Follow Walt Disney's advice by the musical Turk

I missed last years pub golf and the only reference to how smashed I could be in this years was BLUE. Never had Weatherspoons seen such a broken man stumble through the doors before 7pm, supported by Big Will shouting 'you'm avin another one?'.

At this exact time I thought- I want to go home this couldn't be any worse! But it is, this year we're off to Pontypool.
I've decided to follow the advice of the very likeable creator of Mickey Mouse and the likes, Walt Disney. Big Walt once said 'If you're going through hell, keep going'. This is certainly what I'll be doing, head down ass up drink the drinks don't say anything to anyone and smile when I get to Cardiff town, sorry if I get to Cardiff town. Remember don't get in a fight with a big, ugly Pontypool man because he's got nothing to lose!!!

The prospect of competing in the most fearsome pub golf circuit in Wales, in an unknown and untested drinking location will be one to savour. I feel this years event will rely more on 'team work' rather than the 'individual', a good partner is vital. Even if last years victors are favourites I've got a sneaky feeling that this prize could be heading Eastward across the severn bridge, oh no.
One thing's guaranteed, there'll be talk of young girls, STDs, lower league rugby from 1992-present and more 'youms' than ever heard before. Roll on the 'Pontypool Open 2007'.

Peace&Love.

Follow Walt Disney's advice the Scarlets pimpernel

I missed last years pub golf and the only reference to how smashed I could be in this years was BLUE. Never had Weatherspoons seen such a broken man stumble through the doors before 7pm, supported by Big Will shouting 'you'm avin another one?'.

At this exact time I thought- I want to go home this couldn't be any worse! But it is, this year we're off to Pontypool.

I've decided to follow the advice of the very likeable creator of Mickey Mouse and the likes, Walt Disney. Big Walt once said 'If you're going through hell, keep going'. This is certainly what I'll be doing, head down ass up drink the drinks don't say anything to anyone and smile when I get to Cardiff town, sorry if I get to Cardiff town. Remember don't get in a fight with a big, ugly Pontypool man because he's got nothing to lose!!!

The prospect of competing in the most fearsome pub golf circuit in Wales, in an unknown and untested drinking location will be one to savour. I feel this years event will rely more on 'team work' rather than the 'individual', a good partner is vital. Even if last years victors are favourites I've got a sneaky feeling that this prize could be heading Eastward across the severn bridge, oh no.
One thing's guaranteed, there'll be talk of young girls, STDs, lower league rugby from 1992-present and more 'youms' than ever heard before.

Roll on the 'Pontypool Open 2007'.

Peace&Love.

Pontypool 2007 - The Starting line up so far

With 2 weeks to go we have at least 16 competitors in the mix for Pontypool 2007. Big Will has fixed, what I have heard is a…um……a…..very challenging course. The big news and I mean big news is that we have a competitor who I believe is a challenger whos pedigree is second to none. Gar San Francisco from Fishguard is someone I believe will challenge Big Will and Ches and even has the power to bring the Pub golf Cup to West Wales. There is a lot of speculation that because of big Jas and Taz that the cup may end up over Offa’s dyke, but with the big three I have already mentioned, that will be a task in itself. What may happen is if there is a draw for first place we will enter the winners into a sudden death round called emotional stability where Taz will royally fuck up, cry and come last.

So far there hasn’t been any definates for teams but I have heard that Ches and Beechy will be combining for the doubles, whilst Ferg has invited Pete the meat or the Kaanht to partner him. The obvious duo will be Lightning Rob Thomas and Gar San Francisco who will join forces to become the ‘Fishguard Plasterers’.

More news as it comes in

Most likelies

Most likely not to make it to any pub in Cardiff
Blue

Most likely to spu
Ferg

Most likely to get hit by a tennis ball and cry
Sam

Most likely to talk about the rise of Llanhilleth as a dominant force in division 5 east
Mike

Most likely to get female attention and having fucking no clue what to do with it
Rhys bach

Most likely to know what to do with all the female attention Rhys bach is having and mither the fuck out of them until they relent
Carlt

First person not to get served because too pissed
Blue or Morg

Most likely to eat first
Morg

Most likely to fall asleep standing up
Morg

Most likely to be set on fire
Morg

Most likely to not notice a comedy penis has been drawn on his face
Morg


more to come again - regards and have a nice weekend

The Rooster

Defending my championship by THE Six Foot Jap

First of all THE Jap would like to welcome all love chickens old, new and odd (Taz) to my home town of Pontypool on the 28th July for the LC Pub Golf.

Let me take you on a brief history trip of Pontypool. Pontypool got his name from Jasper Tudor, the Lord of Abergavenny and uncle of King Henry VII. On 10th October 1490, Tudor made a grant of land to one John ap David, and in the conveyance fixes one boundary as "the highway leading form the church of Trevethin towards the bridge called Pont poell." It would seem therefore that the town gains its name from the bridge placed near the swampy pool which almost certainly would be greater than the forge pond that exists today.

That’s enough!

There are a few famous people to have lived in this forgotten town, may THE Jap draw your attention to Indian Jones and the Raiders of The Lost Ark. Yes you’ve guessed it Harrison Ford once dumped on the half way line of the Pontypool rugby ground!! Seriously the Nazi baddie (Major Arnold Toht) played by actor Ronald Lacey lived all his life in Pontypool, where his family still reside! The love chickens can match such an accolade by having two Nazi war heroes of their own, Phil Kite and Big Jim Williams!
Next for those rugby lovers, mainly those friends over the pond, who have dipped themselves in Welsh rugby history! At least, more than us so called Welsh rugby supporters. It is that of the Pontypool front row! Made immortal by Max Boyce.

"There's a programme on the Telly,I watch it when I can,The story of an astronaut,The first bionic man,He cost six million dollars,That's a lot of bread I know,But Wigan offered more than that For the Pontypool Front Row!"

We as lovechickens can also rival that, with our own front row of Cockney, and the two social hand grenades (Sam and Taz). When packing down it would be close encounter with our boys just (and only just) beating them. Bearing in mind they are in their 60’s, with health problems!
For more information on rugby in the area talk to the fat Jamie Oliver. And finally to the pubs, order and drinks to be finalised but here are the pubs!

1. The Sally
2. The Labour in Vain
3. The Colliers
4. The Forge Hammer
5. Pontypool Workmans
6. The Bell
7. The Hog and Hosper
8. The Unicorn
9. The Hanbury
10. The George
11. The Greyhound
12. The White Heart
13. The Globe
14. Pontypool rugby club

You are wondering 9 hole golf, 14 pubs the math does not add! You are correct do not recount (Morgatron definitely don’t THE Jap doesn’t want you having an embolism!). This as THE Jap will explain is precautionary. Much of Pontypool still goes by sundials for the time, in the event of a cloudy day, when time gets lost, many pub landlords loose track of opening times, also the fact that many lovechickens will get beaten to a pulp in some of the local (local pub for local people) pubs! Therefore to avoid trouble and arrests (again Taz and Sam) we will add a few more in to give us a bit of scope.

Again THE Jap will look forward to the up and coming Pontypool Pub Golf, with great eagerness, apprehension and will again retain the LC Pub Golf championship. Many people believe the last to be a draw between London Welsh and THE Jap, but THE Jap will add that London Welsh has youth on his side and is all ribs’n’dick!!

Nail down anything that moves, hide the alcohol and move your daughters somewhere far away or to Merthyr cos no one wants to go there

yes…something so scary it makes the horror film ‘Hostel’ seem like My Little Pony – The movie, something that gives you the heebjeebies more than top and tailing with a naked Taz……..switch off your mobile phones because

The Six foot jap is bored, single and horny…………..

I can hardly type because just reading back is scaring the living bejesus out of me. My first warning was given by the addictive bane of my life facebook when young MW changed his relationship status from couple to single. My face fell into my hands as his status went to ‘The one man wrecking machine ………is bored’ AAARRRGGHHHHH!!!!

You see mild mannered lecturer Matty Wills, who unassumingly goes around his college teaching under privileged kids to kick a ball or run fast *, is an articulate, deep thinking fluffy bunny, sure he is the size of a house but he is more like the yeti in ‘Big Foot at the Hendersons’ or Chewbacca rather than……..someone big and nasty. But danger is not far away, lurking deep inside his psyche, once away from the parameters and chains of a relationship he becomes the 6 foot jap. Nothing without a willy is safe, you can run but you cant hide. Its amazing but when the Jap is on heat, his vocabulary decreases from his standard 20 words to the beautifully quipped 10, one or two syllabled ones. He is a walking hormone and girls stick to him like Tew sticks to his sofa. No matter how laddish, rude or incomprehensible the Jap gets, he will always have birds flock to him. Damn it I have seen a girl kiss him after he hawked and spat on her forehead. Mere mortals have to buy flowers or at least 15 vodka red bulls……………

Just the uttering of the words

‘are youm gonna get offa wiv me or what, ida horny……..’ means another girl is deflowered and sent home happy but feeling slightly grubby. They, however will ring him as soon as they get home.

The 6 foot jap is the honey badger of the man world, no one knows how bad he is until they meet him the flesh and then it is confirmed that he is one of the most dangerous mofo’s of the animal world.

So beware, the chains are broken and he is free, he walks among us and he makes you drink.



