sassy’s grand final wrap-up: only one errol can win

October 5th, 2010

I won’t lie, there was a point – about 15 minutes into the second half of the grand final – where I cried. Not snotty Marley and Me-type crying. It was more a general Brett Morris-esque welling. I promised Kiki before the game that I wouldn’t weep, and I was determined to keep my promise. I’m nothing if not really petty and really stubborn.


By that point, all was lost and I knew it and it was heartbreaking. More than once I wished I was watching the game at home so at least I’d be able to listen to Rabs Warren commentate. His voice is just really comforting, and boy did I need comfort. Then Flossy Nightingale scored his second try and I got beer all done the back of my 2009 wooden-spoon jersey from over-excited Dragons fans and the sheer cold shock of being covered in mid-strength beer (they were fresh ones) snapped me back from the crying abyss.

So here’s how the game went down from our seats in the stratosphere.

The view from our seats: I should’ve known this was a bad omen.

SO MANY DRAGONS FANS. Those bitches was everywhere! And who was surprised? After last year, they had to Believe. Their team just had to transfer their skills into the finals series. On the other hand, as a Roosters fan, there’s a reason I didn’t have tickets: Because I’m not insane. I’m only that much of an optimist when I’m drunk or take a knock to the head.

I was expecting maybe … seventh or eighth for my boys. Knocked out first or second round of the finals at best. You know, something respectable, but not excessive. Something to inspire them to keep going for next year. Little did I know that Brian Smith – teeny tiny Smithy of the soothing voice and the dry, dry jokes – was a Rooster-whisperer and my team would start pulling Tigers-2005-style wins off as the season went on. It was like coming out of a hellish breakup (also knownas 2009) fat, acne-covered and depressed, and all of a sudden realising you’ve met the most perfect guy EVER. I was shocked and amazed and delighted.

Is it sad that I’m comparing my footy team to a boyfriend? Probably. But considering I spend Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday nights with football, it’s pretty accurate.

In the end, it turned out the 2010 Roosters/my new boyfriend weren’t going to have the whole fairytale package. They lost the grand final/he snores … but whatever. They made me happy, and I’m proud. And here’s why I think my babies couldn’t pull it off and Kiki’s dragons could.

GRAND FINALS NEED GRAND FINAL PERFORMANCES. I’m looking at you, Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale. The Dragons left-side is always their go-to attack side (shout out to Brett Morris for making the Kangaroos side again!) but with Gasnier back they started moving the ball to Flossy on the right wing, and the Roosters were too tired/demoralised to keep him out. Flossy you little gun! We always believed in you! It totally helped that he wore his lucky boots: those black ones that make it look like he’s a little kid who forgot his boots and had to play in school shoes. Maybe he could get sponsored by Clarks?

Truthfully, we thought he’d take the Churchill medal, but it turns out Joyce still really loves fullbacks (remember her lolz quotes about Billy Slater?), and I’m pretty sure Flossy doesn’t give a shit anyway cause he’s a grand final-winner.

Instead, we got to see Darius Boyd give one of the most unintentionally nerdy speeches ever when he accepted the Clive Churchill. It started with him standing around awkwardly and yelling ‘WOOO!’ and ended with him saying “now let’s go party!” like an American frat boy. Oh, Darius. It was an appropriate speech to hear when the Whitest Team in the NRL had just won a grand final.

Darius bringin cool back to the locker room whut whut

(For the record, not saying they’re white supremacists n stuff, just that they’re literally WHITE. B.Moz, Hornbag, Benny Creagh, you see where I’m going. There’s a lot of milk in the Dragons fridge and not much coffee).

WHAT’S THAT WAYNE BENNETT QUOTE ABOUT A CHAMPION TEAM NOT A TEAM OF CHAMPIONS? Cause yeah … that. I thought Floss was the best on the field and the most improved on the field but I wouldn’t fault any of the others, bar a few rain-related mistakes. Dean Young killed it. Jeremy Smith killed it, while looking like even more of a complete babe than usual.

Exhibit A. Dean Young congratulates Jeremy Smith on winning a non-tainted premiership and being a dirty spunk.

Weyman killed it, while he was on the field. Which reminds me, I refuse to believe Daniel Conn came in with a swinging arm until I see it. I also plan to never watch the replay, so Daniel Conn is innocent. The end. QED.

And lastly, TWO HOOKERS ARE BETTER THAN ONE. At least that’s what Charlie Sheen says. Boom tish! With the beauty of hindsight, 80 minutes of Jake Friend was no match for Dean Young and Nathan Fien. They were too sharp and speedy and his defence got too soft. Sad but true. I wouldn’t say any of my boys had shockers. They just didn’t bring the spark: they were a six when – at times this year – they’ve been a nine. Two words: next year.


Wanna know WHAT WE DID?

The UDL really brings out Yassy’s classy side.

Through a massive stroke of luck, we had tickets to the game, and the always fabulous Yasmin came with us, even though her two favourite players Moonie Vanoodie and Jarrod Yee-Hah weren’t playing. It probably helped that she has dirty crushes on Todd Carney and Ben Creagh, though. She sat between us, and even let me lay my head on her shoulder in despair in the second half. Usually she doesn’t much care for being touched, so thank you Yas!

