Sup, newbies! If you haven’t been reading Errol for more than nine months because, you know, you were pregnant/in prison/still learning how to turn on the ‘puter, then you will be shocked to know you’ve missed out on three whole years of State of Origin posts.
Three long, long years of us writing totally biased posts in which we gloat about Queenslanders getting hit in the face and talk about how sad/drunk we had to get after each successive Origin loss.
So to get you kids up to speed, we’ve picked out some of our favourite ever Origin posts, from 2008 through to 2011, including at least one that Kiki had to write with a cast on her right arm because she broke it running across Oxford St to get to a gay club. True story.
Happy Origin season, Errol-ers! It’s pretty much our favourite time of the year … well, aside from the week when they start releasing naked charity calendars just before Christmas. Is there anything funnier than dudes posing naked while looking serious? No, no there is not. Please see here for proof. And just like we do during Pervy Calendar-mas, this week we will be celebrating hard.
Next to the legalised on field brawls, the best thing about Origin is the fact other NSWelshpeople start sledging Queenslanders as much as we do in our regular lives. Retweeting people burning Queensland and it’s residents never gets old. EVER! It’s eternally awesome like Freddy Fittler’s is-he-drunk-or-what sideline giggles. Also, people create Facebook groups like this: “The only good thing to come out of Queensland is a road to NSW“
Luckily for us, even though we now have full time jobs in sport (we know, we can’t believe people hired us either) our jobs don’t require us to do any work at Origin. This is mainly because no one wants us too close to the Queensland team in case we kick someone in the shins by “accident”, injure a maroons player and start an inter-state incident. Also, employing lawyers to deal with the restraining orders is more expensive than you’d think.
This also gives us plenty of time during Origin season to drive around with the windows down sledging people in maroon clothing. IF QUEENSLAND’S SO GOOD WHAT ARE YA DOING DOWN HERE?
But let’s talk Origin prep.
For one thing, we have not one, but two, sky blue nailpolishes to choose from on Wednesday. At the moment, we’re thinking we’ll put the decision off until Wednesday morning to make sure we pick the one that matches our outfit best.
And up in Queensland, the enemy have been preparing for the big match at Lang Park (Suncorp, WHATEVER. It’ll always be Lang Park to us) by … grapevining?
It’s not just us, that is a grapevine, right? Cause it looks uncannily like the arm movements Intern John John does when he’s “feeling fat” and wants to burn extra calories on his trips to the work kitchen. We see you Dane Nielsen! Don’t pretend you don’t love it!
And of course Johnathan Thurston is loving it sick. If there’s one thing we learnt on the footy show last week, it’s that JT loves nothing more than a spontaneous dance break. Remember this? Yep, that boy is good at three things: dancin’, playin’ footy, and standin’ with his mouth open. He’s already done two of those this week, and if our plans to drop an anvil on him tomorrow at the Maroons team hotel come off, he won’t be doing the third.
We’re thinking of painting a picture of Dave Williams on it as a pin-up girl, you know, like the bomber planes in WWII. And next to him it’ll say like “… this is for kicking me in the face, Johnny!”
Sammy’s got his own personalised program from the Queensland personal trainer: tone up without losing your curves!
You know who you don’t see in those photos, though? Cooper Cronk. That fierce bitch is nowhere to be seen, and surprisingly, it’s not because he’s busy having his nails filed into points for the big game or telling noisy teens on public transport to ZIP IT.
And even though Billy Slater’s been doing his best to channel the Fierce, we still noticed.
When you think about it, it’s pretty obvious really. While Billy does his best Cooper Cronk impression (see how he tucked his shirt in! it’s all about the styling), the real thing has clearly put his foot down and refused to have any part in this team-photo plaid-shirt boot-scooting uniform fuckery. We all know he’s a well-dressed dude, and apparently he cares not for taking part in group activities where the outfits make you look like you should be handing out menus and refilling empty Coke glasses, saying “welcome to the Outback Steakhouse”.
But while the Queenslanders have been preparing for some kind of boot-scooting Origin face-off (bad choice, by the way, NSW would totally win. We have TAMWORTH, y’all) the Blues have been getting their James Bond on.