* Other than making kids throw things or move around I would consider getting a sports think tank together, with the finest sportsmen in the world. Sporting legends and Olympians combined with the finest sport scientists known to man. Their Goal to help stop girls throwing things like fucking joeys it will probably be harder than turning base metal into gold but if its worth doing

A note from our defending co-champ, Mr Hawkes, reporting from the Dark side

Two-days before the smoking ban hits the big smoke, I have some huge catching up to do. The environmentally-misplaced amongst you have had three months of not having tar, nicotine, benzine, carbon monoxide etc clogging up your cardiovascular system, and more importantly, your digestive system. This to me is the equivanlent of high-altitude training. Being the walking Men's Health Magazine (also a walking mental library of Asian Anal magazine), I know in my heart and most importantly my superior mind, that you may have peaked too early. I shall be running a four week bootcamp starting this weekend. Crucially, I have a training partner. Like Mr Balboa in Rocky III, I have my Apollo Creed. I have someone to run up the beach with, to spar with, to go to the Spar with (to buy white lightening), and to hug and jump around with a bit TOO gaylee. A new entry, a saxon and a dark horse - John Beech enters the fray, also gaining his first cap.

Ben Stone knows the damage this man can do (re: Friday Club 2001) but he is severely underweight and i fear nine swift and challenging holes may prove too much. But those of you who have trained for a marathon (anyone?) will know you never tackle the full distance until the day, as adrenaline will get you home. So 6 pint "power" sessions are at the basis of my training.

I look forward to Pontypool workingmens club, the Hog and Hosper or the white hart, wherever it may be, where i emphatically down my last pint in less than one, take the crown and stand upon the table triumphantly urinating upon you all, you cunts.

London Welsh

PS Mike can you not fall asleep at the bar whilst ordering a round this year. Also can the dreaming Turk not offer a fiver to the bird I pull for a feel of her ample breasts. Offer a twently to fuck her. Love x

We are back you Mo-Fo's - its Pub golf

Gladys from Pontypool shows her happiness that the boys are coming on tour. Samantha an exotic dancer originally from the Rhondda said "i fuckin does do love it when the chickens do come on tour, they are lush...last time i met Les Battersby and he signed my tits....."

Well all I can say is sorry, the coop needed a bally good clean out and now we are back and what a glorious thing to blog about as the new starter – Pub Golf.

This year after various bids from Swansea from Belly and Bristol from Taz the winner, surprisingly for the Rooster was Pontypool. Gritty shit hole springs to mind but I have to respect the bid from Big Will which was the most popular. So its Pontypool followed by a soiree in Cardiff. Many of you boys are on holiday and have sent their apologies, Big Jim and the Pest are away among others. Some of you have other things on like lifeboat drills hence Champagne Ron’s absence. The Swansea Lovechickens have the best excuse, they are participating (running it if I know Belly) in the Gower Run and the Lovechickens wish them well. As for the other showers of shit who have shit excuses – buck up. Its one day and its not too expensive. Big Will will be personally aggrieved if you don’t make it. The winners of ‘Caerleon 2006’, Big Will and Ches are returning to defend their crown. Also confirmed are the boys who got through it Fergatron, Blue, Unibrow, Mike and Sam. Blue is hoping to beat his record of losing consciousness before dusk and Mike is going to get thrown out of the same place twice.

This will be the first Grand prix pub golf competition with an official Fishguard team competing, headed up by trusty plasterer Rob Thomas, However, he has not confirmed who he is bringing although initial reports are that it might be 10foot wide Gar San Francisco and drop short Pello.

One of the early shakers and movers to take the crown is social hand grenade Taz Stone, this grizzled and proud Englishman is also odds on to be the first to cry or fight or get thrown out or all three. At the moment he is the only Saxon to confirm. Come on you evil imperial pig dogs where is your back bone?

Professional cow milker and wielder of the golden alcathene Pete Dev has also confirmed he will competing in his first Grand Prix but is a veteran of the old 18 hole sessions.

So I will give regular updates on this blog on upcoming sessions and news in the Lovechickens. We have over a hundred members now and we also need to know whos coming to the big smoke on tour next year. So keep checking the blog – I will be doing fact files pretty soon and asking ‘friends’ to make comments.

Regards
The Rooster

PS doddering octogenarian Nunny has just confirmed…well saying that it was a phone call from ‘Greenglades’ retirement home telling the Coop that he has pissed three beds and will be made to go on pub golf on the 28th to stop him groping the Granny fanny

Does Morgatron write for 'The Simpsons' by THE Six Foot Jap

It was a cold and blustery Friday evening, one in which THE Jap wished the skies would open up and his love surf shack van rollercoaster up insight of heaven then plummet into the depths of hell. Where he’d have a quick cuppa with Beelzebub, and still make it home for Emmerdale Farm.


With only Emily Watson’s breasts to look forward to THE Jap decided to go on an adventure, an adventure that in the end cost him dearly, losing not only his girlfriend trust, his dignity, his money (swapped for some liquid thing called Guinness? Who’d have known!), but most importantly those few brain cells left that worked.


It was on the lonely drive home that the devil on his left-hand shoulder spoke with such vehement and wisdom that he turned to the angel on his right shoulder and bitch slapped her out the driver side window. Along with all his hopes of a quiet Easter break with Mrs. Jap.



Under the devils direction and a possessed hand THE Jap began to dial up the devils number 2, otherwise known as the Fergitron. Within minutes THE Jap had convinced himself a weekend of alcohol was the way forward, and sod everything and anyone else. THE Jap thinks the Fergitron’s to blame for that imbecilic thought process, in hindsight.


So with cloths packed, hair shaved, wallet bulging and the devil grinning, THE Jap set off to the Big City and depravity.

Upon reaching the Fergitron’s 10 minutes late THE Jap was in a rush and his alcohol blinkers were on, like a Hippopotamus and water, never stand in between him and his first Guinness, or prepare to be run over. Totally oblivious to his surrounding and drooling with anxiety, THE Jap swung his BMW into the nearest place to park, it could have been the Fergitron’s front room for all he cared.

Like a man possessed he thundered down the road into the nearest taxi. The strangest event ever witness was seconds away, in the background THE Jap could here some foreign old lady, maybe Greek, German or Italian calling out. The ‘CooooWeeeee’ing’ was getting closer and closer and at the loudness I would put money on the old lady being from Italy (what with all that olive oil they drink!), she was shifting some. You can imagine the horror on THE Japs face when he recognised the cooing of a 90 year old Italian virgin to be none other than a 45 year old (sorry Spen) Wirral Viking virgin. Under such confusion THE Jap did the only thing he could and told the driver to put her foot down.

As the taxi pulled off (without the Wirral Viking virgin) THE Jap had the feeling that he wished he could time travel, what with that first pint be so far off but yet so close.

As the Eli Jenkins approached and his brethren waiting inside the sudden warmth of being home arose in his stomach, much like the Fergitron’s two pints later when he drunk the nectar that is Jap’s urine at a forty quid loss to the social hand-grenade. Things were going down hill so fast. Mrs. Jap had rung 53 times to both Fergitron’s and Fat Jamie Oliver’s phone, she was looking for Mr. Jap! That devil on his shoulder loved it!

He was at home in Kiwi’s that night, even though THE Jap’s head was cleaning the floor, Beelzebub himself was his eyes and ears.

Back at the Fergitron’s after, how THE Jap got there he still does not know, but, for one things sure the devil had grown, and taken the form of Skibar, who continued to ply red wine into THE Jap’s mouth. It had gotten bad, THE Jap knew it had when he awoke next morning in a double bed with Pablo. I think his names Pablo, never was good with names, never bothered me THE Jap in his uni days, waking up next to girls he’d never met, never mind knowing their names.

THE Jap did wake however with a hope in his heart within the next hour he was to see the rugbying skills of the Fergitron and his bunch of merry assembly men.

The game kicked off at 11am with many a lovechicken still in the bar. Having missed the rules and shouting abuse for three quarters of the match the brood finally realised you was only allowed to run ten metres with the ball. Apoligies go out to all those abused. Apoligies also to the Fergitron who’s opening try was missed by all. The Jap is sure you have all heard about it by know.

And so to the big game Wales verses England, the pinnacle of a great day. What a win. THE Jap doesn’t know which shocked him most the win or the Morgitron. Every lovechicken was shouting and hugging and kissing and pumping their pint glass when THE Jap glanced across. Whereby he heard Morgatron whisper softly into his Mocha Choca-latte,

“Dear Lord: The gods have been good to me. For the first time in my life, everything is absolutely perfect just the way it is. So here's the deal: You freeze everything the way it is, and I won't ask for anything more. If that is OK, please give me absolutely no sign. OK, deal. In gratitude, I present you this offering of cookies and milk. If you want me to eat them for you, give me no sign. Thy will be done.”


In confusion THE Jap sat back down and stared into the bottom of his pint thinking he’d been spiked by some 1980’s acid tab, and was in the set of the ‘Simpsons’!

After leaving the Tavistock at 8pm his night does get a little hazy and he cant quiet remember what happens next can anyone help? He knows the places we went but who he spoke to was a blur. Top shout to the Flopsy Lloyd ‘brothers’ who managed to speak in Scottish accents the whole night. THE Jap could only manage the word ‘Guinness’ oh and ‘vodka and tonic’ not good when yoor stood by the bar all night!

It is only now three weeks later that MRS. Jap is finally speaking to THE Jap. He has lost his jeans and pants, and has gone to pick up the angel from the side of the road and has put her back on his right shoulder.

The moral he has learnt on this weekend is never lose the Fat Jamie Oliver, although he is boring and one toned, you always need him when alcohol takes over at the end of the night to look and laugh at! Here to you Fat Mike, you odd looking bastard!

