fucking weird....

Above: Italians after the match - get in the pub you silly cunts

What a game, what a finish and what a knob Leivre-mental is!! While we have been all dissing the spaghetti eaters, with a little turn in fortunes this tournament, Italy could have been going into this week as championship contenders. Not bad when they have only 38 people to pick from and 32 of them are Argentinean.

The game was good, the result historical. For once it wasn’t all on Parrisses and burgermasters shoulders but others such as Masi, Lo Cicero and Zanni stepped up to the plate and delivered. The French on the other hand did not. Like the Irish a few hours later, the French delivered all the zip but could not get the result. It was ironic that during the match the Italian scrum suffered whilst their backs attacked from deep – fucking weird.

If any of the home nations pulled off a great a win as this the supporters would go on the mother of all benders and the pubs would be drunk dry – It Italy they all get their flags and get in their cars or on their scooters and drive around the city centre tooting their horns and cheering – knobs – what a fucking waste of a win.

It reminds me of what legend (inside of Wales, unheard of outside) Max Boyce said about England having an open top bus after winning the World cup. If Wales would have won it, each player would have had their own open top bus and Shane Williams’ mothers hairdresser would have been given the OBE.


In the Irish paper the Independent one hack called the French team one of the worst in recent history, I’m not sure if I agree. Chabal is a one trick elephant and that winger Hugot looks like he needs a bloody good wash but they still have a back row who are world class. They need a side that is settled that knows the plan. Parra isn’t shit and while he hasn’t reached the heights of a Castagneide or Camberabero he is a class player. The French pack destroyed the world class Italian pack yesterday. Its not over for the French, not be a long chalk but will it be for their coach?

Above: I don't give a flying fuck if the Wales/Ireland game is on i player - dont make me watch it again says Quentin the youngest of the Underwoods

The Wales Ireland match was also fucking weird. Some people thought it was extremely exciting and yes it was but only in the last minute where Paddy Wallace decided to butcher a try because he wanted to score closer to the posts. I would have scored the easy try and then put all the pressure of Sexton thus remaining the hero and using that to pull birds in Cardiff that night. Surely score first. It makes as much sense as the time this bloke tried to tell me that eyes were not balls but in fact the front of tubes to the back of the head. Because I didn’t have a book on eyes on me, he therefore claimed my arguments to be spurious at best…the thick fat fuck.

Back to the game. I thought it was like watching two teams of special needs kids playing British bulldog with oven gloves on. In the first half it looked like Wales were going to be blown away and every time the ball went out to the backs they lacked ideas. Lee Byrne, who resembled one of those cows that had ‘mad cow disease’ must remember to leave his Nans slippers at home and wear boots. Even though they won any supporter of Wales has to be worried about the execution, flair and vision of this Welsh team. Would they have beaten their world cup opponents this autumn, Samoa or Fiji playing like that? – I don’t think so.

The Irish have some sort of grievance that Mikey Phillips try was not disallowed but it wasn’t so suck it up you moaning pikeys. I suspect that if O Gara had have stayed on he might have made a difference even though his kicking, like Sextons, was akin to the kicking of that one legged mental twat that recently divorced Paul McCartney.

What I am surprised by is how Wales played so negatively and won. Hook was boringly amazing and controlled the game well. It was also the first time I have watched an entire game involving Mike Phillips where I haven’t seen the lip synching of ‘fuck off’ in.

Its incredible that by the final whistle my feeling was of some sort of grubby relief. It was like I’d been on the end of a gang raping by King of the Gays and Dev - It wasn’t enjoyable one bit, the levels of skill on show were substandard and I was glad it was over. Contrast this to the feelings of elation I am sure many of us rugby fans felt at the end of the first game of the weekend and again comes that feeling of ‘fucking weird’.

Now welcome to fucking weird part 3. Everybody said that this could be the Scots day if they were on top of every part of their game but I think we all believed that they were to be bum raped by the English. They weren’t. They were beaten by a better side and one that kneaded out a win. It was a game for the purest but as a neutral was one I enjoyed. Stand outs – hmmm not too sure but Max Evans’ try was a peach and to continue the fruit analogy Hape was a plum. Actually Ed Milliband lookalike had a lot more of the ball but seems a little one dimensional. Care and Wilkinson looked good when they came on but the Scottish replacements didn’t add much.