Look how schmick they look! As our hero Jack Donaghy from 30 Rock always says, “you’ve got to dress for success!”. Followed by: “That’s why I sponsor a charity that gives away tuxedos to homeless people”. What a dude. Our boys are bringing the sexy back to Origin. Mainly, because of the sweet suiting. But also because they all have tiny locks of Matt Cooper’s ratstail sewn inside their suits.
And to all the people who suspect that the Blues can’t match the Maroons in sweet dancin’ moves, we say:
a) have you MET Akuila Uate? If you have, he was probably dancing at the time. He’s like rugby league’s answer to Seaweed from Hairspray.
and b) Jamie Soward can angry dance the hell out of the music in his head. Exhibit A:
We’re feeling pretty damn confident that when it comes to the dance-off portion of this year’s Origin (crew againzt crew! No rulez! Street-style!) the boys in blue will do us proud.
Oh, also, when it comes to the game. How do we know this? Because Kiki – and this is a direct quote – feels it in her waters. Which is EXACTLY what Glenn Lazarus said, too. You can’t argue with a skinny-legged blogger and the man they call the brick with eyes. Up the blues!
It’s been a few weeks between drinks but here’s the deal: the ladies are kicking arse. So much so, that my brother texted me the other day to say “Broncobaby is annoyingly good at tipping”. Why yes, yes she is. Much love to the ladies (and the very few dudes) who are chillin’ in the Errol top ten:
But also … better watch your backs, bitches. After some ABYSMAL early rounds, I am climbing my way back to the top, round by round.
Muahahaha! Stay tuned for heaps more Origin goodies in the next few days x
Oh, how I’ve missed you Errol-ers. I remember the carefree days of regular blogging, mocking sportsmen far and wide and telling embarassing personal anecdotes whenever I felt like it. But lately, things have been a little … demoralising.
My noble employer has decided to turn One HD from a sports channel to a general entertainment channel, which is actually kind of awesome since it means we get wicked awesome shows like An Idiot Abroad and Sons of Anarchy. But let’s just say that dealing with irate members of the public abusing you via the twitter and the Facebook and threatening to send in bombs to the office (that really happened) can put a dent in a girl’s inspiration to write footy blogs.
Although it did teach me fun facts, like there are at least 8 people on Twitter who want a dedicated A-League show on free-to-air TV, and that, often, people are straight-up nuts. Good to know.
The other thing that can get a blogger mighty depressed is OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME ROOSTERS? Losing to the Sharks at Shark Park is the worst kind of loss. It’s embarassing, it bodes badly for the rest of the season, and it proves that even my successful Nathan Gardner voodoo doll isn’t enough to save my team.
No wonder Nate Myles is leaving to go to the Titans. Up there it’s all sunshine and Jamal Idris and children’s tv, back in Bondi it’s driving Todd Carney to AA meetings and drowning your sorrows at the Maccas near Tom Ugly’s bridge after you lose to Cronulla.
But just when I hit the lowest point and was fighting the urge to put on a snuggie and eat a wheel of cheese as big as my head Liz Lemon-stylez … Mal Meninga inspired me.
But the big story was 25-year-old Nielsen, who has only racked up 42 first grade games since his 2008 NRL debut before getting the Origin call.
Nielsen comes in for Inglis who is expected to be ruled out for up to a month after again injuring the hip that required pre-season surgery.
North Queensland-bred Nielsen looked overawed facing the huge media contingent in Brisbane on Tuesday but Meninga had no problem throwing him into the Origin deep end.
Asked what Nielsen could offer the side, Meninga said: “He’s a proud Queenslander.”
OH NO YOU DIDN’T MAL. YOU DID NOT JUST SAY YOU PICKED NIELSEN FOR HIS QUEENSLAND SPIRIT. As opposed to, oh say … his footy skills?
Apparently in Queensland, pride in your State is the footy equivalent of how mums suddenly get super-strength so they can lift their four-door Yukon SVUs off their squished babies in a Walmart carpark. (Why does that only happen in America, by the way?)
Forget about 15 years of training and dedication and footy education, all you need is pride! Queensland spirit conquers all!
And just like that, I was revived by how irritated Queenslanders make me!
Although I do have to give massive props to Mal for his team selection in general.
1. I find Dane Nielsen’s curly hair completely adorable. If he wasn’t a dirty Queenslander I’d travel back in time to 1993 and put an A4 poster of him from TV Hits on the back of my bedroom door like I used to do with JTT.