My Super Saturday or I Knew It was All Going To Go Wrong From The Moment I arrived. by Spen the Wirral Viking

From the moment I arrived, I knew it was all going to go wrong. Having already had a shitty four-hour drive through Friday afternoon traffic, the one thing I really wanted to happen was to get to the junction with Treharris Street and find a stupid BINT cab driver parked right across it with her hazards flashing, looking at me with a "I don't really know what to do because I'm a woman and I shouldn't have a driver's license, never mind a taxi license" smile on her face. So in the time it took me to manouevre around her, some twat in a BMW Z3 who could clearly see I was going for a parking space practically handbrake turned to steal it. Parking further down the street, I was over the moon naturally then to see Big Will jump in aforementioned cab and fuck off without me.

The 20 minute wait for the next cab to turn up and the paying the solo fare was soon forgotten however on arriving at the Eli Jenkins, apparently named after the bloke with the lazy eye that used to be in Emmerdale, seeing old friends and meeting some new ones, and getting straight on the long drinks.

For once in my life I managed to pace myself on a Friday instead of the usual kicking the arse out of it and waking up on match day shaking like a shitting dog. Having said that, watching the Tron down a foaming pint of Big Will's still steaming piss for a meager £20 of Sam's cash was enough to sober anyone up. So I awoke feeling oddly fresh, despite having been spooned by a slightly irritable, Ross Kemp lookalike screw from Cardiff bighouse. Fortunately, I didn't have to share the shower with him as well like they do in the nick, and despite Ski's protestations, I was up and ready to go in LC official matchday attire by about 10am.

So it was with happy hearts that we piled into Pete the Meat's motor and took the magical mystery tour through some of the more salubrious Cardiff suburbs to (eventually) find the Glamorgan Wanderers ground where the Tron was soon to be prancing around like Cliff Morgan. This is when Part 2 of the things going wrong went wrong. Ferg gives me a handful of tickets for the game to distribute evenly amongst the LCs on arrival, as for some reason he thinks I'm sensible. These tickets included a serial number for the raffle to win two tickets to the Wales/England match. Of course I knew straight away and full well that despite having a pocket full of the fuckers, I would undoubtedly give away the winning ticket, but when I did, and it was Sam that got it, it didn't make me feel any better.

Notwithstanding the joyous sight of Ferg scoring a try straight from the kick-off, and knowing that we weren't going to hear the end of it, and getting a couple of comedy phone calls from Morgs (including the classic Morganism "Spenny, is this charity match starting at 12, or at 10.30? Because if it starts at 10.30, it's over already obviously"), I couldn't help being a bit pissed off about the raffle. Because Fergs doesn't have a monopoly on being childish.

But still, all down to the Tavistock to get beers and a decent enough seat to watch what would turn out to be probably the match of the tournament this year, France v Scotland, followed by the Part 3 of the things going wrong going wrong, namely Wales beating England. Even so, it too was a pretty good game, and apparently the Welsh have now finally come up with a new song to replace that old favourite "Way-yuls! Way-yuls!"; it's to the tune of Bread of Heaven and goes "We came fifth instead of sixth, we came fifth instead of sixth". I maintain that if Wales had the same, totally unjustified but complete and utter hatred for every country that they have for England, they could be World Champions. Like England.

Town was a strange affair after the match this year. The disaster movie weather effects didn't help proceedings, and all the decent bars having massive queues to get in, and all the empty bars being a bit shit, but those of us that braved it still managed to muster up a good time. That is until, of course, Part 4 of things going wrong went wrong. Instead of bowing to peer pressure and just going to Kiwi's, I decided that the flattering feeling of walking down the street to Lloyd's with a girl fifteen years my junior on each arm was preferable. And I have to say, it was as well. The girls were very nice, and humoured me by being surprised at some of my more contemporary musical tastes, but when they realised I wasn't going to buy them drinks all night, they politely made their excuses and we parted company. I managed to find my way to Kiwi's on the Tron's instructions, but no LCs were in there, so I thought quit while you're ahead and go home. Sadly, PC Rain was rounding up the revellers and taxis were like rocking horse shit, so I decided to brave the elements and walk it. Big mistake. I reckon I walked under every single fucking railway bridge in the city hoping one of them would be the one on the way home. Then, after about two hours and somewhere near Roath, a pissed-up youth got very upset that I didn't want to be his friend, and kicked off on me. At which point I was forced to grab him by the throat and bend him backwards over the bonnet of a Vauxhall Corsa. If that was your Corsa, I'm sorry about the wing mirror, but I don't know if it hit the floor so it might still be stuck up that kid's arse. Luckily for him (and me) he had a sensible, pacifist mate who stepped in and calmed him down, but not before I sustained an injury to my thumb that has left it looking like a black pudding.

Another hour and several degrees below zero later, I was just about to curl up in a shop doorway and quietly cry until I slipped into a coma, when I started to recognise fast-food places and pubs and realised I was back at the top of Treharris Street. And do you know, here's how happy I was to be there: The sight of a red-eyed, blotchy-faced drunken Ski still sitting up at 3.30am watching the Grand Prix and telling anyone who'd listen that he knew that bloke, was one of the best things ever.

Here's to the next one.

Strongbow - its over to you.........

Mmmmmm yum yum humble pie! Yes having thought the English would be made to look like chimps last Sunday, they performed and delivered the goods. I thought the French were beyond shit but the Saxons played the team in front of them and took their chances well. The 2 fly halves were great and I thought Catt was awesome. I have to say that his after game interview was one, if not the, best I have heard.

Wales on the other hand were clueless, Italy played with passion, guile and were great around the breakdown. Credit where its due, at least we went for the win rather than settling for the draw. The decision by the referee was absolutely fucking atrocious, I hope his Welsh missus is screeching at him now and making his life a misery.

I for one enjoyed the Scotland/Ireland match. John Inverdale whinged like fuck that it was a shit game and hoped the others would be better. Just because it wasn’t free flowing rugby doesn’t make it shit. If I want to watch sevens I would watch it. Sometimes you appreciate the grind of a forward orientated game, the intensity of rugby played in shit conditions and the tightness and excitement of an error strewn match. ahh the romance…. O ‘ Gara has played a fantastic six nations and I would put him in a Lions test team if there was a game tomorrow. The Irish must be kicking themselves that they didn’t shut out France.

So super Saturday is upon us and while I am expecting a small number of chickens down (about 20 – still not bad), I am still so excited I feel like weeing myself in excitement. The games look like a forgone conclusion but with a 6 nations like the one we have had who would bet on that.

The Irish are probably the best side in the 6 nations but how will they deal with a record breaking Italian side in Rome. Yes, the Italians have been hit through injury and that dirty twat Burger master being suspended for a sly dig but as Scotland showed if you drag Ireland down to your level then you can compete.

Scotland showed some dog last week but lacked a bit of composure. However how they perform will depend on what French team turns up. God, I know that’s so clichéd but if you compare the French team against Wales or Italy with the one that ran around like headless chickens last week then you would agree with me!

After last week the English go into the Welsh game with their tails up and are sure to be favourites. Wales have limped through the tournament with flashes of excellence against the Irish and the French. Their performance against the Scots was in the top 5 shittest performances by a Welsh side in my life time. That maybe another blog though. I think England will love to play against a unconfident below par Wales but with Alfie back in the team, Wales will perform but will it be enough?

Because chief fuck pigs, Snakey and Ski are down I pray to the gods that we win because they are fuckers. I seem to recall the last time Wales played England at home and LOST. Snakey and Ski were ill because they had drunk too much on the Friday, the giant fanny farts. Big news is that Lovechicken chairman Rob Jones is flying over from the States. Rob actually believes that everybody is frozen in carbonite until he returns and then we are released to have fun for a weekend.
Scary news is that Fuzz and Big Will are out so. I love watching 2 huge units of giant demented lumpness clear a perimeter of about 20 metres in every pub its like having your own personal VIP area creators.

The tiny difference this year is that many of the chickens will not be in pub drinking at 12 this Saturday but on the terraces watching the Fergatron play for the National Assembly for Wales against the Houses of Parliament. Fergatrons international career was cruelly cut short because of a lack of talent but while he has shit legs he has a big heart and a great knack for sly punching (ask Tew). So fuck the jocks and the Irish come and see Fergatron………

The rooster has decided to name and shame the following with regards to the Three Peaks challenge:

Length – miserable sod with huge nostrils – get paying
Fat Mike – Fat lipped Jamie Oliver lookalike with a extensive knowledge of Tonyrefail plus other division 4 west Welsh rugby teams – get paying
Taz – oval social hand grenade who cant spell – get paying


so with the weekend in mind - Strongbow - its over to you

Lovechickens walking up hills challenge 2007!

The 6 nations is now drawing to a close with 2 games to go, many of us have enjoyed various trips away to support our beloved Wales and despite a dire performance so far, there have been some awesome sessions.

Personally, Scotland for me this year lived up to its usual brilliance with a hardcore crowd of us living it up for 3 days in relative luxury, even though I did freeze my bollocks off in the match. I always say I’m not going to the match next time, but I always end up with a ticket in my hand and not enough clothes on to watch another Scotland v Wales thriller (yawn).

It was a shame some more of us couldn’t have made it (that’s a dig at you Roberts!) but we did have a few drinks to absent LC’s and we still love you all even though some of you annoy the shit out of me (in particular Ski & Bruce and your almost on this list as well now Roberts!!).

I must say that a big hand goes out to the Yanks this year. They arrived in force in Edinburgh and drank like legends. Its always good to see you guys and I hope to see you all very soon.

