DAMN THESE VANCOUVER OLYMPICS. Is there no end to the torment they want to put me through?

First of all we had to endure at least eight weeks of endless Foxtel ads for the Olympics, featuring – for some completely unknown reason – Michael Buble all sweaty and gross and dishevelled, wearing  a hockey shirt, and telling us all to come experience ‘his Canada’ while some godawful one of his pop-swing songs plays in the background.

It actually got to the point where I started hearing Buble crooning ‘I just haven’t met youuuuu …. yet!” in my dreams. Friends, Michael Buble songs are only good for one thing: and that’s for giving to your aunty on CD as a Christmas present. I don’t like him in my tv, or in my brain.

And FYI, Michael, YOUR LAST NAME IS PRONOUNCED BUBBLE. IF IT WAS BOOB-LAY IT WOULD HAVE AN ACCENT ON THE E, WOULDN’T IT?

What was my point? Oh, yes.

Not content with sending Buble to interrupt my attempts to lie very still on a Saturday morning and watch 3 hours of Simpsons in peace while I try and recover from a dirty hangover, the Vancouver Olympics have now broken our fearless rugby league leader. We found out yesterday that NRL boss David Gallop went over there on a mini-Olympic break and promptly broke his collarbone. Thanks, Vancouver.

What are we gonna do now? Who’s going to stand outside NRL headquarters when the next scandal happens looking stern and dignified and laying down the law? Cause God knows it’s impossible to look dignified in a sling. It just can’t be done. It’s science.

Meanwhile, according to Phil Rothfield in today’s paper, while DG is the most powerful man in rugby league, the number two most influential person is Jarryd Hayne.

So, um … has anyone seen Jarryd-with-a-Y lately? First of all he’s picked on the bench behind fullback Billy Slater for the All-Stars game, until Billy pulls out with an injured ankle. Now he’s ranked the second most influential man in league … and the number one contender gets involved in a mysterious skiing accident.

Jarryd-with-a-Y poses with a celebratory cigar.

DOES JARRYD HAVE MYSTICAL VOODOO POWERS?

We are a bunch of superstitious bitches, and our answer to that is … yes. Yes, he does. Burn the witch! burn the witch!

So get out your lists and write it down: never call Nick Politis fat, and never finish above Jarryd Hayne on any kind of list. It will only end in broken bones, or being exiled to Far North Queensland like Willie Mason.

And because DG isn’t back in town yet, we can’t send him a giant ridiculous basket of fruit flowers to cheer him up like we did that time Greg Inglis was arrested for allegedly assaulting his girlfriend (they’re festive! Plus they’re easy to eat with one hand). Instead he’ll have to settle for some e-fruit flowers that Intern John-John rustled up.

If you’re wondering, the card says:

‘We’re glad you didn’t do a Sonny Bono. Feel better soon DG! Love and kisses, Errol.’

ps if Shaun White is reading this – Shaun? Herro?

What is it, dude?

Who am I kidding, of course he’s reading. Well don’t worry, Shaun, I still love you! Even though the Olympics have been so mean to me, seeing rangas succeed in snowboarding never gets old. Your gold medal looks lovely with your orange curls. Love, Sassy.

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

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

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

According to the team manager:

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

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

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

Know who else loves kebabs? Whoever owns this board:

Awesome.

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

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

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

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

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

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

b) do they just really really love chicken?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WOW WOW WOW WOOOOOW

How can we put into words just how freaking insanely AWESOME this game was? Admittedly, when it comes to footy, it doesn’t take us much to get excited. It doesn’t even have to be an actual game. We get footy thrills from just watching training, reading lolz articles, seeing photos of players we like in the paper (OMG GUYS PRESTON IS ON THE FRONT PAGE!!!), discussing fantasty football at length during plane rides, listening to Wes Carr’s ‘Woah’ on iTunes…..you get the idea.

As the above photo accurately portrays, when it comes to footy we are pretty much cats with a ball of yarn. EXCITING! FASCINATING! OCCUPIED FOR HOURS! But even our tragic league brains can recognise when something is universally amazing. And the All Stars game was. When non-footy people make a point of saying to us ‘wasn’t that game brilliant?’ you know it’s hit a nerve.

Shout out to our gorgeous friend Eddie, who is a recent footy convert….she watched it alone at home back in Sydney and sent us endless text messages like “Ummmm I keep tearing up. What is wrong with me??” and “Ooooh Sam Burgess is hot!“. Considering she doesn’t even like guys, that’s a pretty big compliment for Sam.