Boilers still got it, ladies!
2. Petero! I just like seeing that ole Oak tree out on the field. It reminds me of the time he and Steve Price were bunkmates in the ‘Boiler Room’ and I lol to myself every time.
3. Corey Parker and his AussieBum undies are a fine, fine addition to any team. I assume that the little sewing minions at AB are whipping up a range of Maroon undergarments and speedos for him as we speak. If you’re not sure on the size, maybe just go ahead and assume he wears his speedos like Chris Heighington wears his jerseys … circulation-threateningly small. The ladies and gays of Queensland will be grateful, at least.
4. A+ for effort and improvement on the legitimacy front. Well, mainly it’s probably just the result of bad luck and coincidence. But for whatever reason, the Maroons is now almost entirely made up of men from Queensland. Hurrah! GOLD STAR FOR YOU GLEN COCO. YOU GO GLEN COCO.
And how do you properly pay tribute to this new team of authentic Maroons? By introducing them under a blue spotlight to old-school 90s classics like Jump Around by house of Pain. Oh yessss. If you missed the Queensland team announcement, Imma recap that shit for you, because I think it may be just about as hilarious as that time Nips Farah and Sam Burgess were on Ready, Steady, Cook!
We open on a dimly lit Brisbane conference room. Chairman of selectors Gene Miles says stuff that is boring. He then tells us that the first player named for the Maroons squad will be Billy ‘Pony Club’ Slater.
Birry saunters out and is hit by a crazy blue spotlight as the speakers start blasting a sweet 90s mix of “Whoomp! There is is” AND “Pump Up the Jam”. Did he pick it himself? I like to think so. He carries a little cardboard sign saying ‘Billy Slater’ up to the stage and some girl who is obviously the Queensland Origin version of Adriana Xenedis takes it and puts it in a little slot on the stage backdrop.
Ooh, drama! It’s like Wheel of Fortune! Can I have an ‘M’ for Meninga, please Tony Barber?
Darius Boyd comes out to ‘Raise some hell’ and Dane Nielsen gets P!nk. Huh. Gene reads all the names so sceptically. Like there’s an implied IF THAT’S REALLY YOUR NAME after every person. The [alleged] Willie Tonga comes out and they forget to press play, so he just walks to the stage to give Adraiana his card in silence, then sits in his little seat for a few seconds while we finally get to listen to the intro to House of Pain ‘Jump Around’. Not gonna lie, I enjoyed it.
Jharal Yow Yeh rocks out to the Black Eyed Peas ‘Pump It’. And by ‘rocks out’ clearly I mean ‘walks quickly and nervously while looking at the ground and possibly blushing’.
Finally, the grande dame of Queensland footy Darren Lockyer emerges and it’s time for The Final Countdown. Seriously? I don’t even know. When I try and remember what it looked like all I can see it this:
Hey, do you guys remember the 90s trance-dance-techno hit Here’s Johnny? Well hello there Jonathan Thurston!
Matt Scott! Guns n Roses! More Queenslanders! And what song could suit Cam Smith better than Macho Man?
From now on, he shall be known as ‘The Cop’ … or ‘The Biker’. Depending on my mood. There’s totally a resemblance, right?
No Birdy, that’s not a dig at moustaches. Yours is pretty much our favourite thing in footy right now.
Petero is Bad to the Bone. Sam Thaiday gets Bad Boys. This is all so weird I can’t even explain it. The weirdest thing is that they didn’t pick either ‘Gimme More’ OR ‘Barracuda’ for Cooper Cronk. Big mistake. Huge.
I make all my coworkers watch it approximately five times. We realise Nate Myles is accidentally spelled NATE MILES on his little card.
I know, right?
Sometimes, I think Queenslanders do this shit on purpose to amuse me. The XXXX / spelling jokes write themselves, people!
And just as I start to worry that with the addition of Corey Parker, the Queensland team will be almost as adorable as my boys in blue, I snap back to my senses.
Even our 18th man is slightly oversized, often confused and completely lovable like a labrador puppy. If labrador puppies had sweet dance moves.
Aaah we love our boys. And the rest of you, get back to us at the end of July and we’ll start back up where we left off, yeah?
So one of your favourite things about Errol is our delightful and unabashed bias, right? But you know we are almost always right. So believe us when we tell you how fabulous Full Credit Originals is.