Anyway, to the point of this post. Once this years festivities are all over and done with and Wales beat Italy on Saturday and then go on to give England an even bigger tonking than they got in Croke Park; 4 brave and stupid souls among us have decided to do something good for a change and raise some money for a good cause.

The good cause is the National Deaf Children’s Society (and if one other person says ‘what?’ to me again when I mention the charity there will be a beating). The brave and stupid souls are me, Ferg, Pete The Meat and Phil Kite. And the challenge is to climb up Britain’s three highest mountains in 24 hours on the first weekend in June and we will be kindly driven round by Mr Devonald.

However, the hardest challenge of all in this undertaking will be to raise the money we have promised to the NDCS. We have agreed (maybe foolishly) to raise £5000 towards their cause which of course isn’t going to be easy!

We have now been fundraising for roughly 2 weeks and from our neat little totaliser to the right you will se that we are currently on £1616.02 out of a target amount of £5000 which is roughly 32% raised so far.

It is however with some disappointment that only £160 of this has been donated by you lot, the Lovechickens RFC membership!!!! Donating to this cause is not an option, giving us your hard earned cash is mandatory and the penalties for not donating will be very harsh!! Namely a severe beating, having to share a room with Morgs and a sucky eye off Ski! So you have been warned!

We have roughly 12 weeks to go before we undertake this challenge so we need to raise this cash as soon as we can. Together, the LC membership can give our funds a hell of a boost and set us well on the way to achieving our total!! So get your hands in your pockets right now and give us some of your dosh!

To donate, click on the ‘donate now’ button on the totaliser or visit:

http://www.justgiving.com/lovechickensRFC

Finally, we are currently one or maybe two team member short for this little stroll. So if any of you fancy laughing your way up and down three mountains then you will be welcome to join us. However, you must committed and be ready to raise some dosh towards the cause. If you do then let me or Ferg know as soon as possible.


Thank to all LC’s who have donated so far, you are excused from getting sucky eyed!!

Enjoy the rest of the 6 nations guys and I hope to see you all soon (except of course you Ski x).

Champers.

Wales v England 17th March - i love you sods i really do

Three of the greatest English heroes.
Left: Legendary Winter Olympian - Eddie 'The Eagle' Edwards
Centre: Shakespeare-esque super bard - Rick Waller
Right: Diplomat, Scholar and English Rose

No one dislikes the English as much as the Welsh except for the French, the Scottish, the Irish, the Italians, the Americans, the Australians, the Kiwis, the Germans, the Russians, the Swiss, the Norwegians, the Swedes, the Finns, all the Africans, the Asians, the Inuits, the Daleks, the Jawas, the Decepticons and the Cornish but that doesnt mean we arent fond of some of those critters. The older i get the more i realise that i need the colonising little buggers. This Club would not have been set up if it wasnt for one of them but then again he has been shit since 2001 but even i must write that many English people are the cornerstone of this club. People like the Kaahnt, Snakey poos and the legendary Ski Barr give us an extra dimension. Big Dave, Blue, Blue and his growing hair do and the Wirral Viking make us what we are today. There are so many more i can mention even that grumpy fuckface length but i will leave it as it is because i cant be arsed being nice anymore.


For our wonderful club this game is a weekend of laughter, drinking, pumping and hardly any sleep. It is a time where we hear those immortal words 'Lets meet up for a few on the Friday, nothing too big' - its the biggest load of shit since i heard the King of the Gays say 'I am a vegetarian because i choose not to eat meat, not because i think it gets me off with birds'.

So far the Coop has heard from a selection of Love Chickens who will be up for what is an official cap for the club.


Big news is that after living under a bridge and trying to deny the Billy Goats Gruff passage over it, Ski Barr is taking a break from serving tea to Kimi Raikonen and is coming down to take the piss out of me all Friday night and then look like shit all Saturday. London Welsh will be getting on his bike putting his shlong in a side car and being acompanied by the big Kaahnt and Mr Angry. London Welsh will pull by being aloof and pouting, the Kaahnt will mither the poor sods into submission while Mr Angry will take the piss out of girls until he and they are really really drunk and then end up putting his meat sword up the wrong scabard.......nice but true.


The 6 foot jap will take a giant shit in a sink, eat urinal cubes, spit on a girls head and then kick her up the arse then he will get drunk and start playing up.


remember - you need to tell the Tron if you are coming to win your cap - there will be naming and shaming, there will also be same for the people who have not yet sponsored the Lovechickens 3 Peaks challenge. You know who you are!


you may have noticed that i havent mentioned the Wales Italy game, its because i am shitting myself, i dont suppose the Saxons are overly keen on mentioning theirs or the jocks..........

What the fu......by the Rooster

Ferg has told me he really isnt raising money for deaf kids like Tews brother in law he is actually raising the money to get a contract killer out on whoever the fuck it was who decided to have Wales kick off a rugby match at 8 o clock at night.

While the Lovechickens of Fishguard went out to the game - some of our illustrious club went down to the town made famous for getting naked, easy young girls and whizz. other club members two Fannies, The Tron The Sofa Monster and Ladies Man then went to Fishguard Rugby Club for what seemed like 3 days of international rugby. Very chuffed with the results except obviously the Welsh one but unlike against Scotland, this time we actually played and i never have a problem about playing well and being beaten by a better side. I havent seen the English bum-fucked like that for a while but it was a marvellous occasion.

With a punchy twat like Ferg around you would expect him to be the centre of controversy - not so. with an hour left remainding The Sofa Monster issued a 'dab' to the boy who had just lost his Welsh amatuer boxing belt the week before for being 'a knob'.

so two games to go and two huge piss ups to go. beds are looking sparse at the moment in the Tron household but the cocky bastard London Welsh said that he is going to have a hotel room for the Sais match so he can pump birds. All i can say is can you remember the states you get in on international day in Cardiff - why not stay in 'Yoth from Merthyrs' hotel where you can snort bombay spiced potatoes and Samosas until the cows come home and get prossies!!!

any of you fuck faces in the club that have not given to the 3 peaks challenge should be ashamed of yourself except for people earning bog all - they should feel ashamed that they earn bog all.

anyway get it done you fucks

Scotland by London Welsh (or the best Saturday night i've had since I was 14 and did my first fingering)

FRIDAY
A late arrival. Due to my essex gym being on fire (seriously) I arrived, after 2hrs of sleep on the Thursday night, into "The Royal Mile" pub unsurprisingly situated on the Royal Mile. The beer flowed like wine and I was quickly "on the way".

GOD I love the Friday before international day. On to THE TRON, but which TRON did it relate to best? The upstairs was definately reminiscent of MorgaTRON - cosy, comfortable, serving food and darkness was certainly the medium. However, downstairs was the flip side, relating more to FergaTRON - loose women around, lots of beer flowing, willies coming out (just mine? sorry boys!) and there was an uncertain air about the atmosphere; you didn't really know what was gonna happen next.

After spending (in my opinion, far too) much time in the TRON, I abducted our young American Chicken (what was the name of the young american chicken in Chicken Run? This would be a good blog name) and took him off to the lively quarter of Edinburgh.
After paying a lot of entry fees to various clubs, we ended up in what was a cross between Zanzibars and Kiwis (on reflection, WHY did we not ALL end up there?!?!). ROCKY! That was the Chicken Run name! Mel Gibson, the Nazi warlord providing the voice.
Our boy ROCKY was on form with the drinks, not so much with the birds. I had my statutory kiss with a fat lummox and we called it a day - back to Radissons. A cosy, cultured cocktail with some other residents soon decended into chaos. I can't remember who exactly because I was "cunted" but I remember Morgs not having one shoe (SO FUNNY!) and our glorious leader ripping fuck into some attractive but pretentious early 30's Saxon female, it was golddust at one point - I believe something like "you know you want to fuck me really, i'm fucking lush, and you'll never do better again at your age" came out of his mouth. Sitting next to her was a male work colleague, who she was quite clearly going to bed with; he was not amused.


SATURDAY

I had one of my infamous match day sulks. I wasn't happy with waiting 5 mins for breakfast so i went to buy a shirt. Got back to the flat and there were willies everywhere, showering ready to go. Got mine out, played helicopters for Ferg cos I know how much he loves to see the magnitue of torque that is generated from the rotation. Out. Bookies. Olivers. Pints. I'll be blunt - the first tasted like Panda Piss. I'm not sure if bow with a splash of lemonade is allowed (please confirm), but I had to for the first couple.

There followed the worst five hours of the weekend. Eng v Italy. Poor show, lost money. There was another game, I refuse to comment. After that I was at a low. I needed a pick up big time. A confidence booster. Then she walked into my life...you can guess the one from Doug's pics. Those of you who can't guess clearly did not spend time with me during uni at 1:51am in Zanzibars/Cobarnas/Walkabouts in Newports. From there it was like playing the ladder game - each bird better than the last. Good times, it was indeed like being 16 again and tallying up the kissometer! It was dance dance dance - the Three Sisters was like a cattle market (size of fems & density of bodies). Where did we go then? Anyway, the boys who went know how it ended up on Sunday morning.

I now cannot wait until March 17th. I think we have a car pool from this end - Me, The Cock, The Aggressor and a potential LC from my gym. However he idolises The Papercut (sponsored by Tubigrip) so this may prove costly. Look sharp lads, the English are coming....

HOOTS! - SIX NATIONS FROM A SCOTSMANS POINT OF VIEW!!! by The Big Mac

The best game of the series, Scotland v Wales!