After the game, while the Indian Roosters fan in front of us openly wept and was consoled by his girlfriend, we decided the best way to celebrate Kiki’s win, drown my sorrows and avoid train queues was to head to the Olympic Park pub and drink UDLs and dance to a covers band. Nothing cures sadness like dancing to Footloose and some comforting hugs from random Roosters fans and kindly Dragons while Kiki can-can dances around the pub. The general theme of the night from Drags fans was: BUT YOU GUYS DID SO WELL THIS YEAR! CONGRATULATIONS!

Kiki’s Grand Final headpiece (she made it herself!) both entertained and confused drunk people.

Next stop: The Beach Road Hotel for Kiki to gloat at Roosters fans. The only problem was that everyone there was so pissed they thought she was wearing Roosters colours.

And lastly: a drink and a pizza with our mate Shorto from the Jacksonville Axemen. Love you Shorto! Say hi to your dad for us!

I can’t express how much I adore every single Rooster for rebuilding us back into a team to be proud of this year. They finished second but it’s not enough of a reward for everything they did. All I can say is that seeing this broke my heart. It hurt even more than seeing Fitzy leave for the English Super League with a wooden spoon and a 16-point loss to the Cowboys, urgh.

And just as I was about to fume about Mark Gasnier sailing back in to get a Premiership ring, he stepped in to comfort Frank-Paul the Wrecking Ball:

Two words: NEXT YEAR. Next year, my darlings.

All pics: Getty Images

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footy observations: barbecues and theatre sports

August 12th, 2010

Well it happened, friends. Kiki’s Dragons and my Roosters clashed at the SCG. YES WE SURVIVED. It was surprisingly … civilised. Maybe the SCG just gives out those kind of vibes, because the whole thing was generally sunshiney and positive and lovely and genial. No, I’m not joking. Neither of us even got up and sang a song about scoring tries while doing an obnoxious little dance (which we usually really, really enjoy).

It also helped that there was a fucking fierce Roosters fan sitting behind us in a NSWRL-era jersey, who could perfectly imitate a rooster.

It’s hard to be depressed with a woman in a footy jersey cock-a-doodle-doing behind you. I think my mum actually has that embroidered on a teatowel.

It also helped that there was a lot to like. I cried a little tear when Kane Linnett limped from the field, but Todd Carney run the ball eased the pain. MAubs at centre for next week? Don’t mind if we do. Sure it might all go down in flames, but you can’t deny he runs beautiful lines and the bitch does have some footwork. I believe.

And lastly, it helped that some people had equally traumatic weekends:

Exhibit A: Intern John-John had to have his weekly leg-wax in public (well it was for charity)

Exhibit B: all of womanhood suffered as one when Matt Ballin’s face got injured. NOT THE FACE! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!

Exhibit C: J.Aubs discovered that when you’re out injured for the season … you’re suddenly at the bottom of the pyramid and the boys totally make you do all the shit jobs.  eg. take over when there’s smoke burning your vulnerable little eyes. As if he doesn’t have enough problems! Stop laughing Todd Carney!

Exhibit D: Oh, Beau. That’s him trying to hail a cab after his weekend performance.

Exhibit E: The Storm lost Greg Inglis …. and their will to live.

That reminds me: in completely expected and in no way surprising signing news, Greg Inglis is a Bronco. We all know he’s a fucking bandit for a maroon jersey. Also, we totally predicted it in the latest issue of Rugby League Player (buy it. It’s ace). We also predicted GI will take his boat with him to Brissie and start a Whitsunday charter sail operation that ends in tragedy. We’re pretty much Nostradamus, or something.

Errol fave Flash Gordon is staying at Penrith,while Jeremy Smith has joined the dark side and signed to the Sharks. If nothing else, we hope he somehow manages to cheer up Anthony Tupou with his love and friendship. WHY SO SAD, TOOPS?

Apparently Steve Matai turned down the Warriors before he confirmed a deal with Manly, meaning his deal with Manly will be a whole lot less. He is a master negotiator, no? We’re 99% sure that when Manly do give him a deal it will be for a glass of water and one of Des’ used hairbrushes and he’ll fall to the ground running in circles like Homer negotiating with Burns.

And up in Brissie, the elder statesmen Darren Lockyer STILL refuses to announce his retirement, and Corey Norman is rapidly turning into Peter Costello, waiting and waiting for John Howard to retire until all of a sudden Malcolm Turnbull’s party leader and Costello is losing his hair. Sucks to be Corey.

Related question – if Darren Lockyer was a vampire, he would be the Master from Buffy, yes?

But screw signings, more importantly JAMAL IS ON TV. He’s signed is a brand new deal to get him on the Footy Show and on that cop show. You know, the one with Gary Sweet.

Well played, Channel 9. Well played. To quote Jamal “I’m not the next big thing, but I’m pretty close to it”. AMEN.

But best of all, DES HASLER MADE A FUNNY. Last night at the Harbord Diggers, George Rose and a team of players took on Dessie’s team in the “Stage of Origin” theatre sports. Just take a moment to think about that, won’t you? Dessie sticking his arms through someone’s armpits and pretending to interview a celebrity. Dessie playing ‘subtitles’. Dessie pretending to do accents.