Yes it is founded and designed by our super special Errol friend Yasmin so obviously we are going to think it’s awesome but as you can see above…IT REALLY IS!
To celebrate her swishy new website and adorable Winter collection the lovely Yasmin is having a Twitter competition. You can win your very own Full Credit piece! For freeeeeee!
Now click this link to read all the details and enter immediately. It’s what Errol himself would want.
Before we get started, if you’re into reading and shit, I just finished reading Bossypants by Tina Fey and it’s DELIGHTFUL. She’s funny and clever and self-deprecating and tells stories about how awesome Alec Baldwin is. I felt smarter just reading it.
Also, I read it on kindle which is one of my favourite things to do, because I feel like I’m living in the future.
And if you’re into people in armour and all things nerdy, am currently obsessed with Game of Thrones. If I have to go to prison for illegally downloading, I would like it to be for this show.
But I promised a Coachella post, and dammit if I won’t deliver!
Are there some bits I don’t want to tell you about? Perhaps there are. I do some really embarassing stuff, so I like to limit the amount I put on here to just the highlights, like the time I accidentally SMS-ed Ryan Girdler, or the time I woke up with leaves in my hair.
And are there some things I don’t remember? Perhaps there are. Sometimes a girl just needs to cut loose, you know?
As for the rest of it, here goes.
1. THE CLICHES ARE TRUE
The last few times I’ve been to LA I’ve stayed in Santa Monica and spent my time tooling around on 1970s low-rider bicycles down to Venice Beach, buying friendship bracelets from the nutters on the boulevard, and eating onion rings with margarita chasers.
This time when we stayed in LA, we crashed at the Roosevelt in Hollywood and the LA cliches were all Right There. Lauren Conrad walking through the lobby! (perfect hair and super super skinny legs in leather leggings). Samantha Ronson bowling in the Spare Room! (she looks like you’d think she looks). Billy Zane at the next table over at the Chateau Marmont! (he’s kind of bloated and dresses like a Central American drug trafficker). David Beckham coming to the hotel for lunch!
I don’t get a ladyboner for Becks but I will say that in profile he is one of the most objectively beautiful men I’ve ever seen. Like Jared Leto. Like you could lick that face. It’s the same way I feel about Diane Kruger.
I saw Becks in his button-down shirt and a beanie and sunnies, but apparently when he pulled in to the driveway to give his car to the valet he was wearing an insane shiny black plastic wig over his hair.
I don’t know if this makes me vain, but I think I would rather get caught on camera by TMZ than look like this.
Meanwhile next time I stay there I’m challenging Samantha Ronson to a bowl-off because I am REALLY GOOD AT IT. Who knew? Add it to the list of reasons people assume I’m a massive lez. Right under ‘wears flannies and tracksuit pants from Lowes’, ‘played softball in year eight’ and ‘loves footy’.
Turns out – like most things – bowling is more fun when you can do it while drinking. Also CHECK MAH SWEET RENTAL SHOES.
2. YOUR GEOGRAPHY TEACHER WAS RIGHT
So on day two we picked up our car and discovered … it wasn’t there. You know when you book a car for 10am? Well in America, bitches better turn up at 10am, or they give it to someone else. Why? Who knows. It’s a mystery, like why you tip the person who brings your bags to your room, but you don’t tip the guy who brings your rental car round from the lot. They’re both JUST DOING THEIR JOBS. WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE? IF I’M NOT MEANT TO TIP EVERYONE JUST GIVE THEM BADGES OR SOMETHING SO I KNOW ALREADY.
The point is you will end up driving the only car they have left, which will be an eight seater Yukon the size of a regular 2 bedroom apartment, on the freeway out to Palm Desert. And you had better not have spent the night before drinking absinthe cocktails and dancing in Hemmingways like I did, or it will be one of the most painful days of your life.
As for Palm Desert, it has lots of old people and golf courses and resorts and flamingos. So it’s kind of like … Florida without the ‘gators. And the desert in general … is really really hot. So hot you want to weep. Mrs Pizzinga was right.
3. MY ST GEORGE BANK TELLER WAS RIGHT
Two days before I left Sydney I poodled on into the bank to get some american dollars so the LAX cab driver wouldn’t yell at me again for trying to pay for my ride with a creddie. The dude asked where I was going, then told me “one of the other tellers went to Coachella. He said it was a …. loose occasion”.