All this excitement, AND  we got to hang out at the NRL’s One Community stand before the game and people…WE MET HEALTHY HAROLD. Yes, the giraffe that came to our primary schools and taught us about healfy fings. In a caravan. Everyone knows any message spread inside a caravan is one worth spreading. Together with Harold and Mario Fenech we challenged kids to making funny faces with fruit, vegies and wholegrain tortillas. Yes, you read that right.

After spending the week in the Goldy and meeting so many Indigenous people involved in the game, players, management and fans, watching the game took on a whole new significance for us. Not to get all political or anything, but when the amazing dancers were performing, we marvelled at the fact Indigenous culture is still so strong and so proud, after White Australia has had more than a few cracks at destroying it.

The feeling in the stadium was something we’ve never experienced before. It made Origin look understated and passionless. We will straight up admit : shit got emotional. There was definitely goosebumps and we had to literally choke back tears a few times during the night. Please don’t point out that we are weird or creepily and suddenly attached to a people and culture that are not our own, WE KNOW, WE KNOW. You just can’t help how ya feel, okay?

We won’t go through the game play by play, because we know you all watched it for yourselves, but our highlights include – Wendell’s beautiful try and his hysterical didgeredoo routine afterwards, youngin Blake Ferguson chasing down Izzy Folau to save a try, Corey Patterson’s MASSIVE hit on Kurt Gidley (we swear you could hear that oooooof noise up the other end of the field) and best of all, Errol fave Tiny Dancer Soward scoring that absolute ripper of a try to win the game. SO.FREAKING.GOOD.

Oh, also? Matt Cooper in an entirely white uniform was pretty sweet too.

Much fun was had post game too. Including -

- the fact that we were so proud that we were in the same room Wayne Bennett for hours without accosting him … until Kiki’s liquid courage kicked in and she trotted over to introduce herself. The result? UNCLE WAYNE SMILED. For realz. She also showed him her beloved Dragons necklace (that she never takes off) and he said it was … wait for it … “adorable”. Yes people, Uncle Wayne used the word adorable. We are still speechless.

(She also may or may not have put her back out while performing her OMGZ I JUST MET GOD dance for a group of people. It’s still sore.)

- Sassy finding herself in a Serious Discussion about what would be the best approach to coaching a forward like Sam Burgess with Brad Fittler and Telegraph journo Andrew Webster. All she could offer was ‘ummmmmm … did you know I once coached a fantasy team?’

- a rugby league legend helpfully telling us if we wanna be on TV, we have to ‘tone the hair down … you have TOO MUCH HAIR’. Also ‘you have beautiful faces! The hair is a distraction!’. Easily the weirdest and loliest moment of our week, possibly our lives. Kiki had to talk down Sassy from marching over and telling him it’s Queensland, mate! You try keeping your curls under control in this kind of humidity. GOD.

(He had clearly been to one of those management courses where they teach you how to give advice without offending people by MAKING SURE YOU THROW IN A COMPLIMENT. “Girls! You have too much hair … um, but you’re beautiful too. Please don’t hit me” – Sass)

- Kiki finally fulfilling her aim of the week, and getting her hug from Jamal Idris.  And by ‘getting’, we mean she stormed up to him purposefully, yelled JAMAL I AM YOUR BIGGEST FAN I HAVE TO HUG YOU and launched herself at him. Thankfully he didn’t seem to be too bothered by her creepiness.

- Kiki then asking Jamal if his acting ambitions are for real, or were they a media beat up. His answer? He really, truly wants to be an actor. We could not love him more.

And with that, the best week ever was over and we were relegated to being sad pandas. The countdown to All Stars II has begun. Bring it on!

We want to say big BIG thankyous to the NRL, especially Trish, Janelle, Jodie and Nish. And much love to DG, DT and John B, thanks for for the encouragement and support boys! Also thanks to Jason from the Titans, Phil, Chris and the boys from the NSW U16’s Indigenous team. And of course to all the players who were very generous and gracious all week.

Friday’s All-Star week itinerary: junior clinic with the Indigenous team. Whee! If you didn’t get the translation of that, it basically means: cuteness.

We rocked up to find the lucky schoolkids itching to get some footy player signatures. And the one line that was four times the length of the others? For the one and only Preston Campbell. Dammit those kids have good taste. WE LOVE PRESTO.

