lovely Artie at FM forums and our fave blog)

I was supposed to go to this game. For once in my life I was home before 3am, wanting to get a good nights sleep before the drive down to the Gong. I drank a litre of water and ate some healthful vegemite toast. Okay that’s a lie. I made the cabbie take me through Maccas drive thru and I had two cheeseburgers, large fries and a giant coke before I fell asleep on the lounge watching the Crime Channel. But! HOME BEFORE 3AM PEOPLE! This is how much I love my Dragons.

I woke up the next day all bright eyed and bushy tailed and Ready To Go. No crippling hangover to weather! I felt so…. unnauseated. Is this what normal people feel like every weekend? Amazing. Just as I was deciding which Dragons merchandise to put on, my Dad announces he feels sick and we are no longer going. And yes I do go to the football with my father, don’t judge me…he buys the beers.

So, disappointed and a bit pissed off I wasted valuable early morning drinking hours, I settle in to watch the game. My my WIN Stadium looks pretty today. It’s Matt ‘Hot Bitch’ Cooper’s favourite stadium. True story! I’ve decided more footy stadiums need ocean views. It’s just so damn pretty. I am a scenery bandit, what can I say? I just love a beautiful vista!

The game kicks off and I am immediately grateful for Dad’s mysterious illness. THERE ARE SEAGULLS EVERYWHERE! ARRRRGH! FLAPPING THEIR GIANT WINGS OF FILTH! They aren’t of normal size. Or even birds. Those are freakin pterodactyls! I have a Serious bird phobia. It’s not one of those manufactured idiosyncrasies that lame people invent in an attempt to give themselves some sort of personality. Oh no. Everytime one flaps by I get shivers down my spine and scream bloody murder. Give me a snake any day.

When I was in Year 4 I was forced to work in the school aviary and I got BIRD LICE. Bird lice!! Who gets bird lice? It’s so…..ye olde times. Like I contracted it en route to Van Diemens Land as punishment for stealing a loaf of bread from Lord Dudley of Englishtown.Errr…where we we? The football? Right. First things first, seemingly at my request, Ben ‘Hornbag’ Hornby has finally relinquished his hair clippers of doom and let his hair grow to a normal length. Yes Hornbag YES! This is good! I also notice Stuart Webb has taken time out from his humiliating TV appearances to play in the number 9 jersey today.

9 minutes in, Fein punts a beautiful kick into the in goal which Big Dell easily cleans up. He is all over the high ball isn’t he? Brent Tate attempts to tackle Dell and ends up with an elbow of granite to the throat, temporarily crushing his windpipe. He lies on the ground rolling around attempting to breathe. My bloodlust gets the better of me and I stifle a laugh. Bet he’ll never try to tackle Dell like that again. AH-HAH!

League HQ

I notice Wade McKinnon looks quite fetching in his Ruben Wiki Tribute Beard. He was never attractive before, was he? Well he is now. The mysterious power of the beard! Everyone thought Our Davey Williams was a lone bearded nutter, but bitch knows whats up. The commentators discuss ‘the Warriors beard mystery’ and wonder what the deal is. UM. I THOUGHT EVERYONE KNEW. We have known for weeks! Silly boys. Too busy concentrating on insignificant things like rules and statistics to pay attention to the REALLY important things like players facial hair. GOD! Clearly they need us. Call me Gus?

Sandra Mu/ Getty Images

Apparently Wade’s beard has migrated to other parts of his body, forming some sort of hair suit. I think I like it.

Rabs announces Jerome Ropati ‘goes in and nails his man’ and I giggle. Hehehe…nails his man. It’s funny coz it’s homoerotic. The crowd roars every time Big Dell gets the ball. The man is a bulldozer on legs! Dozin the bulls! Solomana is nothing but a speedbump. Aaaah I love watching Dell play. After much pestering from me, Intern Brownie finally let him play two weeks in a row. SEE BROWNIE! I TOLD YOU HE WAS AWESOME!

The Dragons attack is looking confident. Lots of short sharp passing. I like this boys. Their confidence pays off when Hot Bitch steams through and scores an awesome try in the 18th minute. Set up by Hornbag, scored by Hot Bitch! My babies! I rub my eyes in disbelief…is that Hot Bitch smiling? EMOTING? He seems different. Cocky even. I check with my pants and they approve of this new development. Gus seems to have developed a bit of a crush too. He describes him as a ‘big powerful man’ and announces that Coops should watch video of that try every night before he goes to sleep.