Judging by this photo, I was so worried about the loose occasion, I considered hiding my possessions, prison-style.
Jason obviously knows his stuff, because Coachella is pretty much powered by medicinal marijuana, and acid is apparently back in fashion. Which means there are no aggro drunk guys in watermelon helmets, but lots of stoned people who might accidentally catch your hair on fire. You win some, you lose some.
4. DON’T TRUST A SEAMAN
Thanks to the lovely and generous Anella from EMI, we wrangled some VIP passes for the festival. And can I just say … those VIP bitches have it sweet.
In the 38 degree desert heat, the VIP sections have grass, no lines for booze, an air-conditioned bar, special fans to mist you with cool water, not to mention amazing celeb sightings like Alexa Chung, one of the Clarins sisters, Prince, Paul McCartney, Daria Werbowy, Dan Patch and Gale Harold from Hellcats, McLovin, Ke$ha, and I can’t exactly remember the rest.
I do remember seeing Pacey from Dawson’s Creek though, and I may lost my shit a little. I am so uncool.
If you need us, we’ll be by the taco stand. Mmmmm mexican.
But it’s not all fun and taco stands. I learned that you might make friends with a crazy bartender who looks like Gary Busey dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and a captain’s hat, but just cause he tells you you’re pretty doesn’t mean he’s not ripping you off $4 every drink. To think I tipped that guy! Screw you, seaman!
5. AUSSIES GOTTA STICK TOGETHER
So many of the bands were so, so good. The Strokes are once again awesome, Sleigh Bells blew my mind, Kanye was incredible until he started playing chariots of fire and being a douchebag, Robyn was a dance-party-extravaganza and so was Chromeo, Bright Eyes and the National (I only saw a few songs) were heartbreaking, Alison Mosshart from the Kills is the hottest bitch ever, Cold War Kids are really good at festivals, but two of my faves were the little Aussie bands.
America is in love with Cut Copy and the Presets and they both killed it. Well done, Aussie boys!
6. MILK WAS A BAD CHOICE
Ferris wheeeeel!
So here’s how the story ends: after the third day and night of the festival, we trekked home, slept, got up and got ready to pick up our car (on time) and head back to LA. About halfway up the freeway I felt a little woozy, then a little nauseated. I announced that maybe it might, you know … be kind of a good idea to pull over, at some point, just anywhere that’s convenient, if …. OH MY GOD PULL OVER NOW NOW NOW I’M NOT GONNA MAKE IT.
Of course on a freeway driving on the wrong side of the road pulling over isn’t that easy.
Which is how I ended up puking chocolate milk into an empty paper Starbucks bag in the passenger seat of a Chevy somewhere outside Palm Springs.
Ron Burgundy was right, I really really regret buying that delicious refreshing chocolate milk.
Like Elton John, the Bitch is back. Did you miss me? I can only assume you spent the last eight days in the corners of your bathrooms, rocking gently and moaning ‘Sassy’ … yes? Thought so.
In Northern England this is how they say NEVER LEAVE ME AGAIN. Men of few words.
Meanwhile apparently footy got at least 80% more fabulous and 45% more scandalous while I was gone.
I turn my back for seven days and Todd Carney is out with (alleged) assaulter Anthony Watts, getting his (alleged) drink on and (allegedly) denting the very slim hopes NSW have of actually winning an Origin series again. Why are the brilliant always so blighted by scandal and misfortune? He may have the face of that little dude on the MAD magazine covers, but in reality, Todd Carney is the Robert Downey Jr of the NRL. Oh, Ro.Ju. If only I could import him to give his special brand of wise and slightly sarcastic brand of hard-earned life advice and help Todd sort his shit out.
Sadly, Ro.Ju was not one of the 96 celebrities we spotted in LA, so that’s not gonna happen. Instead, I’m planning to do the next best thing, which is to chase Todd out of Coogee – because God knows nothing good EVER happens in Coogee – and force him to sit through the classic ‘Only You’ starring Marisa Tomei and Robert Downey Jr while we talk about our feelings. Possibly with a ‘Heart and Souls’ chaser. If that doesn’t help him turn his life around and avoid getting the sack, nothing will. Am I right?
