Month: November 2008

UK Rugby fan wrong


Surrey resident Charles Chorltington-Worster resident today confirmed he lacks even basic knowledge of Rugby Union rules, tactics, players, coaches, referee’s calls and global pecking order. A lifelong England Rugby follower, Chorltington-Worster admitted to possessing less Rugby knowledge than a toaster. “I’m a typical Pommy Rugby aficionado, but I know sod all about it. Jolly poor show, what.” said Chortlington-Worster.

Speaking outside his local, The Buckteeth and Jodhpurs, Chortlington-Worster was only too happy to tell reporters his wrongness was total, utter, and retrospective, and the All Blacks were definitely poisoned in 1995, Tana tacked Brian fairly, Richie McCaw only plays to the limits of the laws, and Clive Woodward is crap.

The admission follows sterling work from New Zealand’s Grand Slam touring parties, unofficially recruited by the NZRFU to confront British fans in their places of work, pubs or homes, and point out they’re wrong. “We got briefed on the plane.” said Dave Gooseneck of Taranaki. “They told us ‘get stuck into the Poms and point out they’re wrong.’ Bloody oath I was keen, I was going to do it anyway.”

Gooseneck and his party were proud of their work so far in England and Scotland. “One Scottish wanker tried to tell me Jimmy Cowan wasn’t the best halfback in the world. I had the NZRFU Big Book Of Stats & Arguments out of me day pack in a flash. You should have seen his face.”

NZRFU CEO Steve Tew said the guerrilla campaign was yielding quick wins already. “Without going out and boiling the ocean, we’re seeing some real traction. By 2011, we could see UK coaches, administrators, even referees admitting they’re wrong. Licensing our methodology to other sports would be a big revenue opportunity, I’m sure Australian cricketers could adapt it for appeals, or self-righteous whinging. South Africa may be interested, but there’s a number of freelancers operating in this area there already.”

Links on Friday

Don’t think this guy really gets what batting’s all about. Hitting the ball and that. You can see him thinking ‘F**king YOUTUBE’ on the way back to the shed.

Six classic footballs. Tango = 1982 = undisputed champ

Arsenal 4 v Spurs 4 fanzone commentators. They got too excited at the start and left themselves nowhere to go, really.

Sean of the Dead‘s Simon Pegg on Why Zombies Shouldn’t Run, He’s writing about E4’s Dead Set *opens torrent*.

Regarding my ‘Official All Black Grand Slam Tour Blogger’ contract

I’m rapt to be the ‘Official All Black Grand Slam Tour Blogger in association with Warehouse Stationary’. Never in my wildest did I think my sporadic, barely literate farking around on the net would earn a six figure, one month gig. It’s a dream, etc etc.

However. This contract. We’ve got some show stoppers. Rats and mice, like the ‘turning up drunk’ and ‘punch Stu Wilson hard in the face’ clauses are missing. I’m surprised, but it doesn’t matter. I’d like to nut through the biggies now though, if we can.

First off, we’re not getting underway in the mornings ’til after 9.30. When I worked in London it was like 9.30. Later, if there’s tube problems. They’re always breaking down eh, you can’t control when you show up. And it’s not your fault.

Also, I’ll need Adidas socks, pants, shorts, shoes ( I like the old school ones, but I’ll take running shoes and sandals, too), caps, boxers, briefs, tees, sweatshirts, fleeces, coats, scarves, bags, beanies, wrist and headbands, and pens. ALL that shit’s necessary. You want good blogging, don’t you?  I’ll Trade Me it after, though, the stuff I don’t keep ’til it’s priceless. It all needs to be signed by everyone, too.

This ‘minimum daily word count’ is coming straight out. Blogging’s not like Rugby. You can’t measure it. I might do a three word post when we play England. And that’ll be blogging gold. I might do three words for the whole TOUR, and that would be enough. ‘Minimum word count’. You guys might have ruined the whole thing already.

Let’s talk PR. We’ll need some night club shenanigans, fighting in Wales, spewing in Dublin, All Black Booze Shocker, Our Papparazzi Shame, Whoops Misses Mind My Jock Strap, that kind of thing. Pommy tabs lap that shit up. Great publicity. The handbag really helped Tana, everyone knows who he is now. Maybe we could do something to Clive Woodward, or his house, that’d go over great back home.

We’re close on that contract now. Good meeting guys. Just so you know, when we get there I’ll chuck a sickie for a couple of days, catch up with some old mates. Just pick me up from The Snakebite & Firken in Willesden Green. Bring a car big enough for nine people? Ta.