What a coincidence! I too watch videos of Hot Bitch Cooper every night before I ‘go to bed’. I have a whole collection in fact. My favourite is ‘Wet, Dirty and In White – Volume 3′. It’s a classic.

Gaz easily converts the try. It’s 6-0.

The commentators crack my shit up by discussing the heinousness of Brent Tate’s pitiful ginger beard. Rabs moans something like ‘ooooh those metres taste gooood’. That’s pervy right? It’s not just me? Okay…maybe it’s just me. The Dragons attacking brilliance continues and Joshie Morris scores a cracker of a try. I rejoice then cry silent tears. DON’T LEAVE US JOSHIE! My heart can’t take losing one of my twinnies. I won’t stand for it. Next year I am going to sneak into dogs territory, kidnap Josh and bring him back home to the Dragons. Plus it will give me an excuse to wear that fierce cat burglar outfit I’ve been saving. Sweet.

Rabs informs us it’s Josh’s birthday today. AND! He then helpfully announces its his identical twin Brett’s birthday too. AMAZING! Twins sharing a birthday, what’s next? Me pashing inappropriate people? Oh Rabs, I could not love you more. Gaz misses the conversion. It’s 10 nil.

I notice Logan Swann has one of the greatest names in rugby league. It’s so delightfully soap star. I can imagine him heroically rescuing me from a warehouse fire only to be poisoned into a coma by his meglomaniac uncle (who is also secretly his father). He is now in direct competition with Beau Champion and Ray Cashmere in the names-to-envy stakes.

26 minutes and the Warriors go in for a try via a Ropira offload to a speedy McKinnon. Witt’s conversion is successful. 33 minutes and Hot Bitch goes in for another try. WOOOO! He smiles…again. Twice in one game. This in unheard of.

My joy quickly turns into rage when I realise Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale is lying prone on the ground thanks to a nasty (and unecessary) shoulder from McKinnon. My heart leaps out of my chest. THAT BASTARD! No one hurts my Flossy! I take back all the nice things I said about you Wade. Also, maybe if you were concentrating on making a proper tackle and not just hurting someone you woulda you know….saved the try. I like Flossy at fullback. He returns the ball from kicks with such enthusiasm. Like a labrador playing fetch in someones backyard. It’s bloody adorable.

League HQ

Gaz converts. We go halftime at 16-6.

My phone rings. It’s a video call from newly minted Intern John-John Williams! He tells me he is still so!excited! about his promotion from work experience boy to intern. The paper captain hat has been on for two days now. Baby is so thrilled about his new workplace opportunities that he serenades me Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5. I love it when John-John does half time entertainment.

Annnnnd we’re back!

Nothing of much note happens until Dean Young goes in for a try at the 56th minute. Go Youngy! I am not an arse connoisseur, but The Gays tell me Dean Young has ‘the perfect arse’. Let’s examine this claim further.

Okay yes, that is pretty damn nice. Good for you Dean…a try AND a great arse. What more could a boy want? Gaz converts. Damn he is having a good game today. It galls me. I kinda wish he was all useless and crap so I could feel okay about him leaving. SIGGGH.

At some point Hot Bitch Cooper goes down with an apparent groin injury. Rabs announces it’s definitely the groin because ‘lets just say he didn’t let the trainer rub it’. OH GOD THIS IS TOO EASY. I don’t even have to make the joke. I will however say that this is yet another reason why female trainers are needed. I nominate myself. Obviously for the pervy groin rubbing reasons, but also because I am good with blood, injuries and grossness. As long as they don’t vomit. Then they’re on their own.

Someone called Matalina lands an absolutely massive hit on my Hornbag. For the second time today my heart leaps out of my chest. NOT MY HORNBAG! As usual, Benny gets right back up. No milking penalties for my boy. He might look innocuous but bitch is tough as nails.

66 minutes, Gaz pulls off a brilliant offload and sends Joshie Morris in for his second try. Successful conversion, its 22-6. The Warriors try alot of things but nothing seems to stick. 72 minutes and Gaz further annoys me with his awesomeness by passing a freakish flick pass to a flying Flossy, who scores easily under the posts. Complete with a full (and unecessary) commando roll accessorised by a giant goofy smile. Aaaah he really is labrador. Can’t you just imagine him wearing a jaunty red bandanna?