Of course it doesn’t help that while I was dealing with the knowledge of Todd’s suspension – excuse me for a second while I wipe my tears – I was also dealing with Jharal Yow Yeh running through the Tigers’ defence at the SFS like a windy little maroon freight train.
He might as well have been wearing a blinking neon sign saying ‘THE FUTURE OF QUEENSLAND ORIGIN’ while he taunted me with his flashy step and nifty hands. Sigh.
On the other hand, Sam Thaiday might as well have been wearing a giant neon sign that said ‘LOLZ’, because he spent at least 66% of that game arguing with the referee, and there is nothing funnier than an outraged Sam Thaiday. Especially since his new haircut kind of makes him look like a man wearing a puffy ladies shower cap.
Except maybe shirtless Sam Thaiday squatting in front of a palm tree.
Wanna make something of it, bitches?
And down at Brookvale, Steve Matai did everything but wear a sign saying ‘OH HAY LET’S DANCE.’
Can I get a MA-TAI?
… OH YEAH THAT JUST HAPPENED.
Who knew this is what happens when the Matai scores a double?
Imagine the frenzied worm he would’ve busted out if the ball hadn’t headed to Wang Man Robbo and he’d managed to grab the third try.
But by far the worst thing that I missed on holiday was the dire situation over at Errol Tips. Obviously I’m feeling super party times that Suzi Firth, Bingle and the crew are in the top ten. (And check out Kiki lookin all smug!)
But then I remember …. Hoppo. Lifeguard Hoppo, who teases us mercilessly about everything, has cracked the top ten. THIS CANNOT CONTINUE. This is the same man who always alerts the helicopters when I go swimming and tells them to look out for migrating whales.
In his kids’ colouring books, Hoppo captions this ‘Sassy’
So, old man Hoppo, much as we love and respect you, and even though our parents taught us to always respect the elderly … you’re going down. It is my personal mission to beat him in 2011 footy tipping. Are you with me, kids?
But more importantly, I think I might’ve been a little jetlagged, because yesterday I passed out and didn’t wake up for twelve hours, missing two – count ‘em, TWO – valuable games of footy. What did I miss?
SO MUCH FOOTY NEWS. Jamal’s going to the Goldy, and Uncle Wayne’s going to Newcastle … allegedly for the princely sum of $6 million. Can you imagine how many Henny Penny chicken rolls that buys?
As for Jamal: on one hand, the Titans biggest worry isn’t the centres … is it? (hint: no)
But on the other hand, JAMAL’S GETTING A TV SHOW. This is one of the most brilliant footy initiatives we’ve ever heard. It’s right up there with Indigenous All-Stars.
The giant human teddy will be following in the hallowed footsteps of such other tv luminaries as Malcom-Jamal ‘Theo Huxtable’ Warner from the Cosby show, and the classic C Bear and Jamal starring Tone Loc.
Yes, you heard that right. There are clips on YouTube and everything. Tone Loc is a multimedia superstar.
As for tipping superstars – Earl Hickey won round five, which leaves the overall leader board looking a little like this:
ps I’m coming 82nd. Shut up.
But what I’m hoping is that not seeing any footy for a week will somehow help my tipping (it can’t make it any worse). Because I’ll be here:
for the next week, dancing embarassingly and talking loudly in an Aussie accent and generally having holiday partytimes. So your tipping update will be a little late next week, but I’ll be tweeting from LA and Coachella if American phone networks let me and Kiki’ll be manning the Errol footy updates with help from John John and his hotpants.
Leave a comment if you have a cute American boy to set me up with / a killer idea for Jamal’s new TV show / requests for LA photos or updates.
It’s heritage round! And to celebrate the rich and wonderful past and the mighty clashes and rivalries of rugby league, we played more rugby league. In different jerseys. Trust me, it’s more awesome than it sounds, okay?
The NRL club were criticised following Saturday’s clash with Manly at Toyota Stadium, with complaints fans had to wait for up to 40 minutes in the refreshments queue only to find there was nothing left to buy.
Well, I assume we’re talking about beer. Because I’ve met Australians before, and I am 99% sure no one would bother complaining about a few bottles of Coke Zero. Except maybe John Cartwright, and he openly admits he has a problem.
To quote international hot mess and general life-icon Amy Winehouse, WHAT KIND OF FUCKERY IS THIS? If people wanted to wait in long queues to receive nothing, they would go to that post office next to Technology Park, also known as ‘where efficiency goes to die’. Perhaps this is why it took Manly so long to lock that shit down.