I think if there was such a thing as an Andy Robinson Cam then the BBC would get a lot more people watching the game. Introduce this then and stop putting internationals on a Friday and Sunday you set of twats.

Above: 'forward pass! FORWARD FUCKING PASS'! Andy Robinson finally loses it in HQ

So what the hell do we get from this weekend. Not one team played well this weekend, it was mistakes ago-go from start to finish. The teams that excelled are meeting up next week to fight for the wooden spoon while the team marching towards a Grand slam doesn’t seem worthy of the mantle. The only team able to steal the title from them is even more shambolic. However amongst the gloom there was light, individual performance and more than anything, close, hard fought competitions that make the 6 nations what it is and with the fight back of the Scottish and win by the Italians more of a competition than its ever been.

Fucking weird - Roll on Super Saturday!

My predictions from Big Doug - our Viking warleader

Above: Yes Doug you can get arrested for that sort of shit over here

Predictions are as follows:

French wine beats Italian wine by a cunt hair, but Italian food surpasses French cuisine by the narrowest of pubic follicles

The French by 15 points on the pitch

The Welsh by 3 points at home simply because O’Gara will have his leg broken by a deranged Welsh supporter between the Team Bus and the changing rooms and no one will noticed until he limps onto the pitch at the 70 minute mark to replace young Sexton with the Irish trailing by three and a line out at the Welsh 22, and misses the drop goal attempt with his off foot so badly, that he completely misses the ball, collapses to the ground, and is stretchered off with a bad case of acute embarrassment.

England by 20 points in Twickers – this will be an ugly match, the only compelling reason to watch it is to see if the English can stay motivated enough about the Calcutta Cup to generate a lopsided score line. The Scot’s can be tuff in defense, but have little offense (see Murrayfield, 12 Feb. 2011, scoring 3 points while playing with a 2 man advantage). However, all will not come up roses for the English. I can see it now, Ashton will drop one ball in mid air thus fulfilling martin’s nightmarish dreams, and will also miscalculate his spacing on another scoring attempt and crash into the post in midair thus dislodging the post and his shoulder from its socket and touching down for the try simultaneously, thus hitting the trifecta which the drunken Scotsman with his kilt lost and a bottle firmly within his grasp in the upper stands had gotten odds of 3000 to 1 on a 20 pound bet, all of which would have been magic until in his drunken celebration he careens off the 3 staid Englishman in the seats around him and hurtles to the lower stands all the while Singing Scotland the Brave without spilling a drop. Film on BBC 2 at 11 PM.

rants and predictions by The Unibrow

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.

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

I am a benevolent leader and today I offer you democracy - only today mind, tomorrow youre back in the fucking box!

Above: Michael Jackson - shamone mother fucker!!!!

Now I like to run the chickens like a slightly more stricter but less bonkers Colonel Gadaffi but the last thing I want is you guys protesting for more democracy outside my front door, throwing things and setting fire to my picture. I also don’t want to waste money strafing you from the air or getting my secret police to come and kick fuck out of you so in the spirit of openness I have decided to ask a few Chickens what their predictions are for this week.

Above: Fat Mike droning on about some small valleys club beating some other small valleys club and talking about the second row as if we've all heard of him

First up is Jamie Oliver lookalike and Division 5 east aficionado, Fat Mike. A man of Gwent currently living in Taffs Well near Cardiff which used to have a Mongolian restaurant – I am not joking. This is the man for who ‘I will be definitely be there’ actually means ‘I have no intention of coming but cant think of an excuse right now’ .

His predictions are:
Wales by 8
England by 5
France by 25

Second up is Phil Umbongo who lives many of our dreams by owning a pasty and pie factory in Devon. Phil used to wear NHS specs when they were uncool but waited long enough for them to get cool again. He has now spoiled that by keeping them on into what will be their longest and uncoolest period.

Above: Not special needs at all but pastry and filling supremo Phil Umbongo at the age of 35, pubes arrive a year later

Phils response to the predication question shows erudition and deep thought much more than Fat Mikes above. This is what I was looking for!!

'Hmmm now I'm on the spot...

England should tank the Sweaties by 20 at least but the Jocks always play better against us for some reason. Like you said in your blog 'we don't mind losing as long as it's not to England' not a mindset I would want to be in but still. If Dan Parks plays out of his skin then it may be closer.

