PEOPLE. For the last 24 hours we have all been far too distracted with opinions on the Great AFL Unpleasantness. If you were raised by wolves and missed it, according to the players in question the whole thing is kinda like when you have drunk pictures taken, slur ‘ZOMG THAT’S DISHGUSTING’, then your friend puts them on facebook anyway and tags you with a double chin and sweaty lank drunk-hair and because it goes up at like 11pm you don’t see it till the next afternoon and GOD KNOWS HOW MANY CRUSHES HAVE ALREADY SEEN THE PICS BY THEN.

Like that.

Except with more penis.

And the worst thing about this saga? … aside from the fact that it’s AFL and we don’t particularly know or care about anyone involved on either side?

It’s distracted us from our favourite new Christmas game: SPIN THE INGLIS WHEEL.

As their last task before Christmas, the dedicated Errol interns set up a mini wheel of fortune with pictures instead of dollar signs, so we can spin it while we drink lunchtime margaritas … and bet on it. It’s easy. You just shout out your guess for GI and if it comes up on the wheel, you get another margarita.

For today’s spin, no one’s guess was right. Not even my inspired guess that he would move to Bavaria and start a successful Bratwurst wholesale-mart. Instead, we got this single glorious picture, captioned ‘GI to AFL’:

… then we laughed so hard at the thought of GI leaping metres off the ground that margarita came out my nose. The only time I’ve seen Kiki laugh harder was that time I told her people at work asked me to join a touch footy team.

(If Israel Folau is reading, which, let’s be honest he probably is – Mormons love Errol – don’t worry darlin’, it’s ok if you giggled too).

See ya for the next spin, kittens!

1. Finally, and officially: he’s prettier than us.

Yes, I know it seems like this something we would’ve realised earlier. But one of the beautiful things about the game we call cricket is that bowlers spend most of their time at least several hundred meters from us, meaning we can delude ourselves into thinking that faceless blob out there shining the ball on his pants actually looks like the average human male.

On the internet, shit gets close. The truth is way harder to ignore when he’s right there on yo laptop.

via Test Match Special.

FYI, our Errol-friend Tooves informs me that is, in fact, cricket journo Jonathan Agnew’s wife copping a perve in the background. The woman has eyes, after all.

2. Apparently an ‘anonymous’ spinner also has opinions on Stuart Broad’s pretty:

I’ve often said to him, if he had a pair of breasts, I’d fancy him too. But generally I just want to punch him in the face. But you can’t reach.

Why does Graeme Swann feel the need to be ‘anonymous’ when he says this? NO JUDGMENT FROM US.

That bitch Broad is the Taylor Hanson of English cricket.

Broady: causing straight boys to question their sexuality since 2007. Who can blame ya, Swanny?

Thanks to the awesome TheChookPen for the photo heads up xx

And on the fifth day of Christmas

Oh Errol gave to me

STER-LO WITH HAAAAIR!

We admit it, sometimes Parramatta fans get the shits with us. And this special Parramatta-themed day of Christmas is kind of like an apology. It’s our way of saying sorry. We’re sorry your boys got fat for a little while there (the ‘Fattamatta’ posts, they were some good times). And we’re sorry that we said the Hayne Train thing where people rode a train in Jarryd Hayne masks was creepy … but that shit was just plain creepy.

So our gift to you is a kick-ass dressing room video of Peter Sterling with a flowing mane of golden hair singing the Parra team song after beating Newtown in 1981.

How much does he love singing? So much.

Are they some of the shortest shorts you’ve ever seen? Totally.

How much do you love the dude in the background in what look like huge beige undies? Sexy.

Is Sterlo drinking a beer while he’s singing? Of course he is.

More importantly DID A MINION IN A SUIT JUST BRING HIM HIS BEER? That’s livin’ the life, bitches.

And for those of you who don’t enjoy footy players from the 80s (who are you freaks?), here’s a gratuitous picture of Mitchell Johnson at the WACA looking so happy he’s about to burst into some musical theatre:

Pic: Getty Images

… and a video from that famous day back in 2008 when craig wing wore the pinkest pants in the history of mankind. Happy Friday!

