Countdown Proper

So with 24 (ish) hours to go the count down has definitely started for England’s 6 Nations campaign and that tingly feeling of nervous anticipation is sitting firmly in the belly. England will have been boosted by Gethin Jenkins suffering a last minute calf strain but typically we now have to suffer an injury blow ourselves. Flutey is out with a dead leg.

A DEAD FUCKING LEG!!!!

Now I’ve played a lot of rugby in my time and received countless dead legs, some more serious than others and generally pretty painful I grant you. But on the whole they don’t put you out of fucking action.

I appreciate the level of rugby that Flutey is playing is slightly – only slightly mind – higher than my own, but he didn’t get hurt in a contact session. This happened during a non-contact drill. How bad could it have been? This raises the question of whether professional rugby players are too wrapped in cotton wool?

At any rate we now have the ex-Newcastle backline of Wilkinson, Flood, Tait. Be in no doubt that Jamie Roberts will be chomping at the bit to take the ball flat and smash the 12 channel. Flood has to absorb this pressure and not rely on Wilko to do all the defending.

Even with Flutey out I’m beginning to grow in confidence for an England win tomorrow. It won’t be by much but a win is a win. It’s about time England started turning Twickenham back into the fortress it once was.

Back in from the cold

I’m back. Jesus that took ages. Fucking snow. I only popped out for a bottle of milk and some Rennie. The havoc the Christmas cheer was reaping on my insides was unholy. Honestly, it was like I’d ingested the entire Viking race and they were intent on raping and pillaging their way through my digestive tract. Suffice to say, I needed to get to the chemist. Sharpish.

There were warnings of TREACHEROUS WEATHER CONDITIONS but I thought fuck it, if I don’t get some indigestion remedy soon there are going to be some pretty treacherous conditions here too.

I got to the chemist, inhaled half the packet and – feeling pretty happy with myself – got in the car to negotiate the three mile trip home. Unfortunately someone upstairs decided then would be a good time to dump the insides of Daniella Westbrook’s nostril all over our tiny Isle. So there I was, under 12 feet of snow with nothing but 6 Rennies and a pint of semi-skimmed as company. To cut a long story short it’s taken me a month and a bit to negotiate the three mile journey home (obviously stopping at every public house enroute).

Clearly, that is all complete bollocks. Sorry to lead you on. I just wanted flex my creative muscle. I was simply too pissed to write anything over Christmas and have only just returned from a post-Christmas ski-ing jaunt. So now I’m playing catch-up.

First up. Hats off to Bill McClaren. The legend. The master. He’s the reason I fell in love with rugby and since his retirement commentary just hasn’t been the same. Who else could describe Bryan Redpath as “slippy as a baggy on a Border burn”. Genius.

What else is going on? Oh yes. Venter’s been throwing his toys out of the pram now Saracens have lost a couple. Cunt.

A Frenchman has been banned for 70 weeks for eye gouging. Yeeeeess, get in!!!

And there’s obviously the final round of the Heineken Cup group games this weekend. Well done to Bath for giving us another complete shower of shit. But I like the look of the rest of the competition. Northampton Vs Munster will be fantastic tonight and if Courtney Lawes plays like he did in their last encounter he must surely start against Wales.

Which brings me neatly onto the small matter of the Six Nations. Christ its come round quickly. I’ve decided I’m not going to make any predictions this year as my prophecies are always, 100% donkey spunk.

What’s that? You want my prediction?

Oh go on then. You’ve twisted my sack. Ireland will win and England will come a vomit inducing 4th.

But first, England have to face Wales. Jesus wept. It’s going to be awful.

But it needn’t be.

Now I wouldn’t suggest for a minute that Martin Johnson reads this blog, but if he did, England might win some fucking games. Yeah. That’s right. Win some fucking games. Here’s the team that WOULD beat Wales if our glorious leader bothered to listen to me.

1. Sheridan
2. Hartley
3. Wilson
4. Shaw ©
5.Lawes
6. Haskell
7. Moody
8. Easter
9. Hodgson
10. Wilkinson
11. Monye
12. Flutey
13. Armitage
14. Ashton
15. Cueto

16. Care
17. Flood
18. Tait
19. Mears
20. White
21. Borthwick
22. Worsley

A spoonful of sugar...

I’ve finally re-emerged after what has been one of the worst Autumns I can ever remember. Never before have I been so angry with an England performance that I’ve wanted to rip out my eye-balls and replace them with the testicles from a leprous baboon. But there were moments over the last 3 weeks when I was seriously tempted.

“Oh but we did so much better against New Zealand, we showed real spirit”

Fuck off. We lost. And we lost comfortably to a shit New Zealand team with Dan Carter kicking like my dead gran. But more on my England theories later.

In order to cheer everyone up I thought it would be a great time for round two of the Eyes Right, Bollocks Tight Cheerleader of the Month competition. Woo hoo!

Nominations have been pouring in from all corners of the globe but our expert panel of judges – Mother Palm and her 5 sisters – have whittled the list down to this month’s winner.

Congratulations go to [dramatic drum-roll please]……

Melandi of the Vodacom Cheetahs. Yay.

According to her website profile of this “flip-flopping dancing beauty loves doing things she usually wouldn’t do, because she loves surprising herself”. Ding Dong.

The athlete she admires the most is Lance Armstrong and her hidden talent is that she is flexible – see pic right. She enjoys pornography – oh no, wait, sorry – photography as a hobby and “feels inspired by music, emotion and being an individual”. Bleaughhhh!!!

Commenting on the win Melandi said: “Wow – what an honour. This is just the best. We’ve all been feeling pretty low since the Bokka lost AGAIN last week and this has cheered me up so much. Thanks Mother Rucker – feel free to visit the Cheetah girls anytime you’re in Free State. We’d love to see you.”

You know what, maybe I will.