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

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

May not be actual Parramatta CEO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do I get to stay in the Wildcats now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, Steve.

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

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

Screencap from the lovely Art1e.

Well Intern Brownie and I are officially on non-speaks. Again. I hate when we have our little tiffs.

After the undignified thrashing that Intern Greg Bird and his sharks gave my Roosters on friday night (20-0! Kill me now!), compared with the Dragons 34-6 win over the Warriors, Intern Brownie has been unbearable. Dancing around the office celebrating his team’s finals chances, singing ‘Saved by the Dell’ and occasionally making sad little chicken noises.

NOBODY LIKES A GLOATER, BROWNIE.

And because I can’t blame my boys, or Saint Freddy (even though he seems to want to blame himself) I’ve become very upset with Intern Brownie.

It’s blindingly obvious by now that the Roosters have some serious psychological issues going on. I know they can win games, they just can’t manage to want to win games. It’s ripping my heart out to watch. Which is why I can’t blame them, you know? Those kids have enough to deal with. My message to the boys is just forget about the loss and concentrate on reciting the affirmations your therapist gave you:

I AM WORTHY OF LOVE AND ADMIRATION.

I HAVE UNTAPPED AND INFINITE POTENTIAL.

I DESERVE SUCCESS.

Good boys. They’ll start working soon.

It’s a shame too, because Brownie and I had been having such a lovely week. Knocking off work at lunch to lie top-n-tail on the couch and watch the Olympic diving together, eating jelly snakes and giving insightful commentary on the springboard events, re-enacting rhythmic gymnastic routines using the left over crepe paper from Hot Man Christmas. See if I play ‘Italian ribbons routine’ with you this week, mister. Hmph.

I should probably also point out at this point that the Errol office is in disarray this morning anyway, and I’m sure you can guess why. We awoke to the news that Intern Greg Bird won’t be fronting up for work today … because he’s kind of in jail.

Needless to say this is Not Good News to face first thing on a Monday. We Errol girls aren’t very good at mornings in general life, let alone when one of our employees has been charged with assault. I’ve already had two high-kick Mimosas ** and it’s not even ten thirty yet.

And I think for now, that’s all we’ll say about that.

Back to my sad chooks for a moment. The only bright spot in that whole game was that Paul Gallen’s grapple tackle on our Errol favourite, David Shillington, caused a little bit of push-n-shove. Shirt-lifting push-n-shove. Our favourite kind!

pic: Getty Images / smh.com.au

Have you been working out more, Shillo? On the Parramatta low-carb diet? Either way we’re all very impressed. Even John John!

And it seems like the Roosters are also determined to outdo Manly as the most retro team in the league. They’ve introduced some snazzy new workout suits and debuted them at the Roosters fan BBQ. It almost goes without saying that I approve. So seventies! So New York Jew!

(Thanks to Browder for the fab Braith pic)

CHAS TENENBAUM I LOVE YOUR WORK!

Now onto the Warriors (STOP LAUGHING, INTERN BROWNIE. JESUS). I’m going to be honest, for most of this season I was completely indifferent to the Warriors. Didn’t like em, didn’t hate em. Plus they were kind of far away so it was easy to just pretend they didn’t exist. That was all before they started their mass beardathon. It is hilarious and I love it.

The Channel Nine commentary team announced on Sunday they have solved The Mystery of The Beards (that they’re tributes to Ruben Wiki) but … didn’t we all know that already? Way to fall off the pace Channel Nine! We here at Errol have been discussing this vitally important news story at our afternoon cocktail hour for weeks. WEEKS I TELL YOU! We are all over the facial hair news.

And we are especially all over it insofar as it involves Michael Witt and his amazing ginger moustache. We just love a man who grows a surprise ginger mo and doesn’t shave it off in a moment of despair and vanity. Perhaps I misjudged you, Mr Witt. FLY THE FLAG WITTY! We love it.