Wales Ireland will be much closer than people think in my view and will probably be 3 points in it either way.

France Italy. France should run riot but it depends which team turns up. Italy have been unlucky to lose to Wales and Ireland and maybe they will provide an upset. Back in the real world France should win by 30'.

And finally we have a prediction from our chairman Rob ‘camel eyelashes’ Jones who lives in Charleston. Not the steak house in Cardiff that doesn’t close and has saw dust on the floor but the place on the east of the United States. He is from Ammanford but has been over there for many years – so much so is accent has turned ‘Catherine Zeta jonesesque’ without him turning into a knob.

Above: Mr Chairman? can i be Mr Weights and Measures?

Jones is making a rare appearance over this side next week for a visit to Toulouse and gives this assessment for the upcoming rugby fest.

France by 30 points
Wales by 6 points
England by 20 points

Next week I will be selecting another three but next time I want some analysis like umbongo did.

I asked Morgan about his prediction and he said ‘rain’.

Laters

fuck Edinburgh - lets do Brazil

Rugby is on its way to Brazil and all i can say is hip hip hoorah. The Brazilians are making promotional videos about certain sports that Brazilians dont give a fuck about but are coming to the olympics in 2016. below is the rugby one and worth a watch




To be honest other than kiss ball and naked volleyball they dont give a fuck about most sports. its going to be so much nicer watching the crowd shots when they play rugby......

Below: Welsh rugby fan after Merthyr v Pontypridd in the cup. lets hope she's not doing that to lose weight or she'll be there til xmas

Below: Her Brazilian equivalent - but will she look that nice with orange curry on her top?

i say chaps - here come the English

Above: a typical Englishman

English people are really posh, who live in mansions and have Welsh and Scottish servants. They have Irish ones too but because their not paid they are called slaves. They all talk funny and drive range rovers. They went to school in a place like Hogwarts where they bullied each other with their willies. They also wear Barbour jackets, flat caps and wellies but not cheap black ones. They are all bi-sexual but are actually scared of sex unless it’s with cats and they cant drink or fight.

Well as you can guess that’s not true, everyone knows that they are also scared of having sex with cats.

Above: Twickenham car park on international day. you cant see but behind them are Morris dancers and pearly kings and queens

Ahh the neighbours, the sais, the Sassenach, the auld enemy, les rosbifs, the poms. I know many of you will disagree but I don’t give a fuck, its good to see them swagger again. The 6 nations would be shit without them and even when they are crap they are never that crap or never that crap for long. Now it sounds like I am sitting in the coop on my knees with todger in hand and in front of me laid out on the centre pages are pictures of Will bumchin Carling, Brian Moore and Ben Fogle but I am only saying what’s obviously true.

I have said this before and I will say it again. I would rather spend my time in the company of an English rugby supporter for 5 hours than 2 minutes with a Welsh soccer supporter. Still there’s no reason to get over emotional they’re still massive cocky bummers who love themselves. They have been consistently the best side in this 6 nations and if that performance was repeated over the next few weeks they would be worthy grand slam winners. They have some fantastic players. The back 3 are on fire and with the case of Ashton, I wish he were. Flood has been fantastic and who wouldn’t want Wilkinson on the bench. One of the best players of the past 12 years and although as boring as one of Fat Mikes chats on division 5 east rugby, someone to depend on. One spot of worry is the centres and I am sure most English people would agree that I wouldn’t pick shontayne hape for 3 reasons.

1. He has a completely ridiculous name
2. looks like Labour leader Ed Milliband
3. probably plays like him

The English pack are also going great guns but I cant get it into my head to rate Easter (the player not the holiday which is fucking ace because of chocolate button eggs). Dylan Hartley has a face that even his mother would want to punch but he is a dynamic player, even better when opposition coaches goad him. England also have a lot of good flankers to chose from and the 2nd row Palmer has been great.

Everybody wants the English to get beat but who wants to beat a bunch of losers. We now have the English players who are in their pomp, who can play their game and can talk the talk and walk the walk. I always felt sorry for heffalump Martin Corry shuffling off the pitch after a loss and I don’t want to feel sorry for them. I want to see players like Foden, Ashton and Hartley gobbing off! I love the rivalry that we have in rugby, the one where we take the piss out of each other and let our drinking, my looks and the banter do the talking. And what’s better for us watching gobshites coming off the field after a loss!!