Anticipation is fever pitch inthe McKendrick household after the complete disappointment of the previous weekagainst England at the "Home of Rugby". ( more like a home for senile people whop*ss themselves!) You guys thought your reffing decisions were bad, ours were af***ing disgrace and we went to the TMO!!!

Anyway I digress, off to Edinburgh on a cheap return ticket in the Megabus,feeling very nervous, don't think our back row consisting of three no.8's willbe able to contain Martyn Williams and co. as they were badly exposed byEngland! That's the last time I mention those Ba****ds!My good lady who was also travelling with me appeared to be just as nervous butfrom a Welsh perspective! I see no reason for this as you guys competed for thefull 80mins and had most of the possession and territory against Ireland "GrandSlam Favourites" to use their full name this season!!Got to our capital and headed straight for our favourite haunt "OLIVERS" sceneof many a famous night with the "chickens!" was so nervous had 3pints before Ihad a chance to take my coat off! Good chat amongst supporters about theforthcoming feature while some background game was taking place!!

What can I say about the game, couldn't believe my eyes, we ( the Scots) tookyou guys apart up front so I didn't have to worry about our back row cos we werein control of the ball at the breakdown.Stephen Jones had a game to forget apart from a superb try saving tackle onChris Paterson and Hook was not a threat cos he never got the ball. Thought theref was a bit harsh on disallowing Rob Dewey's "try" but still Happy days!! Sorry if I'm gloating but it might be the only chance I get to be happy duringthis six nations campaign as Italy are up next and I really don't see ourforwards exerting that much control for the majority of the game! (May be theonly serious rugby point I make in this blog!)

Don't remember much after the game except consoling my "loved ones" probablyjust as well as I'm told we went to a proper sit down restaurant for food whichcost £50 a head!! F**k me I know we won but I wasn't that happy!!!! Reckon itwas El's (my girl) way of getting back at me for gloating, you know how aScotsman and his money are not easily parted! Although I think that is a viciousrumour started by the English! Sh*t I said I wasn't going to mention themagain, better sign off now before I give them a compliment!

Look forward to Super Saturday on the 17th March, El and I are flying down toCardiff in luxury with BMI Baby so we're going to live it up in the City Armsduring the games! Hope to catch up with any of you Lovechickens soon!

Love chicken news by the Rooster

Now the Rooster is very much like the Dark Overlord of the West, Fergatron when it comes to bringing Girlfriends and wives along during Wales/England days. Personally anybody who does should be fingered to death but not by normal size fingers, not even fat stubby fingers like Roberts’ or Taz’ but by the Hindu God Ganesh who is actually half elephant. Yes, so there is the warning: don’t bring Girlfriends to the pub to watch Wales/England.

However skimpily clad young femmes are allowed and so are mistresses...................

Left: Ganesh and he means it!

LC news

Scotland was one of the best weekends that has ever been and I will be able to give a full account once someone tells me what actually happened. One shining light was the time when Ferg, Dev and Snakey were in a club and over saunters The Morgatron, everything seemed fine, we even managed a wee dance and then realised that Morgs only had one shoe. He was then as much use as tits on a fish for the whole tour until he had 36 pro-plus tablets and then lost everybody.

London Welsh has the biggest willy this world has ever witnessed (Ski is THE biggest cock that the world has ever witnessed but that’s by the by) but Ferg has come to the conclusion that there is no joy in his pulling, his technique while pretty flawless lacks the flair and can only be described as ‘workmanlike’ by his peers.

Jamie Roberts the Love Chicken who looks most like an Arab got married. One of the only Lovechickens who is actually nice to people, we wish him well and remind him that his life is now over, she should be changing about now………..I will get the full round up from the 10ft turk copper very soon

The Lovechickens are off to Paris this weekend. Chief Wigham and Mitch ‘the Tige’ Mitchell will be taking the Fishguard Lovechickens to the land of romance and surrendering. For Floppsy Thomas and Gar San Francisco, this is a journey into the unknown, the last time these two went abroad was to Lemington Spa in 2003.


Upcoming events

Wales/England

I want a bumper gang of miscreants up for the Wales/England match. Friday will again be a day of the gathering where we pretend that we aren’t going to drink much, drink too much and have a really tired shit Saturday until we are twatted about 9 o clock.

The Fergatron will be playing rugby for his workplace against the House of Commons. Don’t mock, many people would pay a lot of money to be allowed to step on MP’s heads. Whilst he probably wont win Man of the Match he will undoubtedly receive most handsome player and wittiest man on the pitch.

Early news is that Veteran Lovechicken ‘Belly’ will be coming up from the land of the lilies where he will spend all day bickering with Clysts followed by an hour missing home, followed by an hour dancing like a gay.

If he is not dead, Nunny is also up for a sesh.

It’s a cap – nuff said!?!

Oh yeah Vegetarian Neil will not be there, he is saving orphan dolphins and then off for some valuable R and R in Angola – health check anybody? Actually thinking about it – I honestly think he has just come back from Thailand which means the reason he has been so quiet is because he and his new wife Rochelle-Derek wu hin are settling down in Cardiff.

Regards you Bummers

Over the pond by our Beloved Chairman (if you dont enjoy this you have to drink 4 fingers)

Fellow Chickens - this is the first attempt from The Chairman at this new fangled thing called Blogging. In my hey day, things like this never happened - talking about what you did during the 6 nations and on previous weekends was a big no no. We would lock ourselves in our swamps on the Sunday, not answer any phone calls and not entertain any calls to the door. The reason for this is obvious to those of you who have spent a weekend in Cardiff in Kiwi's. We are all too afraid for anyone to tell us what kind of nasty dog we got off with, and how many foolish things we did, and what time we turned into shandies, drinking alcopops. these stories would remained locked in our tiny minds, only to be resurrected on the next 6 nations weekend or tour to Scotland etc.

Seeing as I am locked away in my own hellish nightmare for all the bad things I did in my youth, I must pay my penance and try and spread the gospel across the pond. Here is my story from the start of the 6 nations. Tried to get enthusiastic from Wednesday - knowing the best game on the planet is about to start for real, I have tried to get the locals intrigued by showing them the Magners league and Heineken cup- got a lot of interest 4 people. Especially after some of them saw the Ospreys V Sale last minute try and the Toulouse V Llanelli matches. Was there hope of Wales reproducing this magic? For some reason all I got was " so you guys are playing some game before the Superbowl Sunday, not sure I can do an all day down the Bar" What could I do I was desperate, Thursaday and Friday had come and gone, I managed to reserve a Table at some posh Irish bar in Alexandria (the owner brought $3 million dollars worth of wood from Ireland) - what the f**k was the reason for that. Friday night I was down the pub trying to get people to come out on Sunday- all they could talk about was this bloody Superbowl. I did get 5 definites at the end of the night - and then I told them the game was on at 9 am Sunday!!!

Sunday - Game time Up at 7 am - got my Jersey off the Hanger - pacing for 1.5 hrs - Bar would not open until 9am. Taxi arrived off to the game Waahey. Got to the bar - 8 Irish supporters and me and my Woman (Sorry Ferg but I needed all the support I could get), 5 of my friends turned up and we settled down to half price Guiness at 9am. Almost felt like home - then I heard it - coming from somewhere down in the depths of the cellar. C'MON WAAAAAALES -you all recognise the high pitched nasty screech of a fishwife from Swansea. I turned and there she was, a glass of red wine in one hand, and some poor bast##d propping her up on the other. I turned to my girlfriend and said "that is the reason no women, no children". So we all settled down to watch the game - me, my friends and the banshee, unfortunately worse was to follow, kick off, 5 mins charge down try Ireland- Bugger.

Could it get any worse - Yes I am living in the USA - The fishwifes man - turns to me and starts explaining the tactics the Welsh should be using- not only is he a Yank, but he's using American Football terms what an ar#e. 8 Guiness' later game is over - Rob very pi**ed off with the world. All my friends leave and fishwife gives me her phone number - great. My girlfriend and I end up going on an all dayer - we get twa**ed, she slaps me in the face( amazingly this is the first time I have ever been slapped, and considering some of the things I've done in the past it was a surprise, as I hadn't done anything), go home goto bed.

Not a good weekend, so I am buying a ticket today and coming home for the Wales V England - arriving Thursday leaving Monday. I understand it is an official cap - so I expect every man to do his duty, otherwise you may have the kind of day I had. I shall send you the next game in a few days - this was watched in Vegas.

I’m as Bored as a 5 Minute talk with Fat Mike! by THE 6ft Jap (LC 92ish)

Time comes once in a while when THE Jap thinks to himself ‘you have to get a life!’ All I have heard over the past fortnight is, ‘I did this’ and ‘I did that’ and THE Jap has had enough of staying in. Wales are playing like Treherbert RFC (What division are they in Jew? As if we want to listen!) So the Welsh contingency of the brood can’t celebrate victories, so THE Jap has come up with excuses for an uber drinking session the same day that we play the French. We all can fit into one category.

After much salivation, masturbation, deliberation, and then more masturbation THE Jap came down to three reasons to get pissed in Cardiff on the 24th February 2007. Bare with me chickens this is a bit abstract but all true.


On our first attempt to lace our boots (15 aside level) at the hallowed ground that is UWN rugby field, THE Jap learnt one valid lesson! And it wasn’t about drinking piss, if you were thinking that! THE Jap has drunk piss for many years now, it’s a step down from eating pineapple urinal cube, but hey we all slum it now and again. All you chickens who have visited Kiwi’s know that.

No brood, the valid lesson that THE Jap had was in the realms of ‘Nature’. A lengthy conversation with fellow bald teacher FUZZ, lead to the longest hunt in recorded history for what seemed to be the most ridiculous fact ever made.