Meanwhile the Tigers have brought back the old Wests jerseys to wear while being beaten by Manly. FINALLY, A V NECK. I’m ever so happy. Because do you know who looks good in a round neck? That’s right, the answer is “not football players”.

Sure they may not have won, but they looked fabulous. Look how flattering that is. Especially on Daine Laurie as he scored two one-man tries, side-stepping defence with his old gold legs, dreadlocks in full flight. The man must be eight feet tall.

And in the process of winning over the Tigers, how much better was Anthony Watmough’s game? I like to think he has been paying attention to his horoscopes and spent a morning at home focussing and preparing mentally for his game:

Spend a little extra time and energy at home today, as there are issues just starting to arise that you can handle with ease at this point.

The other possibility is that Des Hasler giving the boys the silent treatment after their loss last week to the Rabbitohs scared them into a win. Oh, Des! The silent treatment? Can’t you just imagine it?

I hope that while he was refusing to speak to the boys he also made extra noise while he did the washing-up in the kitchen and bashed pots and pans together and when anyone asked what was wrong just shouted “NOTHING. I’M FINE. CAN’T A MAN WASH UP WITHOUT BEING QUESTIONED ALL THE TIME?”

Poor boys though. Apparently the Manly kids just can’t make anyone happy lately. As if it’s not bad enough that they pissed off the wardrobe mistress and art director of the Gods of Football and were forced to play poker in their white hospital boxers for a segment on The Footy Show. That was super awkward.

And, kittens, I hate to leave you on a sad note, but in the Raiders vs South Sydney game yesterday Troy Thompson was taken off field with a ruptured achilles, and Marc-with-a-C Herbert with a medial ligament injury.

NOT THE HERB! We are utterly heartbroken. Herb is one of our Errol favourites and we can’t bear to think of the rest of the season without him. Rest up for 2009 Herbie baby.

* Next time I promise to actually write something about, you know, football. This week you just have to settle for the Important Business of uniform fashions, facial hair, and therapy updates.

** If you were wondering, it’s just like a regular Mimosa, but with an extra shot of Tanqueray, for that little high kick to the brain. WHEE!

I am shocked, boys. Shocked and appalled! I turn my back for a week to watch a little bit of Olympics and you all start turning all Lord of the Flies on me.

This week has been yet more dramaz and violence ahoy in the NRL.  As if we didn’t have enough.

Anyway, as we go back through the violent tendencies from this week, I’m going to give you my observations in point form. We can pretend each one is a ninja star.

* My Roosters. I am so, so unbelievably glad I was out downing voddies and dancing to the Misshapes instead of watching this. We were crushed 30-6.  Let’s just say if this really were Lord of the Flies, the Storm were the choir boys. That’s all I have to say about that.

* Ben Roberts has escaped his assault charge with a $2,500 fine. By my caluclations this means there must now be TWO Bulldogs still in possession of their liberty, not on the run from the law, and fit enough to be able to play for team this week. HALLELUJAH!  That’s the most they’ve had in weeks!  Jessica and that guy who wears the wooden spoon hat to doggies games will be overjoyed.

* There was enough passive-aggression on the field between the Tigers and Parramatta Eels on Monday to outdo even Benny Roberts and his assaults. I don’t know if it was because Brett Hodgson finally found Oh Errol and was offended by my Starlight Hodgson comments, but bitch was pissed. I know this because he complained even more than Brett Finch.

And I don’t know if it’s due to a new end of season Atkins diet but the Fattamatta Eels are back in some kind of form. Running! Scoring tries! Not puffing so much!

I’m thisclose to joining Big Blog just so I can comment on Nathan Hindmarsh’s blog and ask for their secret. It’s low carb, isn’t it?

I think the wild weather sent the boys from the west a little Lord of the Flies too, because Bryce Gibbs took out Krisnan Inu with a high arm in a tackle and Corey Payne went for Jarryd ‘Baby’ Hayne’s face in a retro facial massage.