Above: look at that set of twats - The English team pose for the press before bumming fuck out of each other

So what’s in store from the boys from HQ. They have played well and as I have said they have the individuals but unlike Wales they play like a team and look like they are enjoying themselves. They have got a lot more to them but if this is a Grand slam team then there is a chance that the demons that come with it aren’t far behind.
Better English teams than this have lost to a Celtic country on the last days of the 5/6 nations. Its happened before and it can happen again – the English should win but the question is can they handle the pressure.

PPS I have forgotten about a sub-tribe of English people called ‘northerners’ they are in fact English but don’t speak the language. They live in their own excrement fighting with and stealing off each other. They all claim they live in the best place in the world and spend the rest of their lives trying to leave it or they stay and make it even more of a shit hole. By law the females of the tribe must be pregnant by 15 and have to smoke during their pregnancy. These aren’t my words but the exact words from the Conservative Party manifesto for anywhere outside the centre of London

For fucks sake - what did i just say!!

latest headline from BBC News

'irish foul play a worry' - Gatland

dont worry about the Irish just coach (as in what your paid to do)

1. Welsh hookers to be able to throw to their jumpers
2. The fucking jumpers to jump
3. Mike Phillips not to take a three mile wind up before passing
4. any of the players not to lash out like a pissed up Taz at the end of the night and get a yellow card

also The Rooster wouldnt mind the end of Rob Howley talking about himself in the third person (see what i did there)...

Zut alors - Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.

Below: A typical Frenchman: 'Je Suis un smelly lazy radical homm avec le bad breathe'

OK you’re the manager of a national team and you have played 2 games against reasonable opponents. The first team came at you with everything they had and still you played flowing rugby and won, the second team you played away from home, they outscored you something like 3 tries to one but you still dug deep and won. The next game is the big one – talked about as the championship decider against a team on the up and at their home, their fortress. So what do you do? Oh of course, you change a third of your team and completely change your tactics.

Ahh the French, a certain je ne sais quoi that you can’t put your finger on, a joie de vivre and a Gallic shrug all combined to create a frustratingly rude, bad breathed European. I will say that their roads are better than Italy’s but then again so are Libya’s and Afghanistan’s. It’s said every 6 nations that you don’t know which French team will turn up but they are right. Are they the XV that took New Zealand apart in the 1999 World cup or are they the team that were pretty much humiliated by an Australian team who couldn’t out scrummage Rod, Jane and Freddy from Rainbow.

As you all know the peoples who inhabit the British Isles are loathe to complain too much. Not the French. If a Frenchman is giving a breakfast he neither agrees with or likes the next thing he does is takes it down to his nearest port where he will burn it and then he will march through Paris waving banners and singing songs against crap breakfasts. The French Government will then change its entire policy on breakfasts (unless you are an ethnic and then they will open fire and/or bend you).

Below: A Frenchman with shit red trousers burning xmas gifts he didnt like at a port

Leivremont could have one of the best teams in the world if only he didn’t act like some Alzheimer’s riddled geriatric after being hit over the head. He has selected absolutely loads of players which in my mind cheapens the international cap. It’s not as if they haven’t got an ‘A’ side where he can’t try these combinations. There aren’t many players in France that haven’t been capped by Leivre-mental but sure as eggs is oeufes (geddit) France will pull out a fantastic game out of the bag in the world cup.

So what’s going to happen in the next few weeks? If one France turns up. They will arrive in Italy not take it seriously and then make loads of mistakes as they nonchalantly give the ball away. Italy will be at home increasing their powers tenfold and will sneak a win, against Wales they will concede an early try where the fickle Parisian public will start booing in the first 5 minutes. The French will start punching the Welsh team then each other and Gallic shrugging will go up to factor 8. They will still score 4 tries against a hapless Welsh side but Wales will score more.

Alternatively this side could turn up. Italy are brushed aside through brutal first class forward play and then superb cutting rugby – they are tuned. Against Wales, they start at such fervour that Wales cannot get into the game and are blown away……

So they could win or lose or a bit of both – you heard it here first.