“The most vicious animal on the African continent is THE HONEY BADGER!”

As you can understand this caused a few laughs, but the once Ginger, now bald chicken stuck to his guns (and rightly so!). With disbelieve the hunt for the Honey Badger was on, and after much googling and painstaking sweat THE Jap finally found what he was looking for at:-

http://www.honeybadger.com/

Check it out! This leads to THE JAPS first reason for drunkenness

‘THE LIFE OF A HONEY BADGER!’

(Put it on a T-shirt fellow love chickens).


My second excuse is a bit closer to my heart than the other two. On the 24th February 1975, Mr Alun Roy Williams put his wanger into Mrs. Jillian Anne Williams and thrust for 2minutes 56 seconds in the vestibule at St Mary’s church Pontypool. Thus creating THE ‘truly holy’ JAP!

So putting it bluntly the 24th February 2007 is a day to be celebrated as:-

‘THE 6FT JAPS 32nd CONCEPTION DAY’

(Don’t put it on a Tshirt!)



THE Japs final reason for drunkenness on international day is one not to be taken lightly! Having read many email from chickens World wide over the past 2 weeks, none made me laugh as much as the boasting and bragging of London Welsh, otherwise known as ribs’n’dick! An email sent on the Wednesday, 07 Feb 2007 at 01:27:38, in reply to a needy brood member who needed rugby tickets, stated;

”Mate I should be able to from the concierge at Tower 42. He's a man who knows how to get things... Chez”

Now THE Jap has told a porky or two in his life, and boasted about friends in high places, but this takes the biscuit, London Welsh or is it MR. BIG? He’s only been in Saxon land for 2 minutes, (56 seconds less than our dad was in our mam) and the Banantyne wannabe thinks he’s a walk in on Hotel Babylon!

Which leads to my final reason for going out and celebrating, if London Welsh is true to his word then after my short email to him, the concierge at Tower 42, should have acquired THE Jap, King Arthurs Excalibur and a 1998 Buzz Lightyear original (in the box)! If not THE Jap is personally going to ask Big Doug to fetch the branding iron next time he’s over and stamp the fluer-de-lys on London Welsh’s extremities!

‘I WILL HAVE MY EXCALIBUR PLEASE CHEZ!’

(Tattoo it on your ass fellow chickens)


So fellow lovechickens choose religion, choose a TV, and choose an egg sandwich if you like. But find a reason to drink for the France v Wales game because THE Jap is out in Cardiff and wants some friends!!! (This is a desperate plea!)

NOTHING HAPPENED - what goes on tour.........

and anybody reading this should know this by now...more later though once i get some feeling back in my fingers

my bloody broken body by the Rooster

Oh woe is me and woe is my bloody head and the rest of my bloody body. Its Tuesday night and I can honestly say that this has been the first moment that I haven’t felt like the gusset of Tews ‘sofa’ pants since I rolled in some time after midnight on Monday morning. As is the Roosters want and showing that I am still one of the most prolific seshers the world has ever seen, I was in the pub at 1300hrs ahead of the Italy/France match. The match was a load of shite and I have to hold my hands up and say that I really thought that Italy would compete and give the Frogs a game. However the French never read my script and I thought a few of them played especially well and I would single out Chabal and the little scrum half Mignoni. I would also like to point out to the unbelievers that The Rooster did put some money on Dominici scoring the first try so I haven’t lost it yet.

While King Voltan thought the next game was a bit disappointing, other than the result I thought the Sais played really well and Wilkinson played fantastically, however the media have now attacked the Vatican city for not making Jonny a saint with an hour of him getting a shower. Fargin hell the hype was unbelievable even by English standards. England showed what all we thought and that was you don’t have shit English sides for long. I just don’t understand why the Scots didn’t target Jonny and Andy Farrell and they were let off.

Not that I remember the last ten minutes of the match anyway, It was the beginning of the end and by this time I had been joined by uber chickens Alex eyebrows and The Morgatron. They decided to make my night harder and I also remember effin eyebrows buying a bottle of wine.
I ended up asleep in Kiwis and luckily while walking home I bumped into some people from the BBC. What would you do?


You are hanging out of your arse so instead of trying to get home to sleep in a warm bed with the Atatollah I decided to go back with the BBC and drink wine. Which meant when I came to in the morning I actually ended up going straight to the pub, smelling of Saturday with breath like Chernobyl. I was accompanied by a giant from the old Welsh kingdom of Ceredigion and Fat Mike. Fat Mike accosted me and talked to me for a whole 5 minutes on how great Cwmbran RFC are………it was probably longer than 5 minutes but I had fallen asleep again.
I must imagine for neutrals this game was pretty good, for me it was about the cheating Micks messing about in the rucks and the most stupidish referee in the world who I have taken a contract out on, I didn’t think that anyone was going to annoy me more than Brian ‘I want to suck off the entire English team’ Moore but he did – he is a fucking knob and I hope he falls over.

Back to the game, I did think that Ireland still deserved to win but they are far from the team tipped to be champions after the autumn internationals.
After the match I continued to drink and then sang for 7 and ¾ hours running out of songs that by the end when the Irish fans asked us for another song I bent into ‘Back for Good’ by Take that. I can only thank god that there were enough birds in their late twenties in their pub that saved me looking like twat. Actually so successful were me and my bitches I also got away with Relight my fire and I did the Lulu part………..


The atmosphere after the match was subdued but that was because it was a bloody Sunday, papers today say that the city lost about 40% of its takings.
So now that I have recovered I have a day and a bit to get ready to start drinking in Scotland. Even writing this I feel a little bit of sex wee coming on. This really is an Elite drinking team and with London Welsh coming up we will be introducing new STD’s to a foreign land. There will also be the largest contingent of travelling yanks to hit these shores since half way through World War II………….


The games? England should bend Italy but the British (English) Press will be upset because Jonny only scored a hat trick and 5 drop goals but failed to halt Global warming and secure peace in the Middle East. Ireland/France in Croke Park will be an absolute humdinger of a match, one that will make us fans salivate. France have made a few changes which makes you wonder but they have quality throughout while the Irish who under performed by their lofty standards on Sunday should perform a lot better at home. I think the Irish should do it and now that they have beaten us I wouldn’t mind them going all the way – Dublin is still a shit pit for International weekend.


As for us and the sweaty socks (Jocks – Thanks Ski) I do believe that we have the team to beat them. They really do play above themselves in Murrayfield and with the exception of 2005, we always travel there with a better side and we usually make hard weather of it. We need Shanklin back and a bit of penetration on the wings. I am glad the slow poison that I managed Luscombe to ingest actually works as I would rather have Sammy the Seal in the backs than that cack handed fecker.

Anyway losers, I am going to sign off but keep sending in your blogs. I am going to have as much fun as one man can have with loads of his best mates around in a place full of like minded people. First one who guesses the score wins a authentic great Scottish Heroes tea towel featuring a picture of the Osmonds, Jimmy Krankie and Rab C Nesbit.
Breaking news is that it looks like Wales and England will be covered by a blanket of snow, on Wednesday I am going to go to mass, have a chat with the big Man and tell him that he better get me to Scotland otherwise his favourite son will be pissed off and will defect to Neil, Sam and Big Wills side.

As this yank sees it - By King Vultan of the Birdmen

France demolished Italy, as most of the wiser amongst us suspected theywould. Italy have improved greatly, but they play Rugby the way we Yanksplay soccer - mechanically sound, sometimes even technically sound, andoccasionally brilliant, but with no instinct for the game. They can't closethe deal - they can't make the last pass. Gove France credit for gooddefense - but my guess is that France good have retired to the pub at aroundthe sixty minute mark, and it still would have taken Italy 7 minutes toscore. It reminds me of the way the rest of the world used to playbasketball. They did everything fundamentally sound, but they never lookingfluid - very mechanical but never in danger of a behind the back or no lookpass. No flair and not instinct for the try line.

The England - Scotland match was a mild disappointment from my perspective.I expected more from Scotland, but Kudos to England for a well played match.For a bunch of lads whom I had heard little or nothing about (other thenVickery, Wilko, Lewsey, Corry et al), they played well and with some realpassion, Christ next they may even have some flair from the backs! Anyway,Scotland's backs looked at sixes and sevens even when they did get the balland always seemed to be on the back foot (again, Kudos to England for theexcellent defense).


I am looking forward to next weeks matches - I expect that Wales willprevail against Scotland. I fancy it to be close, but I think Wales willprevail - if they can get quick ball (as they sometimes did againstIreland), and run like they did, I think they will get the upper hand on theScots. England will have no problem with Italy - as a matter of fact, if Iwere Italy I wouldn't show up until half time - the score will be about thesame and they'll take less of a pounding. Italy will be brave in defense butwill eventually be ground down by the relentless English pressure. It willbe slightly more entertaining to watch that paint drying, but just barely.Ah, but Ireland - France, in Dublin - now that will be a cracker. I thinkthe Irish will prevail, but they will have to bring their A game - anythingless and the Froggies should prevail. As opposed to the Welsh last weekend,the froggies can make that last pass or break that last tackle and score. Ofcourse, if the Froggies bring the side that played the first test againstthe AB's in November - then they need bother showing up at all. I'm backingIreland by a whisker in this one, but a French victory wouldn't surprise menor would it be an upset.