First of all: have you been reading Kiki’s awesome 12 days of Christmas posts?

They’re the mental equivalent of getting a delicious advent chocolate every day … if advent chocolate had a centre made of hilarious and embarassing photos from Lowes catalogues. Go! Read! I’ll wait.

And now that you’ve spent a good twelve minutes trying to figure out what kind of man buys a three piece fuschia sheen-finish suit from Lowes, let’s talk about the fact that Sonny Bill Williams is back.

We will always remember you, SBW, as the first man to start an international NRL manhunt.

He’s also boxing again, apparently against a man named Scott who drives forklift for a living.

[Before you ask, no Sonny Bill, forklift drivers don't have a salary cap].

My only regret is that this time SBW didn’t make the announcement about his fight wearing a little beanie and sporting a spray tan like the last time. The good thing about it, though, is that I then got completely distracted thinking about Sonny Bill Feelings with his Dora the Explorer backpack and clever disguises in all our old Errol blogs and forgot for a little while that I have a horrifying new addiction.

English cricket blogs.

I wish I were kidding.

And I don’t mean, like, blogs with writing ‘n’ shit. This is a very specific addiction: Swanny’s Tour Diary.

The English Cricket Board decided to let Graeme Swann loose during the Ashes series with a video camera and access to both YouTube and the interwebs. And the other day I sat down and watched all five episodes of it. In a row.

But, but, they’re … English! They have horrible leather man-jewellery, and wear inappropriate sandals when they could just wear havaianas! Seriously, they’re English. And Swanny does lame embarassing shit like using the peace sign as a goodbye.

Yep, I know all this. Usually hating the poms (except Monty Panesar, cause he’s completely adorable) is one of my regular hobbies, but somehow those crafty bitches have sucked me in. Usually I wouldn’t even be able to watch 5 minutes of video this chock-full of rangas and substandard English dentistry … let alone five episodes of it. WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?

I haven’t had an MRI scan yet so I can’t rule out the possibility that I have some kind of tumour that’s pushing on a vital section of my brain and making me crazy, but while I was drinking my breakfast margarita this morning I came up with some other possible reasons for this new and unpleasant turn of events.

I’m thinking maybe it’s like Stockholm Syndrome. Maybe after watching the English team bat on and on for 8,000 runs over two Tests and what seemed like an interminable length of time I started to get used to them … like kidnap victims do. Whenever they showed a little kindness, like finally ending the slaughter and declaring, I got all grateful. Can that happen with cricket? I’m not a doctor, but I’m 99% sure it can.

Or, maybe, and this is the worst possibility of all … they’re just kind of likeable.

Like last week when Swanny and Jimmy Anderson put on a two-man homo skit involving Jimmy Anderson wearing a towel and running round with a bottle of massage oil. There’s nothing Aussies love more than some gratuitous cross-dressing or mates pretending to be couples.

There’s nothing wrong with being both informative AND interesting, Graeme.

Or the adorable interview with coach Mushi and his three-stripe Adidas beard:

I mean seriously, those massive dorks all did THE SPRINKLER at the end of that video. How am I meant to resist that? I’ve seen the latest Aussie cricket ads and we all know the only one on the team who’s even willing to dance is Doug ‘the Rug’ Bollinger … who then got cut from the team.

Look at him shaking his ass in his cricket whites. I miss him already.

And no wonder I’m all confused with my cricket team loyalties. How am I meant to support my national team if they won’t even dance like idiots on national television?

I’ve even started to get fond of tall, gangly Steve “most boring man in cricket” Finn and his ridiculous 1970s English public school boy haircut. I think I had Feelings when I realised he cut it off.

Think of this post as a cry for help: either Australia has to win this so I have something to gloat about to the backpackers down at Bondi, or I need a hobby.

If 100,000 people watch the next one, Alastair ‘Ceiling Eyes’ Cook plans to flash a nipple … and I don’t want to be responsible for that. Guess it could be worse. I could go for Queensland.