A couple of pricks wrecking the game (No, not Hook and Byrne…) by Uni-brow

Above: Get a fucking hair cut Al!

As we are now well aware – Ferg has too much time on his hands, and rather than doing what he’s supposed to (Uni work – things don’t change), he’s blogging like he’s never blogged before. Three blogs in four days, - maybe he did actually blog more than that, he just didn’t want the world to know about it.

I too could be spending my time a little more productive. I could try and tame the forests that weigh down my brow – the joke like mono that makes me look like a cross between a grumpy, fat James Nesbitt with Bert and Ernie. Yet, I thought bollocks to it – I spend a few hours a day on a train with stinking, toothless, hairy tattooed people (and that’s just the women), so I thought I’d vent some anger at a couple of pricks that a destroying Rugby for me, and try to ease some strain on my furrowed brow.

Time, my friends, is a fickle thing. One moment we are running down the pitch, the next we may worry that if we fart it could follow through. From spending money each week on hair styling products, to now investing in the latest technology in hair thickener or weigh up the option plugs and surgery. A “quick pint” of yesteryear that lasted three days, now really is a quick pint now that we may struggle to finish.

As we get older, the laws of the game we love are gradually changing too. Days are gone when you had to catch the ball while sticking your arse out like you’re appearing on Strictly Come Dancing, stamp a heel on the floor while simultaneously shouting, “Mark”. Guidance on the ELV’s on rucks, mauls and lineout’s have kept several branches of the Citizens Advice Bureau in South Wales venues open (so, butt, Ida can’m hit’m when lineout jumper hits em grounds?), and when some of the older members of the coup were in their prime (Andy Nunn)– tries were 3 points.

Even though a student of the blind school could tell you who, how and why a front row is going down quicker than Gaddafi’s popularity, ref’s still haven’t got a clue. I also find it worrying that referee Wayne Barnes seems to welcome scrum time, just so he can take a fucking eternity with “Crouch, touch, pause…” and the “engage” part sounds like he may have done himself a mischief in his shorts.

We see sporting stars develop, hit the headlines, and retire. Or, they shag celebrities and retire (not Chez), shag celebrities and emigrate (Chez), shag celebrities move to another club because “oh, well, the boys and the banter – I don’t think my orangeness could cope with it”(possibly Chez again).


These days, more technology and analysis goes into rugby than Bush and Blair put in to trying to find weapons of mass destruction. Charles Darwin’s’ possible missing proof of Evolution is Andy Powell – a man from the past, George of the Jungle on steroids crossed with Master Blaster from Mad Max 3 - after swinging from trees, humping bollards and shitting in caves he borrowed a modern day cart because, as he put it, “me dum hungry”.

Below: Wanted - One nasty old dwarf to sit on Andy Powells shoulders in order to help him think

Worse than all of this, is the retired sports star becoming the commentator. Don’t get me wrong, some players have the thought and brain power to think “well, I can’t chase eggs forever, what will I do when it all finishes?” League players have converted to coaching in Union, some sign contracts for Sky or BBC – which finally brings me to the point of this rant. Statler and Waldorf (pictured) have had their personality removed (exactly) and taken human form while “commentating” rugby. Ladies, Gentlemen and Love Chickens - please give a two finger salute to – Eddie Butler and Brian Moore.

Many Love Chickens have probably spent more time playing against international stars than Butler did – so what the fuck does he know? He played in the early 80’s – but, didn’t everyone play for Wales in the early 80’s?

They were hardly the cream of the crop in the 80’s were they? – you piss the Red side of the Severn Bridge and you’re handed your first cap. I’m sure for one international, the blokes selling dodgy merchandise outside Cardiff Central – “one peeeound ya hat’s, ya scarves, ya badgieeees” – actually included a Welsh Cap for £5.

Butler has worked for The Guardian newspaper since the early 90’s, and writes like Taz on a good day. And although at least he has time to get someone to check and re-write his copy, no one can alter or advise the tripe that comes out of his gob when he talks – you can get more sense out of Big Will after 20 pints and a kebab. The one that really sticks to mind is Wales v England, 1999. Our “home” game at Wembley – because we beat them by a couple of points, Graham Henry was declared a God, and every player was given permission to shag every any female in Wales they wished. I’m unsure if Gareth Thomas accepted that or he had a clause in his contract – Shane Howarth was unable to fulfill that either as he wasn’t Welsh.