Or is it jealousy? Are Corey and Bryce just pissed that they didn’t get nominated in the Errol awards this year? ENVY IS SO UNBECOMING, BOYS. If you have broken Krisnan’s adorable sunshiney smile or Baby Hayne’s snuggly little face I will get all Ben Roberts on your ass. Trust.

Feleti Mateo didn’t need any help though. They say he injured a knee, we know better. In his few weeks off he got a taste for Ranch Dressing and daytime tv and bitch doesn’t wanna give it up.

Now that’s a ranch-dressing belly if ever I saw one.

Do you think it’s a coincidence it happened just as he was seeing what it’s like to play a full game back in the first grade side? More like he started to feel tingles down his left arm and realised what we all firmly believe: that intense exercise is tres unpleasant. He’s totally faking this. WE SEE THROUGH YOU FELETI.

(Pssst – come over next week if you want to watch Oprah together, bb)

* Souths fans are clearly going crazy on the island too, because as South Sydney were unexpectedly demolishing Manly on the weekend, one crazy Rabbitohs fan decided the best way to express his joy was by throwing a metal socket at Steve Matai. A metal socket? Does anyone even know what that is? Like … a light socket? God I am so confused.

Confused in so many ways. You’re winning. How does that translate to a socket to Steve Matai’s head? I already explained last time that Matai’s cornrows do not amount to head protection. Yes, he may have a cornrow fringe now – which, by the way Steve, I really enjoy.  V flattering - but bitch is still human and this primal socket-throwing stuff is really quite dangerous.  (Well, it’s dangerous assuming a metal socket is what I think it is.  It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye!)

What’s next, the pig on a stick?

I also wanna give a shout out to Anthony Watmough who had a shocker of a game against the Rabbitohs. It wasn’t your fault, Tony. You may not know it, but the universe was Not Happy with you on Sunday. So it wasn’t that you lost the plot, so much as the planets gave you a massive kick in the face. Here’s a little excerpt from your Sunday horoscope:

You are so distracted at the moment and need to understand which activities and people are of value or of prime importance.

UNCANNY, right?  No wonder you kept knocking on and missing tackles.  You were astrologically distracted.

If you want to start consulting the stars before next week’s match to see if your performance will improve, I highly recommend Astro Barry.

* Tim Sheens doesn’t want to be left out either, so he’s decided to call back some Tigers greats to relive the seventies, maybe slap each other around a little bit, and promote their next game during the week. Really Tim Sheens.  Selling football with violence?  I expected more of you.

Sigh.  I just hope things are a little more sunshine and rainbows this weekend in the league.  All this injury and drama is so exhausting.  I had to have two tumblers of voddie and dry just watching the football on Monday night.

So in the interest of my mental health, and not getting cirrhosis of the liver, all Reni and I are asking you, babies, is:

Give peace a chance.

[Editor's note from Sassy: Lord knows most of the Errol girls (even Lozzy) are ridiculously biased against pretty much everything football-related that comes from north of the border so we're lucky that our girl Bree agreed to write a guest recap for us this week.

Not just because we are all for ladies who know their league, but because it means that we actually get a recap involving Queensland teams that doesn't include profanities or tirades of abuse about Karmichael Hunt and his awful facial hair. So thank you darlin! Over to you pretty lady.]

Firstly a little about me; I’m 20 from the Sunshine State and I live, breathe and worship NRL. I am just learning this whole blog thing, so hopefully you guys enjoy this.

I’ll also just put it out there that my memory of the game may be slightly patchy due to an excessive intake of alcohol throughout the day. I am not a raging alcoholic, but I had just finished uni exams for the semester, so what better way to celebrate than to drink from 11am, get tanked and go to the footy?

[(Kiki: None).]

I am surprised and impressed Suncorp Stadium let me in.

The pre-match entertainment is all a blur. It’s the same week in week out and I won’t bore you with it. The hot pink vinyl wearing cheergirls (see below for the monstrosities they wear) came out and “performed”.

I am constantly amazed at how shockingly awful the thing they do is. It’s something that the six year old sister I don’t even have could easily do.

