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.