Now I’m sure you all had copious amounts of alcohol before, during, and after that game – thankfully the most interesting parts can be viewed on Youtube so we can say “yeah, of course I remember it”. Despite Tim Rodber’s “tackle” shattering Colin Charvis’ cheekbone, blind Butler had the stupidity of saying it was a “bad decision” by the ref?

“When you go in for a tackle like that…” but it wasn’t a tackle Butler.

“Ah well it’s a dangerous game…bad decision ref, bad decision.” Butler really should the Golden Kick in the Bollocks award (if there is one?). Also among his irritating lines…

“That’s the power of…”

“That’s the speed of…

“And there is the strength of…”

Those comments wreck the highlights of Wales’ last Grand Slam – along with every other syllable that comes out of his mouth.

Which brings me on to his partner in crime, Brian Moore.
Brian Moore – with an irritating face, only surpassed by that constantly-smiling Prof Brian Cox (are you an arse bandit pop star, or are you a star-gazing arse bandit. Make your mind up – Cox). Brian Moore’s big (arrogant, ignorant, prick facing, blind fuckin’) mouth challenge – can they just gag the useless prick? His mindless ranting style of commentary might as well be replaced by Richard Keys saying “Smash it”, “Would you smash it”, “Have you smashed it” or “(insert players name here) is hanging out the back of it” every so often. It’d be more entertaining and probably more accurate.

If those pricks are destroying this weekend’s match (that’s before Wales get on to the pitch, play for 10 minutes, for Ronan Prick Face O’Whatsit slots yet another drop goal to win), I’ll be watching it on mute, getting pissed, and watching the highlights on YouTube again.

Uni-brow

Gatland more annoying than Ski??

Above: Rugby supporters from North Wales 'Fuck faster broadband what the hell's a wheel'?

The Welsh team have dug in, looked hard at themselves and their team, concentrated and worked to their utmost ability to produce some of the most debilitating moments of dull, grey mediocrity in the last few weeks.
I do not give a flying fuck if you think I am biased by saying that we have some amazing individuals in the Welsh squad but as a team we are as much use as Big Will at a posh meal. It doesn’t help that every time we play someone Gatland attacks them a week before singling out people to make sure they up their game against us.

Press conference

Press – So Warren, its Ireland out next, some great players and you’ve had some hard games against them – what are your feelings on the next match

Any other International coach – Well Ireland are a first class side and we are going to have to up our game. It does not mean we fear them, we think we have the players to win but it does mean we respect them and what they can do as individuals and as a team

Gatland – those Pikey fuckers haven’t a hope. They are shit and we are fucking ace. If I was to single out anybody for being shit it would be Brian O Driscoll, he’s not going to play well because like I said he is completely shit. I would also like to single out Ronan O Gara for being crap at drop goals – there is no way in the world he could score more than 3 in a game and if he cant then he is a cock. The pack are fat and never win lineouts or scrums, where they actually cheat while the backs are a punch of fat slow puffs who will never win………..

Above: Swansea girls dressed up to the nines on a night out during the recent cold snap

Anyhoo back to the team. I thought they played ok against England where the best team won….sigh. Ironically we played worse against Scotland and tumfed them and again we saw Wales do what they always do. If they go more than 15 points ahead they start thinking of what time they are out clubbing or in this modern era, eating chicken and rice. If England or the All Blacks had had that dominance in a rugby match they would have won 64-6 not 24-6. As for Italy well we did well to win against a good Italian team. I still think we were village though.

Positives have been Ryan Jones who has been playing well and I thought Jonathan Davies has been a find. Shane Williams is A-flipping-mazing, I don’t think I have to add more on that wizard, I’d probably finger him if I met him.
Mike Phillips has been a worry, I’ve seen Fuzzy demolish a lasagne faster than he can pass the ball from the back of the scrum. He is also very angry all the time and probably needs a damn good wank.

We have Ireland and France for the last 2 games and the problem is that you don’t know what you’re going to get. Yes Wales could beat Ireland at home and have a good record in Paris but if they continue in the same vein they will get a bumming only Lloydy or Ches with their enormous willies could muster……………………

Crouch, touch, pause……tarmac my drive!