Gaz converts and its 34-6. Bloody Gasnier and his magic. I shake my fist at the TV.

As the game winds down Big Dell gives us yet another reason to adore him. After running across field to assist his team mates in mongreling a Warrior into touch he bends down to help him up. AAAH! Only in rugby league. Gus announces it’s stuff like this that makes it a ‘great game’. And that we will survive no matter what. Sing it Gloria!

Right. So as much as I love ignoring people and doing whatever the hell I want, there comes a time when every blogger/visionary must appease her readers/lowly subjects. It appears some of our male readers feel a tad uncomfortable with the amount of hot man-flesh on display here at Errol. The occasional complaints have now risen to a deafening roar of OMG MY BOSS THINKS I’M A HOMO NOW and KIKI! TOO MUCH MATT COOPER IN HIS UNDIES!

First of all there is no such thing as too much Hot Bitch Cooper in his undies. That’s like saying ‘please! no more orgasms!’. Secondly, what the hell are you all doing reading us at work? You should be ashamed of yourselves! We here at Errol do not stand for blatant time wasting in our office. We are nothing if not industrious.

Being a decidedly laissez-faire workplace, we briefly trialled unlimited internet usage for our employees. Needless to say it didn’t end well. Intern Greg Bird ignored his pile of work and spent hours buying ladies Chanel sunglasses on Ebay and Intern Brownie wasted an entire week investigating black market scalp transplants. Worst of all, thanks to Google, work experience boy John-John Williams discovered that nudist resorts exist in Australia. Then spent our entire Christmas party fund booking us all in for a holiday. WITHOUT OUR CONSENT. Unmitigated disaster!

Obviously, we now monitor our boys very closely.

I would like to point out that a) there has never been complete man-nudity and b) I think most of you are using the ‘someone will think I’m gay’ excuse when really it’s just because Hot Bitch’s perfectly sculpted abs make you feel bad about yourselves. BUT because I love you all, I am prepared to compromise. Never will I stop e-objectifying footy players (NEEEVVVVEEER!) but from now on whenever I post a bit of skin, this graphic will appear.

Now onto the footy.

Confirming the worst kept secret of the year, Darius Boyd has finally  announced his move to my beloved Dragons. I can’t believe the Dragons even bothered with a press release when everyone already knew of the signing. Waste of paper! Enviromental vandalism! I don’t quite know how I feel about Boyd yet. I feel like a stranger is moving into my house. I mean really, who IS this man? Will we be compatible? How does he feel about low fat milk and chore rosters? What incarnation of Law and Order does he prefer? I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIM!

Actually, scratch that. I now know he’s a briefs man.

Good to know.

In other Dragons news, Big Dell made yet another return to first grade on Friday night. What is that now…three returns? Are they still classified as returns? It’s so confusing. Clearly he should just be there every single week. Why? Partly because of his newly grown fu-manchu moustache. But mostly because have you ever seen anyone this pumped to score a try?

Amazing.

I wish I had time for more blogging, but alas I have to depart. We are off to the Steve Menzies Tribute Dinner tomorrow night and preparations are in full swing. Intern Brownie is hemming my dress and I need to be in it. As usual John-John is of absolutely no help. He keeps running around yelling YEEEHA! SAVE A HORSE…RIDE A COWBOY! He just loves Rodeo Wednesday.

(Naked John thanks to artie at FM Forums and Naked for a Cause. Big Dell from the amazing Getty Images)

I have officially watched Too Much Footy this weekend. And it’s only Sunday. Good God. So there is pretty much no chance of me writing a coherent play-by-play recap of anything I’ve watched. My little pea brain just can’t hold that much information, you know?

I have just enough room for exactly one full 80 minutes of memory, and after that for everything that goes in something has to get the boot, and I’m just left with a memory trail that goes something like CASHMERE! … jerseys, scrum, hot bitch … THAT WAS A KNOCK ON! Which is totally normal brain function, right? I thought so.

Remember that time I took a home wine-making course and forgot how to drive?

 

Not the face!

There was love, there was lust, there were heroes, there was tragedy.

The game started with a whole set of lingering close ups of David ‘Ned Kelly’ Williams. Either channel nine has been reading Errol and decided to give the punters what they want, or they have hired a new homo cameraman with excellent taste. Either way, I approve.