And on that note, I’m gonna leave you with a picture of the Roosters being adorable at a Mission Australia pre-City to Surf barbecue (shoutout to Dan!), and a link to see a shirtless George Rose rocking out at Stage of Origin. You’re welcome.

Hey, Shaun Kenny-Dowall, why so concerned about sausages?

(All game pics: Getty Images)

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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.


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footy observations: divers, hotpants and coconut ice

July 27th, 2010

Alright, kids, let’s solve Dive Gate once and for all. The Daily Telegraph have done their best to get us the story straight from the mouth of Nips. But to be honest, the story isn’t nearly as interesting as Nips Farah’s regular column in Mx magazine – “EYE OF THE TIGER”, seriously it’s our favourite complimentary weekly public transport-based column. Nonetheless, we choose to believe Nips’ side of the story.

Like our belief that Scott Prince wouldn’t live in an illegal house (he’s too snuggly to lie!) we also believe that Nips, being a Serious and Thoughtful Young Man, wouldn’t take a dive for a penalty. Of course, we were slightly torn when we heard Anthony Watmough was calling ‘dive’, cause God knows we’re Watmough freaks. But while we do enjoy his alleged stern stance on inappropriate outfits at family events – he just has strong opinions about fashion GUYZ – and we also appreciate him being super-supportive every time we’ve seen him, we’re gonna have to disagree on this one. Forgive us, Watmough?

In fact, the only thing we support about Dive Gate 2010 is the Daily Telegraph’s excellent photoshop work. Sure, it’s no intern John John in a sarong … what is? But it’s pretty damn awesome. Almost Kiki-worthy, no?

We are totally printing it out to hang on the wall of the Errol office. We think we might hang it right next to Nips’ appearance in the 2008 Gods of Football calendar, where he channelled Britney Spears.

Sigh, we miss you, pre-crazy Britney.

Now if you’ve jumped on the This Week in League bandwagon, you’ll know that one half of the show is Glen, who’s spent the last four months calling Lote Tuqiri ‘the revelation of the 2010 NRL season’.

(If you don’t know, TWiLeague is the world’s most fanciest sports podcast, and Glen is my most persistent heckler on twitter. Seriously. That shit is out of control).

And I have one thing to say to Glen – WHY DO YOU LIE? After Monday night’s game, we all know beyond the shadow of a doubt that the revelation of the 2010 season is the Chooks’ very own backpacker, Shaun Kenny-Dowall.

Thought I was about to say Todd Carney, right? Nah, he’s always been awesome. Awesome and … occasionally in trouble. But let’s not talk about the Unpleasantness. Todd and his fucking amazing running game are now the proud owners of a Roosters uniform with a pair of shorts so tiny they border on indecent.

Can I just say I am totally on board with the Roosters’ new hotpanted uniform. We all know I hate pants, they’re so binding! I wore a pair of acid-washed denim shorts out on Saturday night and with all the extra leg-freedom, my drunk dancing was at least 10 times more incredible than usual.

Mitchell Pearce apparently has the same opinion – thanks to the CountryRL twitter for giving us the heads up!

What was my point? THE BACKPACKER. Oh yes. I occasionally/sometimes/often criticise his ill-judged passes at vital moments. But I only do it because I can. It’s fine when Roosters fans bemoan the Roosters because we say it with love. Also, he does need to work on his pass choices, so whatevs. What’s important is that with the ball in his hands he’s a footy savant.

Even Kiki is in on the SKD love parade. She started thawing last year, and now all of a sudden she’s sending me messages that just say SKDDDDDD OMGGGGGG like a super-happy footy-watching lolcat.

Confession: we may even have given the backpacker a new nickname. In honour of his four tries, and how endearingly flushed he got scoring them, he shall now be known as pink man. PINK MAN. Doesn’t he sound like an awesome superhero with really good circulation? Pink Man might even have usurped the crown of pinkest man in league from our past winner, Anthony Quinn.

All of a sudden, seeing Mitch Aubusson and Shaun Kenny-Dowall in the same photo, I feel like a coconut ice.

Really it was just one more proof that Monday Night Football is one of God’s greatest gifts to his children. Last week, I got to stand on the hill at the Lilyfield Rectangle and watch Benji Marshall set up that last awesome Tigers try, this week I watched my boys grab third spot on the ladder. Add in Gorden Tallis bein’ Gordie, and Brandy Alexander coming close to a rage-induced stroke at the video ref and it’s pretty much heaven.

Haters to the left, and Roosters love in the comments pls.

Roosters pics. Getty Images

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footy observations: grudges, bitches and victory, sweet victory!

July 19th, 2010

We don’t like it either, boys.

So we hate to start the week on a downer, but you all keep asking for our thoughtz on the Melbourne Storm, so let’s get it out of the way first, shall we?

Yes, they are more cheaty than even we suspected, and it took a team of professional auditors to figure out just HOW cheaty they were. Also, yes, David Gallop’s new glasses are freaking awesome, huh? We love us some nerd glasses. We think they make him look very distinguished.

