footy observations: nostradamus and shaking hands

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