[Sassy: The outfits! Good god! THEY BURNNNNNNN.]

The game started with a minute’s silence in memory of the ‘Godfather’ of Queensland Rugby Leage, Dick ‘Tosser’ Turner. Of course some moron shouted out half way through the minute and started the whole crowd off.

The Broncos started sloppily with a Joel Moon kick that landed out on the full and wasn’t even close to being in. It could quite easily have ended up grabbing a drink from the bar 35 rows back. From the Moon error, Chris Heighington made a bust through some very sloppy Brisbane defence. In fact I think I could have done a better job on that occasion and I have absolutely NO idea how to tackle. Try to the Tigers.

From the restart Matty Head had butter fingers and dropped the ball, and the following set of six saw the Broncos get a penalty for the Tigers pushing Tonie ‘Tunza’ Carroll over as he was trying to play the ball … it didn’t look like there was much in it, but maybe Tunza fell over that chin of his? The Broncos took the kick for goal (God knows why when they’re trailing 6-0, fools) and Michael Ennis slotted it for 6-2.

Mugshot for emphasis:

Neither team really played much entertaining footy, and the next passage went by fairly uneventfully until another penalty gave the Broncos good field position. A good run and a fancy step from Joel Moon, who by the way I have always found very attractive – even more so in the last few weeks with the shaggy mop of hair he’s been spotting. He’s his hair and wasn’t looking as good yet still went through the defence and scored. Broncos went in front 8-6, until the Tigers were awarded a penalty of their very own and tied it up at 8-8.

[Sassy: Agreed. Moon is still a contender for hottest bitch in league for 2008, but that haircut cuts me deep.]

I had thought it would stay that way going into half time, but oh, no. My Broncos decided that I wasn’t nearly stressed enough and needed a little bit more heartache after the siren, so they let the Tigers in to score. At half time Tigers were up 12-8, and this Queen B needed to head to the bar to down some more alcohol.

[Sassy: Course you did darlin. That's my girl]

Half time came, half time went, and I was still ridiculously wound up. The first 10 minutes or so back were intensely boring and I was completely occupied talking to the guy next to me when Brisbane’s Dave Taylor snatched a wayward Tigers pass out of nowhere and made an impressive 60 metres before being bought down by Bryce Gibbs.

AND WHAT A SIGHT IT WAS. A 185cm, 115kg Dave Taylor train thundering down the middle of the field. It’s probably further than the poor kid (he’s only 20) has run in his whole life. From the play the ball some good hands from Joel Moon to PJ Marsh, to Karmichael Hunt, to Darius Boyd, and finally on to Denan Kemp to run in a try in the corner of the field. All the while this was unfolding, exhausted Dave Taylor was still dying slowly from his 60 metre effort so was quickly replaced.

Ennis slotted the conversion from the sideline for a 14-12 score. Benji Marshall took the restart, and continued his completely awful kicking form for the night by kicking it out on the full. From the penalty restart on half-way the Broncos attacked, and Nick Kenny ran a brilliant angle to grab his maiden first grade try. He looked just like a kid in a candy store after the video ref gave the try, and Ennis missed an even easier conversion than the last to leave the score at 18-12.

Broncos looked the better of two mediocre teams for most of the second half. A Hunt grubber got the Broncos a repeat set before Nick Emmett got held up on his back. From that the Tigers went the length of the field with some luck to score under the posts. After conversion, the score was 18-all, and your Queen B’s nerves aren’t holding out real well.

12 minutes on the clock and this is all way too close for my liking.

9 minutes to go, still 18-all.

The Broncos are in attack but not really looking like scoring until a nice backline movement and some brut strength from Emmett got him over the line but held up. Emmett dead set thought he’d scored, it was hard to tell on the video replay, refs eventually said no try.

[Sassy: Ok, now even I'm finding this overwhelming and stressful]

8 minutes to go.