Here’s the way we see it: while it sucks for the innocent players that they have to be called cheats by rowdy New Zealand crowds, can you really blame the kiwis? Every other team in the NRL that played by the rules got screwed by the Storm. Of course the fans are angry. It’s kind of mean, but totally understandable. Also, the guy in Auckland with the “BILLY SLATER’S A COCK” sign clearly wrote it on the back of a beer carton at the game while drunk, so no judgment.

I would also like to include twitter-friend Hilius‘ brilliant summary:

I don’t see what’s wrong with “BILLY SLATER’S A COCK”. Penile banners are a proud tradition in rugby league – see the Roosters’ “WE’LL BEAT YOU WITH OUR COCKS” and the Bulldogs’ “STAGG, GO IN HARD – DON’T FLOP”. Billy should be honoured.

Lolz x 1000.

Best solution as we see it is for the Melby Storm to start putting things right. As in actually start making the Big Scary Decisions about which players have to go and which players can stay. At least then the fans would feel like they’re serious about getting under the salary cap, cause right now it seems like the Melbourne storm just don’t really care and aren’t trying. Offloading Ryan Tandy isn’t exactly a huge show of good faith, you know? Plus the longer they wait, the more players will end up on reduced contracts at the Storm, or overseas, which would suck for the NRL and for their own livelihoods.


And that’s all we have to say about that.

Instead, let’s talk about the epic footy-boner that was this weekend (except for the Sharks and Manly. Soz guys). AMAZING. Phil Gould was saying on the Sunday Roast that he thinks this is probably one of the softest seasons of footy he’s seen … as in no teams are really dominating. He’s right, in that you really don’t expect the team at the top of the table to cut it as fine as the Dragons did against the Rabbitohs. But if games like we saw this weekend are the result then who cares?  I LIKE IT.


Y’all know we think Cooper Cronk is the fiercest bitch in ruby league. Well the bitch has competition from an unlikely corner: Manu Vatuvei. Usually when he scores a try/drops a ball/does something insane his response is just to grin and flash his gold teeth and continue being the Beast. And the crowd goes wild, naturally, cause he has charisma on Wil Smith-type levels (but without the creepy possible ties to Scientology).

On Saturday night he bungled a kick receive in spectcaular fashion, grinned, ran in a try a few minutes later and GOT ALL UP IN COOPER CRONK’S BIZNESS.

The tension was palpable. The fact that no one got bitchslapped was a miracle. I thought Manu was gon’ polish up his acrylics and cut a bitch. Welcome to the Fierce Bitch club, Manu.

And is it a coincidence that as soon as Manu discovers his inner bitch, the Warriors string together a whole bunch of impressive wins? For most of the season our tipping policy has been to only tip the Warriors if they’ve lost the week before, cause God knows they’d never win two in a row. Congratulations on ruining my tips, guys.

In related news, Kevin Locke is back, and still adorable.


For all the people who got to half time in the Penrith and Parramatta game, thought it was done and dusted, and pushed the big red Foxtel button to watch Manly instead … bad choice. Seriously, bad choice. Big, huge mistake. Jarryd-with-a-Y Hayne outran Michael Jennings for one man miracle try like Nathan Gardener against the Roosters the other week. (Except when Hayne did it, it didn’t make me want to top myself, like it did when Nathan Gardener did).

People cried! Nathan Hindmarsh was everywhere! Just Horo scored a try! Feleti Mateo DID stuff.

Parramatta are starting to make me realise what it’s like to be a teacher. You get frustrated because you know little Parra is JUST SO TALENTED, and if they would actually study, and try, they’d be awesome, but they’re too busy picking their nails with scissors and refusing to concentrate. Then all of a sudden at exam time they breeze in without even opening their textbook and manage to get an A.

If Parra make it to the finals again this year I won’t be surprised. At all. Totally the kind of thing those contrary little Eels would do, right?


I am so proud right now. Of my Roosters for their win on Sunday, and of myself for finally – finally – managing to win Kiki over to my team. Okay, so she’s not totally ready to adopt the Roosters as a second team yet, but I’m getting closer. She is now officially a Shaun Kenny-Dowall super fan, a lover of Todd Carney and Mitchell Aubusson, and closet lover of Martin Kennedy and Jared Warea-Hargreaves.


She even – grudgingly – said something nice about Mitchell Pearce and Braith Anasta last week. Really! I swear! Whether you love them or hate them, my boys have heart.

I was sceptical when Braith came to the Chooks. I wasn’t sure I was down with all this ex-Bulldogs fuckery, until I saw him in 2008 get hit in the face and literally CRAWL downfield on his hands and knees to stagger to his feet and get back in the game. That’s heart. Mitchell Pearce’s defence has heart. Mitchell playing through his 8,000 career knocks to the head is definitely heart.

The Sunday game was there for the Bulldogs to take, but the Roosters wanted it more, no? If you didn’t enjoy this game, then you are clearly dead inside and I pity you.

Wanna know my two highlights of the game?

1. Pearce and Carney combining to score a try from that Jake Friend pass. Why do Todd and Mitchell look so profoundly … troublesome when they’re together? Who knows. They just have an air of about-to-do-something-mischievous. Whatever. It works. When they play well, angels get their wings. Possibly also Todd gets another tattoo.