I’m not so keen on the commentary that goes with it though, because Matty Johns quite clearly is seriously in manlust with ‘The Wolfman’ and it makes me slightly uncomfortable. He makes this blog look chaste and reserved by comparison. SHOOSH ALREADY MATTY! Just be quiet please and go back to making your collage of ‘things that remind you of David Williams’. Make sure you include that bamboo placemat you found at Freedom last week. Mmmmm smells like beard.

I am also so impressed that Ned Kelly is now completely committed to the beard. Wanna know how I know? He’s shaved around the neck. That’s right. It’s not a joke anymore, kids. It’s a Trademark (TM). (If you’re wondering he was also having an excellent hair day. Great definition in the curl. Have you started using product, Mr. Williams?)

In other vitally important football hair news, it seems Steve Matai now has cornrows. Really, Matai? Cornrows? I don’t know what to say. What I do know is that it’s not 1995 and you’re not in Bali. Think about THAT.

When he walked on field Ray Warren actually commented on the ‘”rows of corn” Matai is sporting’ and I think that if Rabs knows what the word ‘cornrows’ means, then cornrows are no longer cool.

QED. Full marks for me.

I actually think Gus Gould and Rabs as a duo have gotten even crazier in the last seven days. I didn’t think it was possible. I like it. I can’t decide whether I loved it more when they quarrelled about how much Rabs loves Steve Matai (Gus: And your man Matai tries to convert … Rabs: He is not MY MAN MATAI. I do not OWN Steve Matai), or quarrelled about the age at which they stop giving players oranges at halftime.

Rabs: Do you WANT oranges? Hmmm? Because I will go and GET you some navals.

I can’t wait till they allow gay marriage in Australia and those two can officially settle down. It’s never too late for love, boys!

The game also proved that cornrows do not constitute a form of head protection when Cornrows Matai and teammate Luke Williamson pushed in for a try on Luke Lewis. In the process Matai and Lewis butted heads and the results were not pretty. Williamson ended up in the middle of a creepy, blood-soaked NRL tableau, with collapsed Matai on his left hip, and bleeding Luke Lewis lying to his right with his head cradled in Williamson’s knee like a unicorn being tamed by a virgin.

I’m not going to lie, it was weird. Poor little Williamson, sitting bolt upright in between two bleeders, kinda gingerly patting Luke Lewis’ hair and making an awkward face that says HE’S NOT EVEN REALLY ON MY TEAM. DO I HAVE TO BE NICE TO HIM? YOU GUYS?

And then more tragedy … Steve Matai sort of made me like him. Even with the cornrows! Don’t you dare tell anyone. Once they patched up his bleeding skull, put a headgear in his hand, and send him back to the sideline, that crafty bitch won me right over with his vanity. He stood there in limbo for aaages, half putting the headgear on and laughing with embarassment.

I CAN’T GO OUT THERE IN THIS THING. THERE ARE CAMERAS! PEOPLE WILL LAUGH!

.. and then he didn’t. Seriously, that was it. We didn’t see him for the rest of the match. Matai had a tanty and refused to go back on looking ridiculous and left David Williams to take over the goal kicking with his patented brand of talking-to-himself crazy before every goal.

Note to the video ref in this match: I can’t BELIEVE you went ref’s call on that Brett Stewart try. At the very least you could have given him Benefit of the Doubt. I mean, dammit, the kid has DIABETES. Is there not some kind of BENEFIT OF DIABETES try rule??

And, lastly, saddest of all: Menzies. Oh, Menzies. Still brilliant with the ball. A fearless statesman of league, a vision in headgear. But, like Penrith’s own Danny Glover – Rhys Wesser – Menzies’ legs ain’t what they used to be. When he broke down the right hand side with a clear 70 metres between him and the try line, there was no cry from the commentary box of ‘JUGGERNAUT’. There were forty great metres, then an offload and a tackle. It makes me sad. I think it made him sad too. It seems relentless time has worn upon the demi-God of football as it wears upon us mortals. Manly won 30-10, but it still feels like the end of an era.

God damn was this a depressing game. Melbourne won. The Titans were ground up like tiny sad little peppercorns. No one was surprised. Cameron Smith apparently shaved but still had a grey beardshadow. Now he is a wolfman. Israel Folau did amazing things and is still a Mormon. Matt Geyer is still bald. The Titans (even the ones who aren’t injured) are still totally sick of life. Scott Prince was petrified with cold on the sidelines like one of those caveman corpses they recover from glaciers. I seriously think his hands might have been fused together with frostbite.

I can’t even talk about it anymore. 44-4.