One little guy needs a leg up

Basically everywhere he went he was surrounded by a scrum of worshipping kids. It took all our willpower not to join it.

For a second we actually thought Pres was the only guy in the tent, until Sassy noticed he was actually hanging out with Greg Bird. At this point Kiki turned around and said: “oh yeah! It’s so weird no one wants to get an autograph from him, poor guy”.

Except THAT’S NOT GREG BIRD, KIKI. THAT’S JUST SOME RANDOM GUY STANDING AROUND IN A MAMBO SHIRT. Greg Bird is that other guy, over there in the indigenous team shirt over there signing posters for little kids. Maybe it’s time to get some prescription sunglasses. Just sayin.

[Um.... in my defence that bloke is a dead ringer for Gregory and I stand by that. - Kiki]

Our girl Yasmin has also just arrived in the Goldy to watch the match tomorrow with us, so we dragged her along to get her first glimpse of the team she’ll be cheering. At the sight of Tom Learoyd-Lahrs we realised it was a Completely Awesome Idea. She paused with her Coke Zero straw halfway to her mouth and finally whispered: ” … who is THAT?”.

To quote Gorden Tallis “… is that a brother or what, girls?” Indeed that is a brother, Gorden. If by ‘brother’ you mean ‘hot bitch’.

TLL attempts to figure out whether he’s creeped out or flattered by Gorden’s remark

We also want to send our condolences to these kids, who go to school right next to Pizzey Park where the clinic was held. Having their lunchtime entrapped behind a wire fence. So close, yet so so far.

They hate their lives.

And before we go to the game tomorrow at Skilled Park, we want to give out a few awards that we came up with in the last week. Grab your drinks and get ready to clap, bitches:

King of Hearts: Preston Campbell

Ladies Choice: Sam Burgess

Stealth Spunk: Joel Thompson

Best Rug: George Rose

Worst surfer: Michael Jennings

Most European Boardshorts: Nate Myles (those bitches were SHORT)

Sad Panda Award: Billy Slater

Most Confused by Life: Anthony Tupou

Kids’ Favourite: Scott Prince

Best Value: Gorden Tallis

For the record, we are cheering for the Indigenous team. When we told Preston Campbell we’d be in his corner he seemed totally surprised when he said ‘awww, thank girls!’. BUT IT’S TRUE.

See you at the game, kittens!

Some days are … unexpected. You start out driving around lost in your ridiculous (borrowed) beige Mitsubishi Sigma station wagon, and before you know it you’re holding a microphone up to a shirtless Sam Burgess and trying to look at his eyes while he’s talking instead of his pecs.

Thursday afternoon the boys from the All-Stars and the Indigenous team all headed to White Water World to hang out with some special kids at a One Community function, and for reasons we don’t wanna question we were allowed to interview the players and cover it for nrl.com. Thank you, universe!

If there’s anything more adorable than footy players living it up with mobs of school children on giant waterslides … we haven’t seen it. Robbie Farah had barely made it in the gates before he had his shirt off and had hit the waterslide in his Teamm8 boardies. Luke Bailey spent the ride yelling out ‘we’re gonna flip! we’re gonna flip!’, and Josh Morris got out of his giant inflatable raft by executing an amazing face-plant into the pool. It was magical.

All the boys were paired up, which meant Nate Myles and Anthony Watmough were paired up to wrangle and entertain a group of kids together. All we can say is that – together – those two radiate mischief, especially when they’re squishing Kiki on either side to cover her in water. We love Watmough’s personalised mike check, too. It goes something like: WET…WATMOUGH…CHECK 1-2 …WET … into the microphone. So good.

George Rose took out fashions on the field with his awesome headdress: an soaking wet indigenous team shirt tied into a do-rag. Also, props to Georgie for rocking the full chest hair rug when everyone else had gone the trim. Represent, Burt Reynolds!

Did we mention the shirtlessness?

For one thing, yes shirtless Sam Burgess is exactly as much of a dreamboat as you’d expect.

Clearly we are not the kind of people who think ahead. If we did, we woulda realised that to go on waterslides, yes, people tend to get their gear off. But somehow our booze and TV-addled brains didn’t manage to put 2 and 2 together to get ’shirtless Matt Cooper’. GOOD GOD. They should put a warning on that. Not only shirtless, but SOAKING WET.