From Emmett’s play the ball, Karmichael Hunt sets himself deep and the ball is fired out to him. He is provided by good, yet somewhat illegal coverage from Corey Parker, and slots the field goal to put the Broncos 1 in front. Now if you saw Origin II and Hunt’s attempt at field goal then, you would be excused for thinking it could not possibly have been Hunt who slotted it right over the black dot from 30 meters out.

7 minutes to go.

Darius Boyd knocks on at dummy half and gives the Tigers field possession about 20 meters out. Tigers can’t do anything with the ball. John Morris misses a field goal to the left with 3 minutes to go and from there the Broncos do what they do best and close out the game.

The heart is still pumping, the nerves are still shot. But my boys got home and made for a great night out to celebrate my freedom!! Thanks boys, now please get it together for the Panthers next weekend!

- Bree

Monday night football! Oh, I’m so glad it’s back on tv now. This Monday my brave Roosters are taking on the … well, the not very lovable Tigers. I can’t think of any specific reason to dislike them, but somehow they are just a whole lot less likable now Scotty Prince has left (love you Scotty!) Clearly it was the Prince-Marshall lovematch that made them appealing.

This whole situation is not helped by all the close ups of Keith Galloway in the Tigers locker room. It’s so intense seeing a ranga in that Fanta skin-tight jersey. I don’t even know what I think anymore.

Over in the Roosters den of brilliance Braith Anasta’s hair is especially porcupiney and I like to think that means he’s feeling extra fiesty.

Big Willie Mason and David Shillington are snuggling on each other’s shoulders, and to be completely honest, it kind of makes me a little happy in my pants. There. I admit it. I am so ashamed.

Brandy Alexander and Beige Warren Smith remind me for about the EIGHTY-FIFTH TIME that Shillo will be leaving the chooks next year to go to Canberra and if they mention it again I swear I’m gonna cut a bitch. I’m heartbroken enough already.

Let me take a moment to explain: I love Shillo. Mainly this is because he is tres lovable.

Love that he always, always has his pants fall off his arse at at least one point during every game.
Love that when they introduce all the players at the Sydney Football Stadium with inspirational descriptions like ‘lean mean try-scoring machine, Shaun Kenny-Doowwwwwwell!’, his title is just: ‘Big David Shillington’. Heart.
Love that last Australia Day he got utterly blind and emerged from the pub bathroom to do a solo on the dancefloor dressed only in underpants, shoes, and an Australian flag. *
Love that he has such a little speaking voice.
Love most of all that he was the cake-decorating champion on the Footy Show.

Sigh. I shall miss you Big David. I suspect you’ll miss me too.

And of all the teams to sign him, the librarians of the NRL, Canberra. Boy can’t go pantsless down there in the cold. And is this signing even allowed? I thought they had an all-ranga policy now? It certainly looks like it. TAKE GALLOWAY INSTEAD!

Now I’m all upset. Anyway it’s a total bitch of a night, cold and rainy and kinda foggy, and I am ever so glad I’m home in my jammies instead of five minutes down the road contracting pneumonia (I love my boys but not that much). Oh, that reminds me, we may well miss some action about ten minutes in because I stupidly put a facial on, and you know you have to wash those motherfuckers off right on time or they completely solidify, immobilise your face and are a mission to wash off.

Outside in the chook pen we get a shot of a giant sign that just says:

WE’LL BEAT YOU WITH OUR COCKS

Chris Ferguson is that you!?

The Tiges hit the field with Brett Hodgson looking a worrying shade of grey as always. How can a professional sportsman look so beat down by life? He looks like he’s being granted his last wish: to play at the SFS with his idols. Thanks Starlight Foundation!

Thankfully a burst of smoke from the fancypants firework shooty things settles over the field so I can’t really see Nate Myles run on (DIRTY QUEENSLANDER!), but I do Big Willie’s beard. It’s looking extra groomed and boybandy tonight … there goes my ladyboner.

And we’re off! I totally miss the first set because that damn smoke is everywhere. It’s like they’re playing in soup. Let’s just assume nothing that exciting happens though.