Was all just a nightmare! by Campo's lovechild

It was as I said a Dallas style three year nightmare and I have woken up. What a weekend. England looked more like their old selves. I know the Wilkinson trie wasn’t a trie but hey, sometimes the decisions go your way so I’m not complaining. Wilkinson was awesome and the opportunist trie by Billy Whizz was why he is back in the side. OK Scotland weren’t really firing on all cylinders and didn’t compete for every ball but what England needed was a boost in their confidence and we got it. Still a lot of work to do to get back but it is a great start. Defence looked shaky at times but that gives us some focus to work on. Roll on the rest of the Six Nations.

Didn’t watch the France v Italy game as I was under the bonnet of my car up to my armpits in grease and oil but did manage to finish on Sunday at about 5pm and then sat down to watch the Wales v Ireland game on Sky +.

Brilliant! I know you lost but you should have won. Key decisions went against you which probably would have sealed you the game. I think Ireland were getting away with murder on the ground and killing the ball which the Ref seemed to be oblivious to. Maybe I was watching a different game to everybody else but the amount of turnover ball being won by Ireland shouldn’t have been happening. I think S Jones didn’t have the best game of his life and didn’t want to take on his opposite number. He sat way way too deep so by the time he moved the ball out the Irish backs were ready to smash the unfortunate receiver. Your backs just didn’t look as sharp as they had over the Autumn and made too many wrong decisions. You need Shane Williams to bring that bit of spark back. James Hook made too many errors but not sure about that Free Kick fiasco, I don’t think he presented the ball at all. Peel for me was the man of the match, he was awesome and his vision at the quick starts was brilliant. Great game wrong result. The tempo through the whole match was unbelievable and the guys must have been hanging out of their arses by the end. I’ve got to say that Ireland are big and strong and you can’t give them an inch but didn’t look that inventive. Just battered their way through.

Can’t wait for the rest of the tournament now as an Englishman we have hope restored with the return of our core players and every digit crossed that Mr Wilkinson remains fit until the end of the year at least.

England/Scotland by the Silver Rhondda Fox

It looks as if Brian Ashton is not the only one trying something a bit different this weekend. This is my first ever Blog entry – ever! See how far Mrs. Evans’ boy has come from the Valleys!!

Anyway, the former bath boss is known as an attacking coach but looking at the team he has picked for this weekend it doesn’t look as is he is going to be getting the juggernauts of the Northern Hemisphere throwing the ball around as if it is on fire. Corry is looking in good form after having the captaincy taken off him. Glad Grewcock is in as there is man who likes to take 10 minutes off, usually in the second half for a breather

While the selection of Wilkinson and Farrell have caused a few eyebrows to be raies especially as the veteran Johnny has not really played much in the way of tiddlywinks let alone rugby in the last few years, you cannot deny that there is a quality to the English backs that was lacking under Robinson. Corry is looking in good form after having the captaincy taken off him. Glad Grewcock is in as there is man who likes to take 10 minutes off, usually in the second half for a breather.

England certainly have what appears to be an easy draw to start with (Scotland then Italy) and if the players carry their Heineken cup form into this competition they will be in with a shout of the Championship but not I think of the Grand Slam, Ireland are still my hot favourites.

Scotland on the other hand, have been showing signs of improvement over the last couple of months. This game last year had a couple of lucky factors for the Scottish:

A home game for Scotland
Very bad conditions
The worst England team in a long time.

The Scottish fans are looking forward to the weekend but more in hope than expectation.
Let’s hope that Hadden’s selection of Paterson at 10 doesn’t happen in the last ten minutes of the game when the English are 30 points ahead and out of sight and there is my prediction for the weekend. The English pack will be too strong for the Scots and the English backs will have and easy opener for the tournament.

My View from Londinium by London Welsh

My View from Londinium

With the six nations imminent, almost all talk in the capital City of Saxonia is of the Return of the King. Mr Papercut is set to start an England international for the first time in over three years. God, the last time he played I was still working my way through my third batch of Freshers! There is a sense of expectancy, of a backlash from new beginings (even with old names creating those beginings) and I for one am looking forward to seeing the 10-12 paring of the afformentioned Tubigrip and a Double Hard Rough Northern Bastard*. Oh, how much pressure has been lifted from him in the wake of Elastoplast's return?

Dodgy Blindside to World Class 12 in six months. Hmm, if only Jason White were fit...! But one issue is exciting me incredibly. The prospect of seeing the Orange One hitting the line from 15. He has been criticised in the media by ignorant, condecending old hacks like Butler for not being dependable and missing tackles, but i'd prefer him there over fucking Kevin brittlebones Morgan. I just hope that he gets the nod. I do fear the worst if Robinson or Luscombe start at 13 though, O'Driscoll will make them look lika a fool.

On a lighter note, I am sleeping much happier now in the knowledge that Katherine Jenkins lives here in Londinium. I know that greatness gravitiates to greatness, and she will find me soon. Long walks in Regent's park, an afternoon date on the London eye, a brothel in Soho. I know she will be game for all. I cant wait to see her Sunday in her little Wales shirt and bum hugging jeans. MMMM. She's got some fucking tits on her too you know! Undecided whther to hit cardiff Sunday, it may be spontaneous.

London Welsh

*Some exceptances are made to being Northern and Hard, notably Spenny and "are Jayyson frum Mertha"

Yr Eidal 19 - 25 Ffrainc

Ahh Tour - Cant wait for Edinburgh!

Spaff your pants its the Six Nations!!!

The Six nations are upon us
“This is it this time I know it’s the real thing!” that’s what Dannii Minogue said in her top ten hit of 1993. I think the stupid cow was talking about a man but I am sure the sub text pointed to the start of what was the five nations. The man she was singing about probably kicked her into touch probably because he had shagged her already and the mental bitch was singing a song about him and Dannii moved on to hot singles like…er…..all I want to do…er anyway whilst this was happening the 5 nations evolved into the six nations when the pasta guzzling excessive gesture monkeys the Italians joined the Party.

In their infinite wisdom the twats in the governing body decided to place the away trip to Italy for Wales in the same season as the away trips to Scotland and France, two of our favourite trips leaving us to try and decide to go to Dublin, the rudest city since Paris circa 1940 when they accidently let in 5 divisions of Germans and sullenly let them stay for 4 or so years or Twickenham the place that closes at 9 at night so international night is spent on an underground. What next Sunday internationals……..

But forget the whinging for a bit – its nearly time for the Six Nations!

The Six Nations – already there is a tightening in the stomach in anticipation of the teams, the games, the friends and the seshes – it is what a real mans life is about. This year we have the added excitement of it being a 6 nations in a World cup year so our hard-ons are that little bit harder. So what do we expect from the teams in the six nations. I wont comment on Wales but will look at the others

England
As much as I want imperialist pigdogs to eat muck, I think they may be the surprise package. For us (As in the entire human race) we collected a lot of money for the RFU to keep Robinson on but still they get rid of him. Ashton will refresh this English team and I think they will play well. I am also gutted that Robinson and Catt are back – they are great players. It was these great players who snuffed us out in the battle of Brisbane quarter final 2003. I wouldn’t call Lewsey old guard as I think he would make a great English captain (if I was English). People write them off but they did beat South Africa and that’s something we havent done for a whil

Ireland
If I was Ireland I would get a big fuck off saw and cut away Dublin and float in into the sea. The bad side of this would be that it might float towards Wales so we would have to buy a big fuck of stick and push it away towards other places which are pretentious and up their own arses. I have seen more Craic at the top of Tews arse. Anyway this team is awesome but I think is hit really badly by Horgan being injured, he really is a monster. Even though it has taken him about 30 years, I think that O Gara is playing really well and Stringer is consistent but I think that Boss is a much better scrum half. The backs are great even though Hickie looks like an Alchi. BOD is amazing and love watching him play because everyone thinks he is a nice bloke when secretly he is a right cunt and is so competitive. On the form in the autumn series these bois should do it. I would have loved to have seen Ireland play the Kiwis on a shitty day in Dublin. Even if they won I bet the Irish team wouldn’t have been allowed into pubs in groups of more than 2 – and then get charged a fucking fortune for a pint of shit that tastes exactly the same as the one you get from down your local pubs. Pull your heads from your arse – it does travel!

France
Uber clichéd I know but which team will turn up? Will it be the shiny cheesy mercurial warriors or a set of fat shits intent on fighting. Whatever I say about them they will do the exact opposite like Neil. They will be under pressure because its their world cup in the autumn and I think their coach who looks very much like snakey Sheldon has used about 300 players last year and that was just at fly half. Italy will scare the shite out of them on Saturday.

Scotland
I bluddi does do love Scotland – the finest trip in the six nations. Where the bouncers let you do whatever you want except sleep. The Jockinese are great – god bless ‘em
They have to admit that they performed way above themselves and their own expectations. Beating England and France was fantastic for them and if they hadn’t had a man sent off and we hadn’t have had Gareth Thomas they would have had us as well. They will miss Jason White who is a cracking player but they still have the likes of Chris Paterson and Simon Taylor who are class. They also have the Krankies and Russ Abbott in a ginger wig. The six nations needs a good Scotland team and I wish the Scottish regions would start to get their act together. I mean what is the fucking point of Edinburgh playing in a 55 thousand seater stadium in front of 4000??? Why not play in a 4000 seater and have some atmosphere – plums. I think Frank Hadden is a great coach and can and will have to work miracles.

Italy
Havent been on tour to Rome but have been there quite a few times and I like it. Cant drive and cant win wars but is starting to build a quality side under le petit General (no, not my cock) Pierre Berbizier. Their pack are quality and it is generally accepted that in Castrogiavanni they have one of the best props in the world. In the autumn internationals they pushed Argentina and Australia and we cant forget that last year when we six nation champions and playing at home we managed a draw!!! They need consistent and talented half backs to control things like they had with Dominguez and Troncon who is back in the squad.