2. Braith Anasta’s Rage. I didn’t think it was possible, but I know love Braith’s bitchery as much as I love Cooper Cronk’s. His quarrels with Gavin Badger made my heart sing. He’s the kind of captain who leads from in front. His Rage is actually now another player in the Roosters team. (Dunno if you remember, but yes, Braith Anasta’s Crotch is also a Roosters player. He’s very versatile, that Braith).


Lastly, there are lots of grumbles about Noddy Kimmorley not getting the recognition he deserved for playing 300 games. So in tribute to our favourite footy gnome, let’s relive the time the NRL made him sit on Sassy’s knee at the NRL Players’ Christmas Party. Click on the link, scroll to the end and enjoy.

All pics: Getty Images

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errol tv: easter show shenanigans

April 14th, 2010


We are absolutely bloody exhausted right now. We spent the entire day at the Easter Show, most of that time was spent on the cattle lawn with NRL players and really cute kids. And wow, that lawn provided a powerful stench. It also provided Kiki with Embarassing Life Moment #567

Servo dude – “Busy day today?”

Kiki – “Yeh, I was working at the Easter Show. I had to go home and have a shower coz I smelt like poo.”

Servo dude – “…..”


We’re also pretty proud, cause today is a big day bitches. Today is the WORLD PREMIERE OF ERROL TV. We have been talking about it for ages, creating videos just for Errol. But because we are us, it’s taken about 6 months to turn ideas into reality. But finally, we did it! Hoorah!

We are dedicated to our Errol readers. We will even spend a day in a tent that smells of shit.  Behold, the debut of Errol Tv! Featuring us and our double chins, Kiki’s unbelievably bad hair, Rhys Wesser, Luke Priddis, Trent Waterhouse, Roosters cuddles and a Tiger who really really loves hot dogs. Please know that when Sassy says ‘fans’, she does it with irony. And please watch out for the ARL dude running a training drill while smashing an entire ear of corn on a stick. Legend.

Apologies from Kiki re – the whole ‘I can’t be bothered doing my makeup so I’m gonna wear giant Top Gun sunnies that look terrible on camera’. It won’t happen again. Live and learn people.

Other highlights of the day, sadly not all of them caught on film, included:

* Mario Fenech burning Sassy: “you’re a funny girl, but not intentionally”.

* Mario telling us we were the best looking media there. Considering everyone else was a dude, this isn’t much of a compliment. BUT THANKS MUZ! We love ya.

* Sassy pretending to kick Andy from the NRL, only for him to literally flinch in fear. Awesome.

* We found ourselves needing a break from the poo smell. We soon discovered a place that served margaritas. Kiki asked “can we have one? is it 12pm yet?”. Sassy responded “11.40am, close enough. It’s tequila time.” Mmmm … frozen daytime alcohol.

* Kiki being so upset by Luke Priddis telling her she is too old for a Disney Princess showbag, she ended up buying a Tinkerbell stationery one instead.

She does love her new Tink pencil tin and matching Tink crayons (and created Sassy a truly spectacular artwork for her fridge) but deep down she really wanted a plastic tiara. DAMN YOU LUKE PRIDDIS.

And look how happy Sassy looks. Kiki missed out like WOAH.

* Luke Priddis redeeming himself by telling Kiki her Dragons necklace was ‘beautiful’ during their interview. Well spotted L.Pridd.

* Seeing Isaac Luke exiting the Milking Barn. Apparently he is really into dairy.

Make sure you comment and tell us what you think x

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footy observations: nostradamus and shaking hands

March 1st, 2010

Notice anything different about me? YES, THAT’S RIGHT, KIDS. I AM FEELING EXTRA SMUG TODAY.

One of my top twenty favourite things in life is Being Right. I’m basically an idiot and – to be honest – it doesn’t happen very often, so when it happens twice in one week I get some extra swagger in my havaianas.

Remember last week when I warned Knights fans that this year they were stuck at the bottom of the wheel of footy fates and they should spend the rest of the year in their backyard bunkers?

I think the Knights should just accept that they are the new Roosters (who were the new Bulldogs) and will suffer calamity all year. Just hibernate for the next 12 months. As a Roosters fan, trust me, it’s not worth the psychological trauma of staying awake.

No it wasn’t just a brief, horrible dream. You really are the new Roosters. The latest news is that Danny Wicks’ scooter buddy Chris Houston has been charged with drug offences by police and stood down. Which means, well, badtimes for him. But more importantly, no more jokes about him looking like an old-timey blacksmith for us. It’s always the bloggers who suffer.

As the voice of experience though, I’m here for you darlings. I know the pain. I made it through 2009. Sure, I lost a few brain cells from incessantly banging my head against the nearest supporting wall, but then I found out that also burns calories. WIN.

And if you follow the Errol twitter you’ll also know that, as soon as the Houston story broke, I knew in my heart of footy hearts that somewhere a subeditor would see this story, grin with glee and headline it HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM. Aaaaand this morning the Sydney Morning Herald subbing pool did. I am pretty much Nostradamus right now.

Check my rocking white tights, whut whut.

While I’ve been living in my belltower writing down the future on parchment and that, and Knights fans have been buying up big on Xanax, Errol’s favourite ladykiller Tim Sheens sent his boys to etiquette class.