Above: An Irishman wanting to fight you for a pound after stealing the lead from your roof

Small of hands but big of heads – one of the most ancient and surely the most arrogant of teams in the 6 nations.

Who could blame them? They were 3 points off a triple crown last year, grand slam winners the year before, 2 of the regions have won 2 of the last 3 European cups, they have world class greats like Brian o Driscoll (below) and Paul o Connell.

Well bollocks to them.

I’d give my signed picture of Pete Devs willy stuck in that blood orange for a chance to punch Ronan O Gara in the face. He plays well for Munster and scores at will for Ireland against Wales but as soon as he plays for a team I could support i.e The Lions he plays like a cock or worse; Dan Parks on an off day.

For many of us drinkers (I don’t mean coke zero so that’s you out Roberts) and tourists (in the proper sense of the word) Ireland is one of the best places to go. We have all had great times in Kilkenny, limerick and Galway where Morgan pushed that girl over. Dublin, however is one of the worst. It takes itself so seriously it should become a black and white French language drama on BBC4. It is over rated and to be quite honest shit. A den of dullness dressed in pretend craic populated with Murphy O syphilis bars charging £400 for a pint of Guinness and £350 for a ‘traditional Irish’ (see English but without the beans which makes it shit) breakfast. We were there once on International day and couldn’t get into a club because they didn’t let gangs of boys in. it’s a rugby international day you thick twats not a fucking Justin Bieber concert! It so crap that when we were in Scotland a few weeks ago loads of French groups went to Edinburgh rather than to the Irish theme parked ripoffathon that is Dublin and their team were playing there!

Above: The youthful Irish team preparing to take on Scotland a fornight ago

Anyway back to the rugby. This is a team full of great players even though it has an average age of 103 but also village ones who the Irish love such as ‘Big’ Johnny Hayes who should be called ‘shit’ Johnny Hayes. They did not deserve to beat the Italians but ironically should have done the French. They have the ability to come good at the end of this tournament but will they deserve it? They have England at home which may be a grand slam decider for the visitors. However if the Irish beat Wales, which they may well do seeing that they have no fear of playing and winning away against them, then this could be the 6 nations decider.

Och aye the NO!!!!

God, supporting Scotland must be harder than supporting Wales. These pale, porridge snorting, skirt wearers of the frozen north boast probably the best place to watch rugby in the world (Edinburgh pubs not Murrayfield) and a vast beautiful country but unfortunately its populated with obnoxious football supporters who like all other one-eyed football supporters are complete unashamed knobbers. Of course their rugby fans are amongst the best and the loyalist and by-fuck they need to be.











Above - They'll rip your fuckin heed aff!! Could these two freaks be the answer to Scotlands 9 and 10 problems

They promise so much, especially after their win against South Africa and a barn storming match against the French and then served up more crap then would appear in a book called ‘my sporting life by Ski Barr’ against Wales. They were dreadful. They could not have been any worse if they had selected the Krankies as half backs.

Actually watching Scotland in the last 2 games of the championship has been akin to laying my splayed hand on an anvil and then smacking fuck out if it with a hammer.

A hell of an improvement against Ireland but they still couldn’t win and that was at home. They just need some stability in positions and for their players to give a 90-100% performance every time they go on the field which they do not do now. Every time Dan Parks has a good game I would give him….i don’t know……a box of Roses and a cheap bottle of Cava but every time he had a bad one I would give him such a fucking sidekick into his nads which may level out his ‘playing like a cock’. As I have said they may have some worries against Italy but they really should put them away and although they are a class below the English, they may have a performance left in them. Remember the last time Scotland beat England in HQ I was 10 and Andy Nunn was 53. Can they do it? Andy Robinson deserves something!