Have things been a little quiet around here? Not gonna lie, totally our fault. We’ve been busier than an *insert old man Aussie metaphor about flies or paper-hangers or something here*

But thankfully this week footy made a triumphant return (of sorts) into our lives: we hit up the NRL One Community Christmas party to at least get a little bit of an NRL fix. The party is basically a period of three awesome hours where a whole bunch of special kids and a handful of players from each of the Sydney clubs turn up to sit at kid-sized tables, probably share their opinions on the wikileaks scandal, eat kid-sized sandwiches, then play some mothereffin ten pin bowling.

Why is seeing footy players do non-footy activities so inherently hilarious? Because the second we saw Kade Snowden put his bowling shoes on we lost it.

But even while we’ve been slack with our writing, we haven’t stopped being inherently embarassing. We’re still us.

We arrived at the party in Christmas crowns and reindeer ears then proceeded to asked David Gallop what he wanted for Christmas and show Roy Asotasi photos of Kiki and her flattie Yasmin’s pet bunny … Roy Asotasi.

The resemblance is uncanny.

His first question was: “Why is he so … ginger?”

It’s a good question, Roy. And to be honest, I don’t have a good answer for you. I suspect it’s because none of us felt sure that it wasn’t kind of politically awkward, frankly, to ring up a bunny breeder and ask for a brown-coloured bunny so the girls could name it after a New Zealander with Samoan heritage. Is it? Who knows.

The bottom line is that Roy is a pretty little ginger, and Preston Campbell the bunny is a giant brown bunny that seriously dwarfs bunny-Roy.

To this, Roy said that he hopes Roy makes up for his small stature by being awesome.

And you also don’t have to worry, while we’ve been slack with our writing, we also haven’t gotten any more functional. Yesterday I left the Christmas party, realised I lost my parking validation ticket, had to pay a $40 lost fee, and was comforted by a nice old passing Hungarian man.

Looking back, maybe this is why I was subconsciously distracted and knocked a giant two-armed monitor stand of a desk as soon as I arrived in the building, then had to climb under a desk to attempt to reattach it while relative strangers held the monitors still. Sorry for wearing a skirt that day, y’all.

I also realise, looking back, that a flippy little floral skirt was a bad choice on one of the windiest days in history. Apologies to the people of Pyrmont to whom I showed my undies at least nine times.

I like to think I make up for all these mishaps by being awesome, like Roy Asotasi the bunny.

And while we were busy watching Anthony Watmough bowl like a professional (seriously, he’s really good) and the Tigers players eat all the sandwiches, the clubs have been busy with the start of pre-season training. Pre-season training is such a beautiful phrase. For one thing, it means it’s ALMOST FOOTY TIME AGAIN.

It also means it’s time for the annual NRL rookie camp, where they teach young boys how to play footy or be men … or something. We’re not really sure, and maybe we don’t want to know. All we really need to know is that it involves instructional powerpoint presentations like this:

At least, that’s what they did back in 2008. Maybe they don’t use the WHY TALENT IS NEVER ENOUGH … EVER slide anymore. Maybe the curriculum’s changed by now, and they have powerpoint slides telling the boys YOU WILL NEVER HAVE A GIRLFRIEND or YOU LOOK FAT IN THOSE PANTS. It’s just all about building confidence, you know?

But maybe best of all, this is the time of year when they make footy teams do embarassing things as a group all in the name of team bonding.

Pic. Gregg Porteous via News Limited

Well of course that’s Jamal Idris in an abseiling helmet. Of course it is. Because the Bulldogs were sent to Wombaroo to get their bond on. I totally went there for year six camp. I wonder if they had to spend a night out camping in tents and cook pasta with tinned tuna on a camp stove?

One things for sure, footy players always have to get in kayaks. It’s just maths:

2 men that weigh 100kgs + 1 flimsy plastic vessel designed for children = instant lolz.

Pic. Gregg Porteous via News Limited

Ahoy there Bryson Goodwin! Looking sharp.

Pic. Gregg Porteous via News Limited

That photo of Ben Barba is slightly less hilarious because it really freaks me out that the kayak behind is empty. Is anyone else getting some serious ‘The River Wild’ kinda flashbacks? Did Kevin Bacon kill the rest of the Bulldogs because they refused to lend him their rafting skills to escape from the law?