Kiki was midway through recording to camera when her mouth just opened like one of those rotating clowns at the Easter Show, she fell completely silent for about 5 seconds, then yelled CRAP when she realised she’d blown her take. It was all totally Hot Bitch Cooper’s fault for walking past, pausing and watching her and, you know … existing. How are we meant to stay professional under those kind of circumstances? We’re seriously considering filing some kind of shirtless incapacitation claim.

We’ve never seen as many happy kids though. Swishing around in plastic rafts with Sam Thaiday! Wrestling with Wendell in the wave pool! Saying creepy things about getting to touch Jonathon Thurston (that bit was kinda weird, not gonna lie).

We’re not really what you’d describe as ’shy’ but spotting Wayne Bennett almost made us silent. Mid conversation with our cameramen we grabbed each other and yelled IT’S UNCLE WAYNE! We stood there for a good 5 minutes, clutching each other while Sassy pointed and Kiki announced “it’s like being 3 metres away from GOD!”. Needless to say our cameramen were … confused.

We kept spotting players we wanted to interview but couldn’t grab because they happened to be having a discussion with the great Benny. Rule number 1 of fight club: you do not interrupt Uncle Wayne.

You can however, interrupt the Australian captain Cam Smith and halfback Jonathan Thurston purely to get to Gordon Tallis to ask him for an interview. That’s totally fine.

As far as we’re concerned hosting community events at water parks is the greatest idea ever. We like to think it was another one from Preston Campbell’s Big Books of Awesome Ideas. First he comes up with the Indigenous showcase game – which we’re already in love with – then he busts out shirtless Thursday on the Gold Coast.

Thumbs up, Pres!

Stay tuned for the video, we’ll link you when it’s up x

In amongst all the All-Stars vs Indigenous excitement you might not have realised that there’s a Saturday night curtain raiser: the Under 16 NSW indigenous rep team will be taking on their Queensland counterparts. IT’S MINI ORIGIN! Personally, we have high high hopes that the baby blues can win the shield for NSW pride.

We also hope they can bring it home because … well dammit those boys are adorable. We met Captain and Vice-Captain Matt Gordon and Tyrone Phillips at their sweet digs, and had a chat to them and their hilarious coach, Chris, over some teen-appropriate drinks (promise). Say hi, boys:

We ran into the guys at opposed training, marking up against the Indigenous team on a ridiculously hot day up at Runaway Bay.

In typical Queenslander fashion, the Queensland 16s ran out first for their training session, leaving the NSW boys to wait around for their chance to face up against the Indigenous team. Bloody Queenslanders!

Seriously, even from the sideline we were taken aback at the sheer LARGENESS of Wendell Sailor in person – can you imagine marking up against him on the footy field?

Our NSW boys have some guts, that’s for sure. They’re also the absolute legends who stopped to save a family in distress. We’re not kidding either, they literally did. The under 16s team bus pulled over and spilled out a whole team of footy players to push a family’s car back onto the Gold Coast highway after they accidentally ran off the road. Check yo boys, NSW! They’re awesome, huh?

The NSW U16 reps team is also the same one that produced Jamal Idris and George Rose, and Matt and Tyrone are nervous and excited and every emotion in existence at the thought of opening for the All-Stars vs Indigenous showcase and being part of the history books. Their thoughts on Preston’s idea? “Genius … that’s all I can say”.

Best of all, Matt Gordon (Yileen’s cousin, if you’re wondering) has a bet going with Errol Favourite George Rose. If Matty takes a man down in the U16s clash, George Rose will take down an All-Star. IT’S ON, KIDS. Watch out for the carnage on Saturday night!

Now, because we’re on the road with our lappies we can’t do any proper video editing: so in the meantime we’ve made some mini-packages of Matt and Tyrone and their coach, Chris Binge. The boys talk about their week in the Goldy and the game on Saturday, and Chris gives us a rundown of who’s who in the team.

Here’s a hint: there’s a George Rose, a Carl Webb, even a greyhound.

Apologies in advance for us cackling like hyenas in the background at Chris … he’s just so FUNNY. Enjoy, darlings!

Kiki and Sassy coming to you live from Queensland! Well sort of live. Whatever. We’re up at the Gold Coast to check out the lead up to the Indigenous vs All Stars match this week, and just maybe because we kind of love going to a place where it’s socially acceptable to wear a white denim miniskirt in public. As far as white denim goes, Sassy and Surfer’s Paradise are in total philosophical agreement.