On the other hand:
There was also a brawl between supporters towards the end of the game that led to a police officer injuring his ankle.
… and no one is surprised. Wouldn’t you riot if you were there at Shark Park? They closed down the Red Rooster there. I rest my case.
In other news, most footy analysts would say that the Dah-rius Boyd starred for the Dragons on Sunday, what with his great ball-running and bamboozling of defence and intercept tries and whatnot, but I think we all know the real winner here is one Hot Bitch Cooper.
Obviously the winner is also the mob of spectators who got to watch a team of men play in the rain in white shorts. But in terms of actual players, it’s Hot Bitch Cooper.
You see, Hot Bitch is like a vintage Dior fur. Mainly, because he stops the senseless slaughter of innocent minks.
But also, because he just gets better with the passing years. He’s a rampaging, try-scoring, defensively brilliant centre with the legs of some kind of super-hot ancient deity. The kind Greeks carved statues of. Also, the kind perves on the internet talk about even though it’s totally creepy. Cough. (In my defence – what else is the internet for?)
Jamal salutes the past by tying his pigtails with strands of Terry Lamb’s hair
This is as opposed to the Bulldogs, who got straight up carved up. That’s a technical term. You can decide for yourselves whether this was a last-ditch attempt to lure Wayne Bennett to Canterbury next year (the man wants a challenge, after all) or whether Andrew Ryan, Kris Keating and Jamal Idris all suffered sever head injuries at Belmore during the week impairing their spatial awareness and decision-making faculties. Flip a coin, if you like. Either way, Kris Keating will now spend the rest of his career being heckled about intercept tries. At least he’s got Brett Kimmorley around to coach him. Convenient.
Thanks to a severe lack of Foxtel I missed the Melbourne Storm game, but based on the feedback from Twitter, the most important point about the game was that Matt Duffie is adorable. No objections from us.
But we do want to give a special Errol prize (hint: the prize is inappropriate groping) to Adam Woolnough for growing the finest Heritage Beard this side of the Great Dividing Range.
Put that man on a fixed gear bike in a flannel shirt and he would be fighting off the ladies and causing hipster boners all the way across Surry Hills. Who doesn’t have a weakness for a bench player with a pioneer beard?
I also, by sheer coincidence, got forwarded an online petition this morning from one Mr. C. Cronk requesting signatures to support his bid to have CRONK in gold lettering across his back for all 26 rounds of the regular season. I totally signed it, because that would be fucking sweet.
And the Errol stamp of disapproval for the round goes to the Newcastle Knights for not using Heritage Round as a perfect excuse to bring back Henny Penny as jersey sponsors. That happy little Henny Penny logo is one of the defining memories of the Knights from our youth (along with Joey and the Chief) and we wants it back. Make it happen, Nathan Tinkler!
Some might call that a gratuitous video of men in speedos and Tina Turner … we call it ‘heritage’.
Sometimes, you get a chance to make rugby league your bitch. This week, our girl Louza Belle did it. PERFECT ROUND! She tipped 8/8 in a champagne effort and is currently charging up the overall competition leaderboard. Which, as of Tuesday, looks a little bit like this:
Rock on, ladies-whose-names-begin-with-L.
Meanwhile, also on the winners podium this week is the man the This Week in League boys like to call ‘The Ottoman’, in loving tribute to his impressive dimensions. Even though he is cruelly and consistently overlooked for a starting spot in first grade, he will be PLAYING FOR ITALY IN THE WORLD CUP.
I would include a picture, but, he wasn’t at the press call. Oh, Joel. Fear not though, this is clearly his first step on the road to international stardom. Just think of the superstars before him who got their start in Italy – sometimes Italy just Gets It, you know?
Stars like Sofia Loren:
Stars like Megan Gale:
TANTI AUGURI, I’M MEGAN GALE!
Next stop: a Joel Romelo David Jones contract. Trust.
And of course, sometimes there are weeks where life just makes you its bitch.
“I’m slowly getting there, as you can see I’m still pretty pale,” he said.
Which sounds like exactly the kind of embarassing, traumatic and awkward thing that would happen to Kiki. Chin up Joely! We love ya even though you’re pasty!
I know, right?
kiki
sassy
lozzy
interns