And in Canberra, Raiders management timed their comical bonding activites perfectly so Tommy Learoyd-Lahrs could do them with a moustache. Bravo, Canberra. Bravo.

Whenever I feel sad I’m gonng look at that picture and remember the fact that Dave Shilington and Brett White had to row a kayak together. Also, that Tommy LL gave a completely serious interview about how well he did in the flag-race.

Learoyd-Lahrs, though, wasn’t contemplating a switch to the Ironman circuit anytime soon.

”There wasn’t any great speed reached there,” he said.

”If you timed us with a sun dial it probably would’ve stopped.”

Footy, we miss you too, too much.

Thursday was annual White Ribbon Day, asking men to swear never to commit, excuse, or remain silent about violence against women.

The Kangaroos did it back during Four Nations:

… but there’s one more thing. Everyone’s favourite immortal oak tree of a forward, Petero Civoneciva, and his Panthers bro Luke Lewis are also official White Ribbon ambassadors this year.

And they didn’t just turn up to the White Ribbon breakfast at Parliament House for a free OJ: Luke Lewis spoke first hand about watching his mother suffer domestic violence.

… you could hear a pin drop amongst Sydney’s power set yesterday when Kangaroo forward Luke Lewis spoke out condemning violence against women.

In front of a room full of 200 people, he then outlined how his mother Sharon had also been on the receiving end of domestic abuse at the hands of an ex-boyfriend – and why taking a stand against it was so important.

So we just wanted to say thank you. Thanks to Luke Lewis for being honest showing us what a real man looks like.

White Ribbon Day was a sell-out but there’s always a way to support them – just go here, kittens. Regular occasionally-comical Errol progamming will resume tomorrow x

Boring story time: last week I was straight-up exhausted and generally feeling sorry for myself. So we went to see Harry Potter (seriously! so good!) and my friend Eddie brought me two separate home-made snack bags. One of barbecue shapes, and one of pick-n-mix lollies. PICK N MIX. IT’S EVEN BETTER THAN I REMEMBERED. HOW HAVE I NOT HAD THIS FOR SO LONG?

And in an attempt to ease the pain of the off-season here’s a little online pick’n'mix of footy goodness for you to enjoy. A little sweet, a little savoury.

It’s been a week since Greg Inglis settled in at Redfern and apparently while we were all busy talking about whether his skin tone suits red and green (June Dally-Watkins is yet to call me back), things got complicated. Our Errol-idol Russell Crowe went on Jay Leno to tell the world how awesome he thinks GI is, then the Storm got cold feet about granting his release, AND GI got a massive write up in Danny Weidler’s column on the weekend right next to a piece about Paul Gallen taking off his shorts. No one wants to open the paper and see their name next to a pantsless forward, do they?

End result is that Channel 9 news says Souths are worried about GI’s mental and emotional health. The uncertainty is making him upset n that. Well, they say uncertainty. I say moving is a bitch and almost drove me to a nervous breakdown too, so no judgment if he’s had a little cry lately. At some point you just open a cupboard you thought was empty, see a giant pile of clothes and want to die a little.

I guess now we all know why he’s looking so bulky lately. IT’S CAUSE HE’S FULL OF FEELINGS.

And that bit just under his sternum? Pretty sure if you look closely you’ll see that particular bit of feeling is what they call ‘remorse for a late-night service station pie’. I have that too.

Meanwhile the kids at Ad Sense have updated the newest Broncos NRMA ad, which, weirdly, we love.

When did this happen? All of a sudden seeing men in maroon schill NRMA insurance brings joy to our hearts. We can’t pinpoint exactly when we started finding the Broncos endearing, but it may have been the moment we saw Sam Thaiday shaking down a vending machine and Ben Te’o in an apron. Benny and his cake-trolley are welcome at Errol HQ any time.

You heard it here first: NRMA is now responsible for one of the first ever instances of anything good coming out of Queensland.