Class valedictorian and Tim-Sheens-in-training Beau Ryan.
Pic. Gregg Porteous.

Etiquette class! I’m not even kidding, I think this is genius. After all, I went to etiquette classes at June Dally-Watkins’ deportment school and look how well I turned out. Sure I may be tactless and inappropriate, but I can sit down without flashing, set a table with proper cutlery, and if I ever run into the Prime Minister and a Catholic priest simultaneously at a cocktail party I can introduce myself and shake hands perfectly, all while holding both a canape and a glass of champagne. I believe these are what they call “life skills”.

…. hmmm. Tell me more about this “can of peas”, Sassy.
Pic. Gregg Porteous

I’m also going out on a limb and suggesting to the lovely etiquette trainer that maybe Tim Molzten needs a few more lessons.

SCOFFING A DANISH FROM MICHEL’S PATISSERIE AT MEDIA EVENTS IS NOT ON THE LIST OF APPROPRIATE BEHAVIOUR MOLTZ. Seriously, it’s not. Just ask Beau Ryan. You can’t kiss a lady’s hand with danish breath.

We all might want to consider giving up the booze, too, because apparently Todd Carney’s new policy of laying off the beers has rekindled his love for life.

Pic. Phil Hillyard

So happy! Now that he doesn’t have to take up valuable time buying, refigerating, drinking and sleeping off beers, and dealing with awkward questions about people’s pants catching on fire, Todd has rediscovered the simple joys of a roller coaster. A sunset. A rainbow. An afternoon spent shopping with Shaun Kenny-Dowall or with a cup of Earl Grey on his balcony.

He was hands down the hit of the Roosters Luna Park fan day.

That worried looking lady? Yep, she’s been reading the tabloids.

Wondering why the Roosters all look so happy, by the way? Oh, yeah, cause we won again. That’s all. Carry on.

Love Sassy xxo

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a short victory gloat

February 22nd, 2010

PRAISE THE FOOTY GODS, IT HAPPENED! My darling little scandal-rats and wooden spooners won a game yesterday. Roosters vs Tigers, Foundation Cup, 28-10. If I were any prouder I would have to punch myself in the trachea for being so annoying.

Do I care that it was only a trial match? No, darlings, I don’t. Does it sober me up a little when I remember that the Tigers didn’t name a full-strength team? Of course it doesn’t, kittens. Do I think it’s slightly premature and kind of obnoxious to bedazzle ‘SUCK IT SUCHY’* in red white and blue crystals onto the butt of a pair of swimmers and prance about wearing them to taunt/horrify him? Bitch please.

She could be a farmer in those clothes.

Being a footy fan is like being a farmer. You have to cut up the hay while the sun shines. Or some shit like that. You have to make the most of small victories, otherwise before you know it 2002 is a distant memory, your hooker might go to gaol and people start sending you pictures of wooden spoons. The whole hay business is also multiplied by a factor of Matt Cooper’s hotness if you’re a Roosters fan because everyone hates you anyway, so you have nothing to lose.

It’s like when I was a teenager and had my First Proper Job in a charcoal chicken shop. Oh, the greasy, glamorous stench of poultry-based employment!

Ola Chickens!

Turns out chicken-slinging had its downsides. Who would’ve guessed? Downsides like having to regularly shampoo the smell of cooking oil out of your hair, and finding chicken stuffing embedded in your vans/shoelaces/thongs. Yes, I did wear vans, what of it? It was the nineties, don’t judge me.

Also, downsides like having to deal with at least ninety-five men a day who would order a quarter chicken and follow it up with the requisite leering cheeseball ‘I’m a breast man, myself!’ joke even though you SPECIFICALLY ASKED LEG OR WING TO TRY AND AVOID THIS SITUATION. I’M NOT EVEN WEARING A LOW-CUT TOP. GOD.

Wow, now that I write it all down, working in chicken really is like going to a football game, huh? Frequent and unsubtle sexual innuendo and everything!

But the point is this: after spending a day covered in stuffing and pretending to smile at people’s shit jokes, you feel like you deserve something. Even if that something is a free chicken burger you make yourself and a slap on the ass from the cute Russian stockboy. Chicken-slingers and Roosters fans gotta take what life gives em. And this weekend – life gave me a Todd Carney-led Roosters trial match Renaissance. THANKS TODD! I LOVE YOU NOW!

In other news it was actually totally unplanned that my Roosters simile was also about chickens. Amazing. I feel like Lozzy will really appreciate that. [IT’S TRUE. I DO! I would also like to add that I went to this game, and seeing Steggles announced as the major sponsor not only on the giant screen but also across the loudspeaker will NEVER STOP BEING FUNNY  – L ]

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and write ‘TODD 4ORIGIN’ on my forearm in Sharpie.

* Suchy being our Errol bestie, as well as a lifelong Tigers fan.

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footy observations: a tale of four fullbacks

February 17th, 2010

So it’s probably obvious that since we got back from the Gold Coast on Sunday we’ve been feeling pretty miserable. The faces in the Errol office have been worryingly bleak and Russian-literature-esque. Or if you’re not a fan of Tolstoy references, we was sad pandas.