But there are a few things that are kind of … odd up here. Like the fact that every second ad on the radio is either a community service announcement warning people not to drive into flood waters (‘turn around you idiot! don’t let your life go down the drain!’) or an RACQ ad pimping out their service to help out Queenslanders who’ve locked their keys in their cars. Seriously. Not cars that have, you know, broken down, or had an accident … just battlers who have frequent problems with cars and locks. It’s like a whole state of morons! Maybe we should move here.

This morning the Indigenous team trained with the NSW and Qld indigenous 16s rep teams, and you’ll be delighted to know that Jamal Idris is as insanely cuddly in person as he is on yo TV. The fact that we resisted running on to go the snuggle is pretty much a miracle.

The word out of indigenous camp is that Gorden Tallis has been calling Wendell Sailor ‘Beyonce’ for the last 48 hours straight. Doesn’t Gordie love a pop culture reference? He so does …. almost as much as us, in fact. 

Needless to say we are massive Gordie fans, thanks to his hilarious domestic squabbles with Gary Freeman on Monday Night Football. And that was before we saw him refereeing in a bucket hat while the Indigenous superstars played the 16s. A BUCKET HAT, PEOPLE! It’s all our dreams come true.

We were lucky enough to have a chat to Gordie last year in Orange, so we were pretty overjoyed that he recognised us and came over to take the piss out of us today for our hilarious escapades and mixups in City-Country week. It’s the Australian way.

Greg Bird is back in the country – sadly without his hilarious 2008 Mexican moustache, because he’s swapped it for some bulk. Goddamn! Bird is a unit. For reals. Especially when he stands next to the tiny tiny ankles of Jamal Idris, Neil Henry, and Beau Champion.

The injury curse over this whole showcase game is still out of control, if you’re wondering. I don’t know who it was that disturbed the angry pharoah mummy, but shit is ridiculous. Blake Ferguson, also known as injured Justin Hodge’s replacement, had to hit the bench and ice his ankle, which may or may not be sorted out by the end of the week. Poor lil Blake! Think we almost saw his rats tail uncurl in sadness as he sat on the sideline.

At least we must’ve cheered him up with our ridiculous 80s cockrock hair. THIS HUMIDITY IS RIDICULOUS. We can’t leave the house without looking like rejects from a Whitesnake video. 

And if you’re wondering why there are no ErrolTV interview clips for you today, I think I can explain it in one phrase: we are idiots. Not only did we try and charge our video camera with the wrong charger and think that it broke; we then spent an hour phoning around electronics stores to find a replacement with a pre-charged battery; we also then realised we had the wrong microphone to attach to the camera, and finally …. drove to the wrong field. Late interviewers are disappointed interviewers.

Your two favourite idiots also got distracted talking to the awesome Phil from the NSW team management about his boys, and ended up as the unwitting backdrop for about eight interviews with Scott Prince. 

On. Fire. Right?

We are awesome.

Stay tuned for more gossip and some TV goodness tomorrow when we get our shit together. Plus an adorable profile of the NSW 16s indigenous rep team.

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

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

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

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

We knew you’d come back, babies!

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

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

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

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

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

LOTE THE TIGER I LOVE YOUR WORK! AND YOUR TASTY SUGARY CEREAL!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The chicken formerly known as Brent Grose.

And as twitterer and generally hilarious human Jen Bennett suggested:

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

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

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

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

I rest my case.

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

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

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

Michael Robertson … come on down!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WHAT UPPPPPPP!

My god it’s been awhile since we’ve e-connected, right kittens? I bet you miss me like Danny Wicks misses his freedom. Unless of course you follow us on Twitter. I am all over the Twitter. I even have my own account now. Try to control your excitement.

[Ooh, yes! Me too! follow me, love me, and enjoy the minutiae of my daily life, twitter-style. - S ]

Tweeting is fun. Tweeting after a few vodkas is even better. Sassy and I are still trying to figure out what hilarious political commentary I was trying to tweet at 4am from QBar late last year. We found it the next morning, just sitting there in Twitteriffic, half finished.

“Imma let you finish, but the federal government is …”

IS WHAT KIKI? IS WHAAAAT? And is that, was I trying to, wait … was I making a Kanye West joke? About the Australian Federal Government? Worst of all, I totally remember us both absolutely cracking up at the time and saying “we have to tweet this!” And now it’s lost forever. RIP awesome joke, we hardly knew thee.