Cronulla Sharks vs St George Illawarra Dragons – The Battle of Captain Cook Drive

Now this game was Real Football. It was intense. Like grabbing-someone’s-arm, have-to-see-how-it-ends football. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Matt Cooper look so intense. At the end of the game he even made an emotion. In his face and everything!

Pie-eating Greg Bird was so focussed in his return game that he didn’t cry once. Hornbag was possibly the angriest I’ve ever seen him. I checked with my pants and they agree.

It was also alllll yours St George, but towards the end I think you lost focus, and the Sharks didn’t. I’m sorry boys, but it’s true. I definitely don’t think they have more heart, but I think they showed more on the field. I will say though that this was a war of attrition, and you Dragons boys took it really hard.

Brett Morris was taken off with an injured shoulder. Justin Poore with a dislocated knee. I felt like there needed to be a halftime armistice for you to gather up the fallen before the battle began again. There’s something that toubles me about you Dragons though, and it needs to be said: the head-shaving. Please explain. If I was extending the war metaphor I would say that, as armies go, you look more like an Aryan Brotherhood militia than anything else. Is this your doing, Hornbag? Do you want everyone to look neat and practical like you?

Even Dan Hunt and Justin Poore were sporting newly shaven cue balls last night. Not to mention you Hornbag, Matt Cooper, Jamie Soward, Dean Young and at least one Morris twin (with the other twin’s hair also getting progressively shorter). Or wait a second – IS THIS BROWNIE’S DOING? Does Intern Brownie shave all your heads before each game so you all match his hairdo? I am absolutely appalled Brownie. Did you even think about me and how much I love a good head of hair? Hmmmm? I am shocked by your selfishness.

You Dragons have a long way too go before you look as military as Luke Covell though. He is tres jarhead. The hair, the American jaw, the glassy quality in his eyes. (Which is also why I’m not keen to say a word against him. Well done on your win, scary Luke Covell! Please don’t finish me off with friendly fire!)

Oh yeah, Flossy Nightingale also got dakked. Big time. I only like clothes- on- Flossy, but Kiki DEMANDED we post the photos, because and I quote ‘thats what the punters expect from Errol Sassy….bare arse.’

South Sydney Rabbitohs vs New Zealand Warriors – The *****

Okay FINE I didn’t really watch this. Don’t judge me. I’m not even going to pretend that I care. The Rabbitohs won.

PS Hi Russell Crowe!

Sydney Roosters vs North Queensland Cowboys – THOSE BOYS NEED THERAPY

Do you know what this game was full of? (Apart from the Roosters being distracted and making me worry about whether they are psychologically prepared for the focus and discipline required to win consistently in a professional sport).

It was full of my favourite rule. I’ve said in the past how much I love Benefit of the Doubt, and yes I still love you Benny. You are very sweet and very supportive. But this new rule? Well, it just makes me laugh. And that’s so very important in a relationship.

If you don’t follow league you won’t know that packing a scrum when one is called stops the clock. So a team that’s despy for more time will, as soon as the ref calls for a scrum, sprint to the location, and DIVE into one as fast as is humanly possible. Except because the other team doesn’t give a shit, it’s just five men with their heads between each other’s arses standing in a triangle packing a scrum against thin air. It is HILARIOUS. I adore it. More of that please! And if you want more people to watch rugby league, you could liven it up a bit. Maybe give them extra points if they can manage to make a pyramid? I’d pay to watch that.

This game was amazing in that it also managed to distract me from the hotness that is JohnJohn Williams. (Note to John – I see you shaved off the beard! Thank God! I’m so glad you read Errol and listen to our suggestions).

Because out of nowhere my Chooks have suddenly become the whoriest team in the league. When did this happen? I have no idea. Those uniforms were not regulation, I’ll tell you now. They were twice as tight around the guns, a good 5 cm shorter in the shorts, and I love it. GOOD WORK ROOSTERS DESIGN TEAM.

My personal highlight was when the Mayan King Soliola actually rolled up his sleeves for most of the first half. Weren’t they whorey enough for you, baby? Wanted to flash a little more bicep? My only regret is that I can’t find a picture anywhere on the internets of Brent Grose in his painted-on jersey. Bitch did not get that in the adult section of the Roosters store, that is for sure. It was an XS outfit on an M man. I don’t think he could even lift his arms. Which would also explain a bomb he missed, now I think of it.