After all, how are you meant to go back to normal life after the lovefest of a week we had and the brilliant All-Stars game? You can’t. Not without help. And luckily for us, instead of having to hit the pharmacy and beg for some uppers, we got this. If you didn’t read it, here’s what you missed:

Central Districts are marvelling at the courage of their left-arm bowler Ewen Thompson who bowled 10 overs on the trot in their one-day semifinal win against Canterbury with a kebab stuck in his throat.

According to the team manager:

“ET is kicking himself a bit because he is supposed to watch what he eats. He was in a rush to eat before training [on Friday] and he scoffed down a kebab and obviously some meat got stuck.

“The fact that he was able to bowl 10 tidy overs on the trot for us and only go for 36 runs, feeling the way he was, was quite remarkable.”

EWEN THOMPSON YOU ARE THE GREATEST HUMAN EVER. And for so many reasons, not least of which is the fact that he was on his way to an athletic training session, and thought, what shall I eat to propel my body to maximum physical fitness? A KEBAB. It sounds so … Mark Riddell. And it made me smile for a good 3.6 hours.

Know who else loves kebabs? Whoever owns this board:


FYI league fans, you will be delighted to know that the offending kebab was not one of Ali Baba’s famous Robbie Farah Kebabs (TM). As the English Four Nations commentators explained in detail, Robbie Farah Kebabs (TM) are healthy – “they have chicken in them!” – and do not constitute a choking hazard for cricketers.

The Willie Mason drama-fest continued with this story, too, about how Willie Mason is a footy membership angel of death, and:

The Roosters have sold 409 memberships since February 5 when Mason made his move to the Townsville club – an increase of more than 40 per cent from the 287 memberships sold in the 10 days before Mason’s departure.

The surge also coincides with the Roosters signing producers Steggles as their major sponsor until 2012.

It’s not necessarily that I enjoy reading bitchy things in the paper (that’s a lie, I totally do), but that I am pretty much a scientist (remember the Oh Errol Experiment in 2009?) and I have spent the last 24 hours trying to figure out which of these things is true about Roosters fans.

a) do they really really hate Willie Mason?, or

b) do they just really really love chicken?

Either way, the message is that you should never ever call Nick Politis ‘fat’ in a press conference, or the Universe will punish you with bitchy newspaper stories about how no one likes you.

But the footy news this week is really all about fullbacks. Kurt Gidley and his mysterious knee injury are apparently going to be out of action until round 10 of the season. Hopefully that means he also gets a doctor’s letter giving him four months exemption from having to pee in a cup. HE CAN’T STAND PROPERLY, PEOPLE. HOW DO YOU EXPECT HIM TO AIM AT THE PLASTIC CUP?

I think the Knights should just accept that they are the new Roosters (who were the new Bulldogs) and will suffer calamity all year. Just hibernate for the next 12 months. As a Roosters fan, trust me, it’s not worth the psychological trauma of staying awake.

At Roosters HQ our new coach Brian-Smith-please-God-help-us is making the boys focus on the positives.

In my mind, this means they all have canes and dance around singing ac-cen-tuate the positive. Other than that … I got nothin. I remember no positives from 2009.

What I do know is that on Sunday when the Chooks play the Tigers, Todd Carney will be playing at fullback. I know we haven’t known each other long, Brian, but this confuses me. Carney at fullback in a team with Minichiello as captain? And Ben Jones in the halves? I love lil Benny like my own fabulous ranga child, but surely after his game on Saturday you’d consider him for hooker?

Is it just cause Brian the great white hope is trying to keep Carney as isolated as possible from the rest of the players as often as possible in case his aura of calamity infects the other players and someone goes up in flames?

And his opposite number with be Timmy Moltzen, which breaks my heart, cause I thought he was a massive improver in the halves last year. I was so proud I even caught Kiki’s weird condition where watghin him play made me talk like a league commentator. “… and hasn’t Moltzen really come along this year?” “He’s really liking that no. 6 jersey, isn’t he?” “That’s the kind of confidence a coach loves to see”. I JUST REALLY LIKE HIM, OK GUYZ?

But the fullback superstar of the week is clearly Jarrod-with-an-O Sammut. Who is now taking styling tips from Cap’n Jack Sparrow. I can’t wait till he starts plaiting beads into his moustache. the news of the day is that bitch is STACKED! Oh, yeah, and he has a tattoo that’s spelled wrong.

Those extra ten kilos will be perfect for crushing the poor tattooist who traced out ‘justify your existance’.

Meanwhile thanks to the sub-editor who called him ‘the incredible hulk’ in the tele, now every time I hear his name I think of the Simpsons ep where Bart calls Milhouse an “emotionally crippled mini-hulk”. From now on, in my mind, he shall be known as Milhouse.

And cause it’s only four-ish weeks till the season starts, here’s a completely lolz thread of summaries and predictions for each of the teams (not by us). Enjoy xx

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footy observations: tigers, chickens and chicken legs

February 6th, 2010

The important news is that Errol HQ will be pretty empty for the next week or so. You see, Intern John John’s busy with pre-season training up in FNQ, work experience boy Lachie is spending the weekend out in Penrith at the Panther’s members day …. And us? We have a busy week ahead of BEING AWESOME.