The only other non-hateful thing they have north of the border that I can think of right now is, of course, the Indigenous All-Stars game in February on the Gold Coast (based on an idea by Preston Campbell, not from Queensland).

They’ve announced the team list and – as expected- the Indigenous squad is a festival of awesome.

It includes fearless leader Preston Campbell, newbie Ryan James (not from Queensland) and his gorgeous silky mane of curls, Tom ‘the Hugh Jackman of rugby league’ Learoyd-Lahrs (not from Queensland), as well as Jamie Soward (not from Queensland), who seems to have grown a truly delightful moustache this Movember.

Sadly, we have at least another two months until All-Stars 2011 comes around. All we can think of to tide ourselves over is the prospect of a really good Ashes series, complete with Warnie’s new tv show, the new range of sweet retro green and gold cricket merchandise at Rebel Sport, and the vague possibility that Stuart Broad and Mitchell Johnson might bitch each other out again. REMEMBER WHEN THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED? AND WE MADE FUNNY JOKES ABOUT IT? Those were some good times.

Michael Clarke agrees.

Pics. Getty Images

You all know rugby league is our one true love. But dammit we’re only human. Remember last year when I may or may not have spent a good five days ranting on twitter about the many reasons to love Chris Gayle? Like, for instance, the fact that he’s both incredibly talented, and frequently fuck-off lazy? Every time he scores a lightning-fast century then just … gives up and gets out, my heart skips a beat. WHATEVS BITCHES, I SCORED A TON OFF TWELVE BALLS IN TWENTY MINUTES. I THINK I’VE PROVED MY POINT.

Pic. Getty Images

Well, cricket season is back, and that fierce bitch is fiercer than ever. He might even be scoring three hundred against Sri Lanka on my tv right now. Yep, someone must really have insulted him this time if he’s bothering to rack up a triple-century.Maybe it’s to make them regret booting him as Captain. Maybe he just feels like being especially awesome today. Who knows.

The main thing is that if rugby league wants to keep us interested, maybe it needs to up its game.

Cooper Cronk, yes I am looking at you. Maybe you should consider a white microfibre do-rag, a cheeky grin and some diamond studs?

Just sayin.

Love, Sassy.

This is so sad to write. You know we don’t usually like talking about league scandals just for the sake of it, but there’s an elephant in the room, and it’s named Joel Monaghan. Seems like Monas is leaving the NRL in the ickiest of circumstances, doing for the word “simulated” what Nate Myles did for “defecated”. All we can say is when we met him, Monas seemed like a genuinely good-hearted, hilarious guy and we think it was the most selfless and dignified option to think of his club instead of himself and leave the Raiders.

We’re getting John John to send him a good luck basket of gerberas and balloons and kisses from us all. And another one for T.Camps because God knows those two live in each others’ pockets like Kiki and I do.

And for everyone who keeps googling the story, you won’t find it here. Seriously. Not kidding. If we weren’t gonna post the infamous Wang Dance video, we weren’t gonna post this.

And the worst thing is, we can’t even distract you with posts about the game between PNG and the Poms on the weekend because we missed it. In our defence, THE BEST LITTLE WHOREHOUSE IN TEXAS WAS ON TV! Only one of the greatest films ever made, starring our idol Dolly Parton and that hairy-chested dreamboat Burt Reynolds. If you haven’t watched a whole Texan gridiron team linedance semi-naked or sing in a steam-room about seeing hookers, you haven’t lived.

Thank me later, y’all.

What we can do is give you a quick round-up of what Australia and New Zealand have been doing during and after their clash on Saturday night. Frank-Paul Nuuausala has discovered the joys of millinery:

And Flossy Nightingale … is still flossy.

Pics. Getty Images

The Kiwis debuted a slightly rusty club 12″ extended mix of the Haka to mixed reviews, Greg Bird continued to provide some of the mist hilarious facial expressions in rugby league history, Billy Slater and Tom Learoyd-Lahrs grew kick-ass mos, New Zealand foxed their way into a loss, and the fact that Brent Tate and Willie Tonga are the Australian centres continued to cause arguments in Errol HQ. At one point Work Experience Boy Lachie threw his jam bagel down in disgust and told us our constant arguing made him get distracted and miss Packed to the Rafters.

ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW IS DON’T TEXT AND DRIVE, LACHLAN.

Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have to go and compile our Very Important All-Stars teams for next year’s game. Wayne Bennett was interviewed and told everyone to try and “think like him” while they choose.

Now I’ve never met Uncle Wayne personally, but I’ve seen him having a chat and he seems like a pretty happy dude, so when he says think the way he does, I’m pretty sure it looks something like:

I’m totally voting for muppet Brett Morris.

Pic Kirk Gilmour

You will all be SHOCKED to know that the Errol girls weren’t invited to any marquees for Melbourne Cup this year. No Birdcage, no Emirates VIP section, no Myer tent. Nothing. We were invited to the Maroubra Bay Hotel for their special day via SMS, but were sadly unable to attend. Apparently Rob ‘Millsy’ Mills is good enough for Flemington but we aren’t. And that pretty much sums up our lives.

Luckily, we … um, well we kind of don’t like the races. We want to like the races: all the mental images of gorgeous men in grey morning suits buying you champagne and sitting on white wrought iron furniture, maybe horrifying some of the more traditional and genteel folk by wearing a skirt above the knee.

Our eternal thanks to the Daily Telegraph and their intrepid photographers for bringing this photo to the world.

But the reality … not quite so charming. It’s all bogans in flammable suits and Oakleys and walking spray tans getting their heels wedged in the grass. Why would we overpay to go to the races in the middle of the day when we could just get pissed with bogans at the greyhound races, after dark, on solid cement ground, wearing whatever we want?

It makes no sense! It’s nonsense!

We do have one thing to thank the horse races for: they invited the Australian Kangaroos to the drawing of the barriers and it was the few moments in the whole of this four nations tournament to make us smile (apart from Bodene Thompson in general, rrrrawr).

If you can look at Cameron Smith playing a horse-riding video game and not laugh, then you may well be dead inside.

Isn’t it sweet that, since he never actually made it as a jockey, they let Billy Slater hold the fancy-schmancy number hats? HE LOOKS SO HAPPY.

Although, on second thoughts, it’s possible that it doesn’t take much at all to make Billy Slater happy. He also looks happy while crushing England’s spirits:

Catching footballs:

AND playing water polo like a joyful spaniel:

In fact, the only thing he doesn’t look happy doing is practising his Broadway high kicks. This is not a surprise, because high kicks are serious goddamn business. You mess that up? Someone loses an eye. YOU WANNA END UP WEARING AN EYE-PATCH, KIDS? DO YA?

Wait, what was my point? I got all distracted doing a kick-ball-change holding an imaginary tophat.

I think it was that the Four Nations game between the Kangas and England was straight up depressing, despite Tom Learoyd-Lahrs sporting a hilarious 90s Backstreet Boy-esque moustache. And it wasn’t just because of rain-related fumbles or the completely INSANE video ref decisions, or even the fact that we all knew Australia was going to smash it in. This poor little English backs had nothin’ against the Australians.

(Wonder if England ever stops and despairs that every time they invent a sport and export it to the colonies, the colonials end up being better at it.)

It’s just not fun seeing Australia play that far below their best. It’s not a spectacle, is it? There was a decided lack of magic. And Luke Lewis played out of his skin but that doesn’t help us now he’s injured. All we have left is Fierce Bitch Cooper Cronk, who also got some shit done on Sunday night.

ALL HAIL HIS FIERCENESS.

And if you’re feeling a little tipsy, tired, or just plain blue, we would like to recommend you head over to the England Rugby League site and watch their video summary of the four nations team hosting a skills and drill day for schoolkids in Eden Park in New Zealand.

Tony Clubb saying “I’m still young” when he is clearly 45 in human years? Every man and his dog making fun of Luke Robinson for being tiny like a tiny teddy? Sam Burgess getting squirted in the ear with water by what I’m 99% sure is Robbie Farah? IT’S CHAMPAGNE TELEVISION.

Now bring on Australia vs New Zealand. Team Kiwi!

All Kangaroos pics: Getty Images