Luke O’Donnell tried so hard, but just couldn’t compete for attention. Not even with a midriff-flash. And despite the Rooster’s strange success complex that means they can’t play well unless they’re underdogs, they managed to win the game. Or rather, not lose it. I think it was the shorty-shorts. Helps em run faster. Makes em feel pretty, too.

And to finish I would like to point out that since Sonny Bill fled the country, I think Willie Mason has finally realised they’re never getting back together, and moved on and found someone else. And do you know what? GOOD FOR YOU BB. It’s healthy! I know you loved him, but you can’t pine forever.  I think it’s lovely.

We should have known that the dramaz from Monday night’s Storm vs Dragons game weren’t going anywhere. But usually we’re the ones responsible for the rage and the profanity in our office. We were not expecting Intern Brownie to get on the Dragons video site and lose his shit. We never let him out! he must have snuck out his window while we were having our afternoon naps. And by ‘having our afternoon naps’ I mean ‘lying passed out on the lounge from our lunchtime woines’. He’s tricksy that Brownie.

But lose his shit he did. Bitch was PISSED.

Usually he’s so benevolent and snuggly. The kind of man who’s problem as a coach is that the players aren’t scared of him.  I can’t help but think that being around us every day has made him a cranky bitch. And I for one like it. Go Brownie go! An intern in my own image! We could not be prouder if he was our own kid.

And do you know what? Brownie was right on the money. Maybe our smarts are catching too?

It’s not Melbourne’s fault … the storm have got all the tricks, they grab pressure points. They tell you they don’t practice, they do. They’ve even got a new one where they rub their shin on your achilles, which is very painful.

We went down there to give a little bit back and basically Jamie Soward got grappled, and he got put in the sin bin. I don’t have a problem with the storm play, what I have a problem with is the officials saying they’re gonna cut it out of the game and they don’t.

Tell you what I do not approve of though: I hate when anyone tries to play the sympathy game with me. Oh, but wait. Brownie, do you want to clarify what I mean?

They accused Jason Nightingale of headbutting … he headbutted Billy Slater’s fists. The only thing Jason Nightingale did wrong is he didn’t headbutt him hard enough as far as I’m concerned.

If you’re gonna beat them that’s what you’ve got to do, because they play within the rules that the officials allow them to play in.

 

Brownie’s being serious. Billy Slater pleaded innocence because Nightingale head-butted him. But I saw no heabutts, and Foxtel IQ does not lie. Oh, Billy. Maybe it was someone else? But I definitely say it wasn’t little Flossy. I don’t like this at all! And we were getting along so well.

The truth is when you ran in and defended Cooper Cronk on the field with your arms a-swinging I was all over it. I love league violence! And when the ref sin-binned you and you smiled as you ran-off field, I almost giggled a little. Truly, I did.But then you go and ruin it by being sooky in front of the judiciary. Unacceptable!

I also have decided I do not approve of the heinous Melbourne Storm fans (except Hazy of course, love). I am all for new rugby league fans, but sometimes when you go and watch rugby league, it helps if … you know, you know the rules? Not all of them, mind you (I certainly don’t), but just the easy ones.

Like that tackling is allowed, and you don’t boo Every Single Time someone tackles a Storm player. Or that cowbells are never, ever acceptable. Or even that it is not ordained by God that your team should always win. Eventually, like every other team has at some point, your team will suck. So be nice to other fans. Hopefully then they will be nice to you if Israel Folau gets sent on his Mormon mission, or Greg Inglis is poached to union, or Storm Man falls off his quad bike.

I am, however, all for Brownie’s plan to solve this problem with more violence.  Violence solves everything!  My mama taught me that.

Sadly my dreams of extreme rugby league bloodsports were crushed when my other most-loved league coach Brad Fittler announced he is not down with the wrestlemania play At All.

“I think this style of game is pretty crap”.

But … but, Brownie said I could! He did! I swear! Braaaaaaaad, can’t I watch people have their arms ripped off?

Freddy never lets me do ANYTHING.

So as I said previously, I am not going to recap this game. However, too much awesome dramaaaz occured for me to ignore it completely.

First of all, let us talk about my boys sporting a pink V. Oh, they looked so LOVELY. Just lovely. The pink V has magical powers because one look at Gasnier in his and the palpable rage I feel for him quickly dissipated.