Once the smoke clears it’s even harder to recap. Big Willie knocks on. Someone throws a dud pass. Anasta kicks a ball completely horizontally from the inside of his boot. Spectators cower in fear.

The Roosters are amazingly strong running from dummy half, and the Tigers are amazingly swift and wily in defence against fifth tackle kicks. DAMN YOU TIM SHEENS AND YOUR EFFECTIVE COACHING. Almost try! No try. Almost try! No try. We haven’t left the Tigers’ end in about twenty minutes but the Roosters just get rejected from the try line again and again and it’s all so very frustrating. I realise this must be how soccer fans feel all the time. No wonder the angry poms riot.

Great run from Amos Roberts for the Roosters, knock on to Perrett. I feel so rioty! I feel better when the camera cuts to Hodgson looking sadder and more decrepit than ever with lank little locks of hair flattened to his head by the rain. Crafty Lawrence scuppers another Roosters run at the try line.

FINALLY, praise christ, the Tigers make it into the Roosters’ end of the field. Why am I happy about this? I don’t know what I think anymore.

The rain gods ruin a great run from the Tigers on the left hand side – just as I’m yelling TACKLE YOU LAZY BASTARDS, Lawrence passes to no one. Hurrah! We get a fab centre-screen reminder that Willie Mason wears black Nancy Ganz under his shorts.

As I am on the verge of setting a foreigner on fire, little Mitchell Pearce shoots a brilliant pass to the right for Amos Roberts for a try, and battleaxe Craig Fitzgibbon converts. Go the baldies!

Five minutes later a brilliant pass from a mid-tackle, rapidly falling Anthony Tupou to little Mitch Aubusson a metre from the try line. And when he sees Starlight Hodgson coming in from the side, my clever little Aubbo darts between the goal posts to score and Starlight runs headfirst into the pole. DOESN’T HE HAVE ENOUGH TROUBLES ALREADY?

(Actually, that’s a lie. I don’t feel sorry for him at all. I actually laugh. I’m a bad person with a cold black heart).

Man o War Fitzgibbon converts but another five minutes in we have dramaz ahoy when the video ref takes a good four hours to review a maybe-try to Pearce. Is it a knock-on if it goes sideways? Is it? Really? No try. Bah.

After a brief halftime interlude, we come back to plenty more dramz: almost tigers try, dramaz in the midfield, dramaz on the sideline. Dramaz when Anasta bounces a pass right off Seitimata Sa’s head by accident and it goes dead. Keep it up, boys!

Robbie Farah takes a break from his hectic schedule of riding up and down Norton Street in his best mate’s car to score a try. A thousand Tigers fans celebrate. Boo hissss.

Little Mitch Aubbo makes a BEAUTIFUL break from an early Benji ‘dead to me’ Marshall kick and sets off downfield. He slaps off Bronson Harrison with his slappy little left hand (is that his name? Bronson? Did I make that up? Whatever), and kicks off Matthew Head from his leg like a humping dog.

Run Mitchy, run!

TRY! I do a little dance in my elk-print pyjamas. Mitch grins. Hugging abounds, and Mitchells Pearce and Aubusson take it straight into the realm of man-on-man love when Pearce snuggles Aubbo’s neck solidly for fifteen seconds. (I counted).

Oh hay, in other news, my ladyboner is back.

Armadillo Fitzgibbon converts.

In the next few minutes the Tigers are reprehensibly robbed of what is clearly a try by the video referee … for, I don’t even know what. IT WAS A TRY, DAMMIT. Tuiaki makes up for it with a heartwarming 70 metre run and sets up a Tigers try. Justice is done! Oh wait, except that then the world really begins to monsoon and Pearce knocks over a field goal.

19-10 Roosters win, fulltime.

Better luck next time, kids. Bring Scotty Prince with you when you come back.

Kind regards,
Sassy

* For photos of this event, please contact Kiki directly.