Well, it's clear Ferg has been consuming too much Berroca recently.
In the spirit of a good rant - even though I text Ferg this week (and he actually text back - this as you know is a fucking miracle and I refer to my statement made earlier of his new diet of Berroca), he didn't ask for my prediction. This is because
A) he couldn't give a fuck.
B) he thinks I know fuck all about rugby.
C) Both. I'm going to give it anyway - what I can't do in words I'll beat Ferg in pictures.
We've had Shrove Tuesday, Ash Wednesday, and now it will be Paddy Saturday. As we've all experienced - a large percentage of the Welsh will claim Irish heritage (which is only surpassed by the Americans).
Doc Brown's Flux capacitor will be in full use, as Cardiff will be swept back to 1985, which shouldn't take too long. Chavs and Chavettes will invade the city in shiny tracksuits that should have been banned in the 1980's due to fire hazards, along with more bling than a P Diddy video. J.R. Hartley will also get over excited and father a child to be called Day V Lately. And, as the Vauxhall Novas parade through Queen Street, the Terradactyl like birds will drop in to Chippy lane, stealing every fuckers chips.
In the spirit of a good rant - even though I text Ferg this week (and he actually text back - this as you know is a fucking miracle and I refer to my statement made earlier of his new diet of Berroca), he didn't ask for my prediction. This is because
A) he couldn't give a fuck.
B) he thinks I know fuck all about rugby.
C) Both. I'm going to give it anyway - what I can't do in words I'll beat Ferg in pictures.
We've had Shrove Tuesday, Ash Wednesday, and now it will be Paddy Saturday. As we've all experienced - a large percentage of the Welsh will claim Irish heritage (which is only surpassed by the Americans).
Doc Brown's Flux capacitor will be in full use, as Cardiff will be swept back to 1985, which shouldn't take too long. Chavs and Chavettes will invade the city in shiny tracksuits that should have been banned in the 1980's due to fire hazards, along with more bling than a P Diddy video. J.R. Hartley will also get over excited and father a child to be called Day V Lately. And, as the Vauxhall Novas parade through Queen Street, the Terradactyl like birds will drop in to Chippy lane, stealing every fuckers chips.
Above: After being scared by the flashing lights on the quiz machine in a bar in Cardiff this commando returns to his native valleys to beat people up and do cheap whizz
Celtic bollocks will be heard for miles - as stupid feckers with names like Donny Donald O'Donnell, Ally O'Malley and Phil McCracken drink with the Chavs and Chavettes of the Valleys and probably find that they are related.
I'm unsure on how many packs of Top Trump Ferg has swallowed, but I think he should now work for William Hill because even though his dream time is shit, his predictions are always spot on.
As for the results -
Wales should make sure Mike Phillips attends his Doctor appointment (pictured) - if he used that bitchy take the world on bollocks and actually aimed it in a controlled way, i.e. O'Gara's legs, then we will win. If he doesn't, we'll lose by the usual O'Gara drop goal.
Above: This blog believes that Mike should take this advice but won't tell him to his face because he'll kick off and fight us
England by 15 / 3 Swallow dives - With three generations of Batman, and a Robin on the bench, they'll bend Scotland, and I'm looking forward to Andy Robinson knock himself out before half time / put on a Scotland shirt and be playing in the second half.
France by 2 packs of Marlboro lights, one clove of garlic, a baguette and crème fraiche on gas mark 3 for 20 mins = 12 points - I think the garlic munching, stripy jumper wearing frogs will turn up, fag's in hand, baguettes in baskets, and proceed to use both on the Italians, in any which way they fancy.
Above: After getting 'Big Will's guide to fitness and rugby' (translated from the Gwent) for Christmas, Monsieur Froggy le cachypot looks forward to his next game
No comments:
Post a Comment