I did however notice he was a total man island in the changeroom. Everyone was totally ignoring him, even his former husband Hot Bitch Cooper. THEY BE PISSED AT YOU GAZ. By the way, Hornbag is totally Unimpressed by your contributions to the proceedings.

Now lets talk about Hot Bitch in his pink V. Ooooooh mama. On anyone else, pink seems to subdue masculinity, softening it into something benevolent and approachable. Not our Hot Bitch. The juxtaposition of pink on a man stallion of Cooper’s calibre was something quite remarkable. The pink somehow managed to make him seem more virile. I didn’t know that was even possible, but it is. He prowled that field like a lion in the savannah. All rippling muscles, manly potency and carefully controlled aggression. Lets not even talk about when it STARTED TO RAIN. It made my pink V really really happy. See what I did there? Made a dirty joke! Because Pink V is a metaphor for vagina. GET IT?

Okay lets talk about Mick Crocker. Forget headgear, the man needs to invest in a helmet for game days. He is way beyond modern aerodynamic cycling helmets. Mick has suffered so many brain injuries he needs help from the 1980s. Bitch needs a Stack Hat.

While we are talking about Crocker’s head, lets discuss what in Gods name is up with his hair. There is alot of balding men in the NRL, but Crocker doesn’t fit easily into that category. I don’t even think he’s balding. This is an entire new strain of hair weirdness. I have never seen hair like his on another man. Ever ever ever. Let us carefully and professionally examine this oddity -

There is only one conclusion. He suffers from chronic hair thinness and has sought to rectify the situation by using hair in a can. Thankyou Jerome Russell! Sorry Mick baby, but you’re gonna have to surrender your hair to airport security when you leave for England in 09. You know full well aerosols aren’t permitted on international flights.

Ryles getting sent off. Oh dear, Gavin Badger…you really are a twat of epic proportions aren’t you? Referee boss Robert Finch has already come out and said you were wrong, so lucky for you I am going to skip chastising you for now. Thank your lucky stars because I was totally gonna hurt you with my words of poison. Poison words!

Okay, so onto the fight. FIIIIIIIGGGGHT! I love fights. I love how quickly a civilised, professional game of rugby league can descend into mob violence. It makes me happy in my soul. And last nite was an absolute doozy. This shit was Origin worthy. It even had stages, three of them. The whole thing still seems surreal to me. Out of all the people to be involved in biff I cannot believe that it involved Tiny Dancer Soward, Flossy Nightingale and Billy I-Love-Pony-Club Slater. REALLY? You guys? REALLLY??

The best thing about this fight was the fact that PonyClub Slater rushed in from across the field to defend his boyfriend Cooper Cronk. Ain’t nobody be messin with my maaaans! (In my mind he’s a ghettofied black woman). Yes Billy, god forbid the tiny tiny Jamie Soward object to your boyfriend being a dirty little niggler. OH NOES!

You know Billy spent the whole time in the sin bin filing his ghetto nails and combing his fierce weave. Trust.

The second best thing about this dramaz is the way Hot Bitch Cooper stepped in and tried to break it up. Oh, that Coops, hes so measured in his responses. No flying off the handle for this perfect specicmen of a man. Oh no. Together with Hornbag he calmly and steadily grabbed players and steered them away from the fracas. And they obeyed him. Who wouldn’t?

My league loving friend Alex (hi boofhead!) sent me a text saying something like “look at Cooper breaking up the fight. He has such….presence”. Yeh, thats totally straight man code for I WOULD BEND OVER FOR MATT COOPER. It’s okay Alex, we all would.

(The magnificence above is thanks to our new account at Getty Images. I don’t want even want to say how much we paid for it. Lets just say when I turn it into a doona cover it will be totally worth it.)

THAT’S RIGHT GASNIER. YOU’RE OFFLOADING A BAGUETTE. DON’T MESS WITH ME BITCH! I AM HILARIOUS.

Right, so….obviously I have Alot of Feelings regarding le drame de Gasnier. Mostly angry ones. I think. God, I don’t even know anymore. Thing is, I’ve been trying to write this post for the past few days but keep changing my mind about how I feel. Monsieur Gasnier has deadset turned me bipolar. Now he’s flush with euros he better be paying my therapy bills or I’m gonna be putting my suing pants on ASAP.

When it first came out that Gaz might be going to France, I was utterly devastated. I’m not gonna lie, I may have cried an actual tear. Don’t judge me you assholes. It’s just that I have always adored him, even during the whole sauce squirting scandal. I mean come on who hasn’t drunkenly left a sexually explicit message on an acquaintances voicemail? I do it at least 3.5 times a year.