Anyway, back to things that are relevant. This off-season has been particularly punishing for me.  The only things that have kept me from complete emotional oblivion are:

a) The Contender (turns out boxing is almost as good as footy, also I LOVE YOU GARTH.)

b) the fact I live at the beach now and am treated to a daily show of hot tattooed shirtlessness frolicking in my driveway

c) the way in which rugby league keeps churning out the top shelf entertainment despite the fact there are no actual games being played.

Let’s start with Jamal Idris, shall we? Our favourite (and possibly only) Afro-diginal footy player. And after this recent story, he is fast becoming one of our favourite all around humans. Watch out Anthony Bourdain/Wendell Sailor/Zac Efron, this kid is gaining on ya!

I first read this article on my phone whilst in bed, attempting to get to sleep. It didn’t help my slumber because I spent the next 20 minutes literally loling at the hilarity of it all. I think I even said “oh Jamal, I love you” out loud. Yeh, that’s not weird at all.

There’s so much goodness in this article, I barely know where to start.

“Acting is something that I’ve really thought about getting into for a couple of years, but I don’t really know how to go about it,” Idris told The Daily Telegraph after the Bulldogs’ annual Twenty20 cricket match at ANZ Stadium yesterday.

I love the ‘really thought about it’. It’s not just a passing fancy people! Jamal is Serious about this. When it comes to his future career as a thespian, bitch is thinking Rodin style.

I’ve always thought Jamal was like an overgrown puppy. Adorable and enthusiastic and delightfully innocent. Remember when he signed his Bulldogs contract last year and didn’t realise he had to pay tax? LOVE. He displays his gorgeous naivete again with this gem:

“I didn’t do drama at school or anything like that, but love watching movies and DVDs. It’s hard to describe … but when I watch a movie I sort of get carried away and can imagine myself being there in the scene.”

Oh, honey. You are amazing. Well Jamz, imagine no more. With the power of a) my brain and b) photoshop you can see your acting career in solid visuals. I’ve decided if you’re gonna act, go all OUT baby. Forget predictable special effects blockbusters. Be brave and REMAKE THE CLASSICS. Oh yes.

Jamal Idris is….Citzen Kane.

ROOOOOSEEEBUDDDD

Not into Orson Welles and multiple Academy Awards? Okay then. Everyone loves a southern gothic tale sooooo…what about, some Tennesee Williams?

Stelllaaaaa! The goggles, they do nothing!

Every aspiring actor wants to be Marlon Brando. This role would be perfect for our boy Jamal. I know it’s intmidating, but if he wants, he can pop over to Errol HQ to run lines and practice the infamous soaking wet white t-shirt scene. Intern John John, fetch the hose!

But if he wants to start small, I’ve come up with the perfect compromise. Stick to what he knows. ie: being pigtailed and adorable.

That pirate hat is absolute killer.

In other God-footy-is-hilarious-like-no-other-sport news, the Sunday Herald tells me Daine Laurie and Willie Mason are in the midst of a feud. WE LOVE FOOTY FEUDS. They are so … biblical. And by the sounds of it, this one is an absolute doozy.

Recently described by the ABC as a “rugby league vagrant” (HAHAHA), Willie has been having a bad time of it lately. It’s made him bitchy like woah and apparently he’s been blabbing all over town that D.Laurs is a ‘poor excuse for a footballer’ and ‘a drunk’. Unsuprisingly, Daine took to this news rather negatively.

He told the Herald : “Tell Willie Mason when I see him, I’m going to slap him in the face”.

OH MY GOD. I AM DEAD FROM AWESOME. I know it’s only Febuary, but hot damn this is easily the best league quote of the year.

Now I don’t like to boast (that’s a lie), but as always, Errol is ahead of the curve. Cultural zeitgeists you say? Oh, I agree. Way back in 2008, we spotted Daine Laurie as a slapping extraordinaire. Not just any old slap, but a BITCH slap. You heard it here first.

It’s exactly two weeks till the inaugural Indigenous vs All-Stars Gold Coast footy fest, and bitches, the All-Stars have been announced. The people have spoken. It’s pretty much democracy in it’s most fabulous incarnation yet, no?

(Click here to refresh your memory if you can’t remember who the hell the All-Stars are playing. I totally just clicked it then, because I have the memory of a learning-impaired sloth. This has nothing to do with booze, of course).

And before you read them, can I suggest that you imagine them all being announced like debutantes? I did, and the whole scene in my mind was pretty damn awesome. Come on down, boys!