So that’s the teams – I haven’t the vocabulary to express how excited I am and you should be to (well some of you…for many of you its business as usual but that’s because you don’t have lives or mates anymore you boring twats – honestly just because you enjoyed a few lagers and snogged a bird in 1993 at Uni doesn’t mean your Olly Reed, really you have missed out on loads of fun – but no worries at least you afforded those new curtains).

While some of the chickens are in Scotland while the others are in France we are also going to have the mother of sashes the weekend of the Wales England match. contact me in order to tell me if you are attending this petit soiree. People are up for it and we might even get an appearance off one of our glorious founders the rotund gwar Cock (eral). It is an official cap so I expect the regulars like that fat lipped Jew, the perverted cow fingerer and the champagne didi do from Bedrock but I also expect all the bois. It will be the last one for a while.

The Six Nations are here and it is time for the gathering, lets get ready to rumble!!!

The Rooster is out saturday and Sunday - any takers?

Kiwis flashback - hide the knives

Last seen leaving a house in Inverness street in Cardiff in 2003 claiming to have David Campese's Lovechild growing in her womb............

hmm let me look into my shiny crystal Balls

So we have suckled at the big fat bosoms of the whore we call Christmas until, sated and looking and feeling like a hungover Taz living in the skin of Skis left scrotom sack, we prepare ourselves for another year of responsibility, hardship and necessity.
Yes life is hard, a savage garden of birth and death, illness and suffering a reminder of our mortality and our short time on this earth. But as with all aspects of nature there must be balance, where we have life we must also live our lives listening out for the footfalls of the Reaper. Where there is darkness there must of course be light and so where there is the dreariness of modern life and the plodding along of family, partners, dating, shopping, visiting people, DIY and bills there is us, the boys, the Lovechickens, the lads, mates or as some of our partners know us as; Them.

So as Lovechickens what do we have to look forward to in 2007, I am no mystic Meg but being of a Celtic persuasion I do believe I have magical powers (20 pints and 10 bottles of blue shite and I can still get home on my own – how do you like that David Blane yer prick?!) so as I look into my pint pot with the remnants of Strongbow lurking at the bottom I scry for the future for the next few months.


January
Pete Dev will be 35 years old this month, I wont – ha ha. By the fucker a pair of Wellies and a cow.

February
The Six Nations are here YAY!!! This is our Christmas, the Holy Grail of blokeism where the year comes alive and we can go out and be ourselves. Book your dates off now because I am sick to fucking death of hearing shit excuses. The worst one - that I didn’t know – GET A FUCKING LIFE!! OK? You know now so get some back bone and tell your missus or book time off work. It doesn’t have to be a Lovechickens weekend of monumental proportions but please remember these are our holy days and should be treated as such.
February is the month for the Lovechickens bi-annual tour to Scotland. My favourite tour by a square mile. I don’t understand a word anyone says so it feels like I am abroad but they use pounds so I know its not and they are a Celtic nation so I feel like I belong there – great. See The Fergatron for details but be aware you will have to kip on the floor and get your own way up.


With the war in Iraq going so badly the British Government asks Chris Moyles lookalikey Taz Stone to take over peace keeping duties in Basra. Within a few hours of the ham fisted fucker arriving and having a few beers he decides to pick a fight with coalition forces who are trying to be his friend, within months he becomes the figurehead for Sunni and Shia insurgents alike. He unites the country and drives the capitalist infidels from the land becoming the leader. Like his degree he relies on his class mates to actually run the country and gets bored after a few months and becomes a basketball coach amongst the pygmy tribes of Indonesia.



Morg Hart enrols into the Cannonball run. A race across America against some of the finest racers in the world. He becomes a firm friend of JJ Maclure (Burt Reynolds) but that only gets him so far because numb nuts cant drive to save his life and during a tricky left turn while indicating and using wipers Morg crashes into the start line.
This time the smart birds don’t win, Dean Martin and the funny black bloke does. David Coulthard came second and Ski came third because he was jammed so far up Davids arse at the finish.

Tew got off his sofa a record eight times in a month his best this century and since 1999.
Big Doug is named by the United Nations as a new continent. Dougonia is situated smack bang in the Atlantic and is covered in deep forests known as Pete Farrells and Alex photos eyebrows.

Aliens land in North Wales after they intercepted a phone call between the Gog Lovechickens, Champers and Bruce. The Aliens who can only communicate in what seems like short bursts of guttural sounds believed the Gogs to be marooned fellow aliens. Once the landed and found out that the Gogs were just sub-standard humans they decided to help them by giving them the gift of fire.

Ches catches an STD but I hardly need to be a fucking seer to know that is going to happen.
Ches, who has a bigger pout than Daniel Craig gets caught ten timing when he accidentally invites 9 of his birds over to his missus’ house for tea. She starts crying and he loses it saying that he needs space, its all her fault and she is suffocating him.

Fuzz and Big Will drink 20 pints of ‘Bo and Orange’ and get to the finals of Strictly come dancing eventually losing to twinkle toed celebs Rick Waller and Dawn French.
Forsyth, B – So boys how do you think you did?
Williams, F – Well my speciality is mainly freestyle but this suited me and Will just fine and I think that 20 injured with 2 fatalities is pretty good.
Will, B – Ida do love dancing and things especially with youm

Bald, anal and Squeaky defender of justice Snakey Sheldon is recognised as the policeman who has the most arrests in Police history. The short monkey type creature who looks like annoying gay Marco from Big brother 4 or 5 has notched up an amazing 300 arrests in 3 years. It has been worked out that Doughnut loving flumpster Phil Kite, on his current rate, will have to stay in the police Force for 116 years to get half of that, seeing that in 10 years on the job he has arrested just 10 people, none of them while having a straight face.

There are only 2 weeks to go till the holy grail - if you want to join the Lovechickens fantasy rugby league give me a ring, just watch Chris Parry try and pick himself.

what i did over the holidays by London Welsh aged 5 2/3

How I lost my phone and why you never lose your phone just before xmas if you live in Abertysswg...

Thursday 21st December - 6pm Away we go, ho, ho. Works xmas party in some swanky bar, full of wanky bankers. Never mind, the food was free as was, more importantly, the copious amounts of Guinness that I fuelled myself with. When it's free, we drink more quickly. When we drink with people we don't usually drink with, we also drink more quickly - maybe to prove that "I'm a reeel man, and youse is just a fuckin poof. Now drink tha drop up now today now". I was meeting The Aggressor and The Cock at 9pm.

By 9pm I was a little tainted. These two, top form drinkers in thier time, were fresh and thirsty. The Cock did have a roll-neck on I remember and me and The Aggressor went for him about it early doors. He bit, so we then ripped into his Phillipiono/Sri Lankan/etc 22 year old missus. Unsurprisingly he bit again! Tiger Tiger, Leicester Square. Nice birds, nice price on the beer. Remember dancing with lush birds, pulling one - got her number. Great, loads of fingering after xmas with a lawyer. Low maintenance (she'd be working all the time). Result. Left at 2am (I'm supposed to be opening my gym out in essex at 6am by the way).

Then it happened. Bit of horseplay as we walked down the street led to The Cock tripping me with a Russian Leg Sweep and The Aggressor living true to his name as he landed a devastating Elbow Drop (it may as well have been 'off the top ropes' with his weight). I Hulked Up and hit a spear. It wasn't exactly WWF, more like Women in Love. Then we went for the bus. At some point during this Gayness I dropped my mobile. Some darky is probably still looking through my dirty photos and photos of Wales v Eng 2005.

Friday 22 - 8.15am WOKE UP. AAAH. HEAD HURT. FUCK, DIDNT OPEN GYM. PEOPLE DOING PRESS UPS IN CAR PARK????!!!!! BETTER PHONE WORK. FUCK MY PHONE. WHERE? SHIT I LOST IT. Oh well, i'll just go back to sleep cos i'm already in shit, best not be in shit with a hangover. Friday 22nd - 4pm Chris Rea is on the Radio and I am indeed "Driving Home for Xmas" Friday 22nd - 10.30pm Been home for two hours and I am climbing the fucking walls. No texts, no numbers to call. I know by this point there is fingering aplenty in Kiwis and I need to be there. But i'm not, i'm watching Jonathan Ross.

Sat 23rd - Wed 27th Dec. Much of a muchness from above. There's only so much you can do in a small Welsh inbred village such as Abertysswg where, because you didn't stay within a one-mile radius of the Rugby Club for the rest of your life, you are an outsider and are shunned even by people you used to call your best mates. Orange needed a Lost Property number which, because the Police Station is only open on a Wednesday between one and five-past one (maybe i'm exaggerating), I couldnt get until that period.

Thu 28th Report Phone Fri 29th (one WEEK later) Get phone. Take ages to register. Still have no numbers except the ones emailed to me. I did find myself texting myself "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy" one line after another at one point.

Sat 30th Go back to London after the most unsuccessful Xmas in history. Limited drinking and no fingering. Not a sausage, literally. LEARN FROM MY MISTAKE - NEVER LOSE YOUR PHONE IF YOU PLAN TO SPEND EXTENDED PERIODS IN HIRWAUN, RHYADER, NEWCASTLE EMLYN OR BETTWS-Y-COED. BUT ESPECIALLY IN ABER-FUCKING-TYSSWG. ESPECIALLY OVER XMAS.

Thank you, London Welsh c/o St Cadocs Mental Institute, Caerleon, Newport.