I even have a Gasnier doll (or ‘action figure’…whatever, its a doll) that I enjoy posing in homoerotic positions with my Captain Jack Harkness doll on my kitchen bench.

But sadly for Gaz + Jack, things have changed. They can’t be a hot plastic couple any more. You see, I can no longer bear to look at plastic Gaz so he has been unceremoniously removed. Banished, if you will. Did you even THINK of Captain Jack when you decided to leave league Gaz? HMMM?? So selfish, so completely and utterly SELFISH.

Okay, lets be Serious for a minute. After much emotional turmoil I have finally accepted that Gasnier is leaving the Dragons. I am okay with that. I understand he likes money and he wasn’t getting enough of it. He got ripped off, it was unfair and he has every right to look elsewhere for a better deal. That’s the rational conclusion and everyone who thinks otherwise is histronic and spiteful right? I dunno.

Alot of people have been accused of being overly emotional in their reactions towards this saga. These are fans, Dragons and non Dragons fans alike who feel cheated, betrayed and frankly really pissed off. And you know what? I totally get that.

Fact is, no matter how much we wanna put our Logical Business Hats on, when it comes down to it rugby league IS emotional. All sport is. If not for emotion, then why do we watch? Why do we tune in every week? What else to gain but emotions….happiness, elation, sorrow and frustration. Some fans wear a cloak of jaded cynicism and who-gives-a-shitness but fact is, deep down we ALL give a shit. Quite frankly, Gasnier leaving our game hurts like a motherfucker.

There are alot of issues that have beeen brought to the surface thanks to the Gaz drama. I’m not going to examine them because I highly doubt people visit Errol for in depth league analysis. Suffice to say there is a hell of alot wrong with the NRL, and shit needs to be fixed immediately before we die a slow horrible death.

I have to say though, although I bear Gasnier no ill will…I simply cannot believe they have made him captain for the rest of the year. It defies comprehension. The boys had played smoothly and victoriously without him for 7 weeks, he comes back last week and they lose their shit. Hot Bitch Cooper barely emotes (at least in public) but my god last Sunday he was PISSED. He literally radiated rage. You can’t tell me Gaz’s return and Hot Bitch’s hostility aren’t somehow related.

And look at Brett in that photo…could he look LESS concerned about his captain? Photos dont lie babies!

Also, the Tazos thing? REALLY?? People already wanna punch you in the face and you go and say this Gaz??

“….but is it fair when it comes to stuff like footy cards? I’m happy to say those Tazo cards for instance, I’d love to know their sales – we get $1000. Is that fair?

“Not attacking the [Daily]Telegraph, but I’d like to know what you guys made off them footy cards that you buy two bucks a pack with the thing. Do the players get any of that? No. Little things…”

Oh honey no, just no. Are you sharing a publicist with Sonny Bill Feelings now or something? Bad bad BAD.

The only thing more tragic than a talent like Gasnier not only leaving my club, but the game I love is the fact the Morris twins are going to be separated. This absolutely breaks my heart. I adore my twinsies, their cuteness makes my ovaries twinge. Separately they are great players, but together they are magical. We have already seen a few amazing twintastic tries this year, one could imagine thats just the beginning for those two.

Well, it would have been if Gasnier had have made his mind up earlier. Sadly, Joshie is off to the Dogs. Separated from his twin, his home and his beloved club. Obviously we can’t blame Gaz entirely, but there is definitely a causal link.

This isn’t just me being a drama queen either, the twins father (and Dragons legend) today admitted to being totally torn up over the situation.

“I’m so disappointed,” Morris said. “I’ve been disappointed for three months that they’ve let him go. I’m absolutely shattered. The poor kid had no alternative.

“After he signed on [with the Bulldogs], I was in tears the first game he played, against the Roosters … It’s a real shame. They lost a centre and they’re going to have to buy another centre next year. If they’d known what was going on, I’m sure they wouldn’t have let him go.”

GAZ MADE SLIPPERY CRY. NO ONE MAKES SLIPPERY CRY! I’ll cut you good Gasnier!

The only brightspot in this festival of sad is that the twins can stay together on some level. As our readers know, I have nicknamed my boosies ‘The Morris Twins’. So while the twins may no longer be together on the field, they will always be together in my bra. Sleep tight kids.