1. Billy Slater – Melbourne Storm

2. Israel Folau – Brisbane Broncos

3. Michael Jennings – Penrith Panthers

4. Matt Cooper – St George Illawarra Dragons

5. Manu Vatuvei – New Zealand Warriors

6. Darren Lockyer – Brisbane Broncos

7. Benji Marshall – Wests Tigers

8. Adam Blair – Melbourne Storm

9. Cameron Smith – Melbourne Storm

10. Dave Taylor – South Sydney Rabbitohs

11. Anthony Watmough – Manly Warringah Sea Eagles

12. Gareth Ellis – Wests Tigers

13. Luke O’Donnell – North Queensland Cowboys

Bench:

Kurt Gidley – Newcastle Knights

Anthony Tupou- Cronulla Sharks

Nate Myles – Sydney Roosters

Alan Tongue – Canberra Raiders

Luke Bailey – Gold Coast Titans

Josh Morris – Canterbury Bulldogs

Jarryd Hayne – Parramatta Eels

You can thank me later for the debutante ball visuals. Especially the one of Nate Myles in a one shouldered dress.

I can’t lie – that’s a damn good team. Australia, you have excellent taste. And by ‘excellent taste’, clearly I mean ‘ way to pick Hotbitch Cooper in the centres’. Sure, he may be 100 in footy years, but for a centenarian he has a fucking great ass … I mean, he’s a brilliant defensive center. Cough. And we all know why a team needs a good defensive centre. It’s called ‘the same reason NSW lose State of Origin’. On behalf of womankind … I mean, footy fans everywhere, thank you, voters of Australia.

The only problem with our nation’s love affair with Hotbitch Cooper – aka the ‘Chanel of men’ – is that thanks to the fascists who designed the voting scheme, there’s only one player voted in from each team. Playing Coops without Brett Morris outside on the wing is like … vodka without tonic. A Judd Apatow film without Paul Rudd. Those two have some Milo and Otis shit going on, and everyone knows that without Milo, Otis is just a lift company.

I’m 99% sure the only thing that could make up for the tragic lack of B.Moz is watching Manu Vatuvei and his fucking sweet gold tooth charge over opposition players. This is convenient.

People seem to be saying that the reason they voted reigning Rexona’s greatest athlete Billy Slater into the team is for his speed in running back the ball from his own tryline, his spontenaity, and, I dunno, the fact that he can score single-man length-of-the-field tries with the ball in one hand or something. But I would like to point out that Billy is also reigning Oh Errol winner of ‘best skin in league’, and his selection in the team means that I have a flimsy excuse to post this picture of him in a giant egg capsule* again:

* this is a technical term.

Awesome.

No offence to Jarryd Hayne but I also find it completely delightful that he’s not in the starting team, because hopefully now I won’t have to hear the phrase HAYNE TRAIN at any point in the next two weeks.

I still have nightmares about that photo, for reals. If there’s one thing I hate as much as Queenslanders, it’s puppets, clowns, and anything that has vaguely to do with people in masks.

Meanwhile if you’re wondering why there are so many Storms and Broncos in the team, it’s because the Captain and Vice-Captain of the Australian and Kiwi national teams automatically quali- … something something purple monkey dishwasher. I can’t be bothered explaining it. Whatever. I care not for anything that involves the Storm or Broncos (unless, of course, we’re talking about the brilliantly- named Kristian Wanka. KRISTIAN WANKA. You heard it here first).

I’d much rather take the time I would’ve spent typing and use it to go get a Diet Coke. I can’t even muster the inclination to look up how many votes the top vote-scorer Israel Folau received. Instead, let’s all look at a picture of Neil Patrick Harris riding a unicorn, shall we?

Best of all – the All-Stars team has proven to me that all our Errol weird footy loves are actually universal footy loves. Sir Alan Tongue, noblest man in league! Anthony ‘Sad Clown’ Tupou! Anthony Watmough! Gareth ‘But only gels do ballet!’ Ellis! Goddamn you people have excellent taste.

And surprisingly, no, this whole initiative wasn’t created just so the Errol girls could ogle Hotbitch Cooper and Luke O’Donnell (the Paul Newman of league) in a beachside setting. According to David Gallop, we’re looking at $1.5 million for One Community and Indigenous education programmes. That’s right, $1.5 million cause the game’s already sold out *high kick*

We love you rugby league.

Now – what’s your feedback on the team babies? and WHO VOTED FOR ISRAEL FOLAU?