Tomorrow Kiki and I are hitting up the Return to South Sydney game at Redfern Oval, and entertaining some lucky peeps at a pre-game party. Then we’re flying up to the Gold Coast to bring you live bloggy-updates about all the All-Stars vs Indigenous preparations.  Lozzy’s volunteered to mind the nest/water the plants/make sure no neighbourhood hooligans break in and steal our booze, then she’s coming up on Friday so the whole Errol crew can watch the game together.

Okay, so maybe not so much “BEING awesome” as “BEING three losers … around awesome people”. Potato, Potahto.

And if 2009 was the year of rugby league scandal (aren’t they all?) …. Then 2010 marks the Return to League. Every Lote, Timana and his dog is coming back to the loving arms of rugby league.

We knew you’d come back, babies!

Timana Tahu has come from the dark side of the force, aka rugby union, to play with the Eels. Lote’s come from the Telegraph’s back page to sign with the Tigers … even Greg Bird has come back from his busy schedule of court appearances to sign with the Titans.

It’s just like that Peter Allen song: all of the shiiiiiiips come back to the shoooorrrrre. He wrote that about rugby league, right? Yep I thought so. He totally did.

Just quietly, he would also totally approve of Greg Bird’s choice of team: the Titans have by far the prettiest uniforms in the league. I know this because my fierce gay friend Rick tells me so. Also, because Prince Scotty the Caramel plays for the Titans, and whichever uniform he wears is by default the prettiest.

More importantly, how many potential halves do the Titans have now? Mat? Scott? Preston? Greg? Is Carty running a full two-string team now, like NFL? Shit is ridiculous. And by ‘ridiculous’, clearly I mean ‘I’m shitty they don’t play for my team’.

I also, apparently, have the mind of a small child. Because anytime anyone mentions Lote’s new job, they seem to use the phrase ‘Lote the tiger’, which causes my brain to produce this image of Tony the Tiger:


I like to think Lote picked the Tiges purely for this reason. Mark my words within six months he’ll be wearing a jaunty red neckerchief with his Tigers uniform and spruiking Frosties breakfast cereal in the ad breaks of the Channel 7 evening news. Mark. My. Words.

Kiki thinks the powers that be at the Tigers needed to hire Lote to keep up their dreadlock quote. After losing Daine Laurie to the Panthers they were in serious deficit.

It’s also possible he just wanted to be close to Blake Ayshford. After all, the man has eyes.

And while other teams have been busy bringing ex-league players back to the fold, my boys the Roosters have been busy signing up … Steggles.

That’s right kids, Steggles chickens are the new major sponsors of the Sydney Roosters, and it’s the greatest thing I’ve ever heard. If there’s one thing Errol loves, it’s Really Literal Thinking.

Remember that time Kiki posted about going to Orange AND USED A PICTURE OF AN ORANGE?

Yep, we are all over this chicken-to-chicken connection. Sure, as Brett Oaten kindly pointed out, it might not be the best fit for a team of Roosters to be sponsored by a company whose primary business is the wholesale slaughter of chickens.

The chicken formerly known as Brent Grose.

And as twitterer and generally hilarious human Jen Bennett suggested:

… now we know what they do with underperforming players. Wait, has anyone seen Fittler recently?

LIES! They told me they sent Freddy to a farm!

I like to think Daniel Conn was being serious when he told facebook now they get paid in chicken. Mmmmm, chicken. What footy player doesn’t love food, hmmmm? More importantly, what self-respecting footy player doesn’t love chicken?

We know for sure that Stanley Waqa does, because he told us so the first time we ever met him, back when he was playing for the Newtown Jets. I believe his exact words were – as he looked up from eating a chicken schnitzel: “… I love chicken”.

I rest my case.

All they need now is to convince the Steggles sister brand – Bartter Eggs – to sponsor the Roosters Under 20s side. It’s called Brand Synergy. Get onto it, Nick Politis.

[Personally I think the Chooks should print all position numbers on jerseys this year as Nugget 1, Nugget 2 etc etc – lozzy]

But back to the Return to South Sydney match tomorrow: the Bunnies will be playing the Manly Sea Eagles, and there’s one man we’re especially excited to see.

Michael Robertson … come on down!

The reason? We really, really need to check out his backside.

I’m serious. According to the Cumberland Courier, back in the day when Robbo was signed to the Sea Eagles, he was a legs-and-arse charity case. The generally accepted wisdom was that a footy player needed strong legs and a lot of junk in the trunk (this certainly explains Wendell’s success), but Robbo:

“… failed miserably on the sight test. His legs wouldn’t have been out of place on an anorexic chicken while his backside was non-existent.”

Poor Robbo, with his chicken legs and sad, unpadded pelvis.

And poor Robbo for having it revealed in the newspaper. Why does the media constantly print and broadcast embarrassing things about Robbo and his crotchal region? Remember the wang dance?

But rest assured, because we are committed journalists and confirmed perves, we will use our time tomorrow at Redfern Oval wisely, and make sure that we suss out the current state of Robbo’s union, so to speak.

Till next time, make sure you check our twitter account for all the vital Errol hapz. See you on the Goldy!

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