Mamma mia issa the Italians

Above: Along side the Mario Brothers Probably the most famous Italian in history

We are over half way through the 6 nations so I bet all you giant gay lords are thinking -

‘I know what I think but that’s unimportant and probably dross, I wonder what the Rooster thinks because he is better at this sort of thing and of course handsomer than me’

Well if you are thinking that then you are right on all counts, so I have decided to put finger to keyboard and give my thoughts on what’s happened so far and what could happen in the run up to Super Saturday.

above: Mussolini - cock but a very well dressed cock

Ok let’s start with Italy. We shouldn’t feel sorry for the Italians as who else would be allowed to live with their parents till they’re in their early 40’s, drive like fucking joeys and be completely sexist all the time, but I do. They have a class pack of forwards boasting legendary calibre players like Parisse and Castrogiovanni but as soon as the ball comes out from the scrum it goes into the hands of one of 7 retards running around like Morgan with his laces tied together. Until this is sorted they’ will never be. They could have easily beaten Wales and especially Ireland and I think they met an England side with their tails up. Can they beat France and Scotland and rescue their tournament? In a word, No. However this Italian side is better than the teams that have beaten Scotland in the past and who knows which French or Italian team will turn up in Rome a week Saturday.

Fantasy rugby titbit on Italy – for the past…..I don’t know…..3 years? I have been putting the Italian centre Canale in my side. He has been shit and so I have vowed to never put him near my side of low achieving drongos – lo and behold – he plays against Wales and scores. A long way to go before he become a big a cock as Ashton but he’s in my top 100.

How i learnt to love the English by The Rooster

I'm annoyed...thoroughly annoyed. On Saturday i sat there in a quiet pub in a quiet side street watching the England France game with fluffy haired, super mod Spenny. Now i was looking forward to watching France win whilst allowing myself some sweet caring anti English racism.

So you're guessing that i am annoyed because the English won?

well there is that but that isn't why i'm thoroughly annoyed - its because of Fantasy rugby.

usually watching uber-posh, stunning pop star shagging, twat face Ben foden crossing the line for anybody never mind England, brings me out in a rash and is so awful i pull out the small passport size photo of Ski Barr from my wallet and kiss it - yes - its that bad.

But on Saturday the little shit did so and i clenched my fist and said 'yessssss', even thinking about it now makes me want to punch myself in the face with my good fist but mini-celebrate i did.

Is it because, at last i realise we are all Brits together and that the English are infact better than us at everything and that i love them like the benevolent masters they are? Was i touched by the spirit of St George the patron saint of England, Palestine and stubbing your toes?

Was i fuck.....I'd put the gobby twat in my fantasy rugby team and the thought that i might be catching up with that gloating, red faced tit, Ski made me really happy.

Above: Selfish twat who is spoiling my fantasy rugby experience

I'm not doing very well at the moment, languishing in 10th out of a field of 17 and i will tell you why. fucking Chris Ashton who, other than last week can't play a game without scoring tries by flying, well that's what every photos looks like. So in the end i get to go back to my penchant for booing our closest neighbours because of Ashton......so things cant be all that bad can it??

SKI BARR I IS GUNNING FOR YOU AND I IS GOING TO WIN BECAUSE I IS A MAN AND YOU IS A PUFF

yipee kai ay its the autumn internationals

'Calm down Kite for fuck sake its only a game!!'

Above: Pip Chief Wiggam Kite can't wait for rugger!

yippee ki ay motherfuckers - yes i am as excited as a vest laden middleaged man who is about to blow up a a lot of Europeans. Yes I am more excited than Bruce Willis. Incidently the Germans had mullets so indeed, deserved to die.

Anyway the reason for the excitement is that summer is gone (what summer), the rugby season is well underway and now we come to the autumn internationals. As we can see from old Chief Wiggams face above many people pee their pants about the best teams in the southern hemisphere playing the home nations. Grief! these games are mouth watering but i have a problem. It seems a little churlish but i just think that playing the big 3 every year is taking the mystique and the specialness of playing the likes of the All Blacks. This arguement isn't rational and i put my hands up to it. I know we play the Six Nations every year and that doesnt take away anything from what is the best sports competition in history (Lovechickens v UWN will be but lets give it time) and i also know we in the northern hemisphere should be playing the south to stop being so in awe of them like the English did under Snakey...i mean Woodward, we cant just go on the pitch against the All blacks as plucky losers anymore and i understand this but what i am saying is i want these matches to be special.

Facking hell the first time i remember us playing New Zealand is in the 1987 World cup, getting bummed by them in 1988 and then when they came on the 1989 tour of Ireland and Wales. That tour was amazing and unforgetable - it made me fall in love with rugby even deeper than before, it actually made me want to play (well done twats). Anyway back to the gripe, the next time we played them was in 1995. So in 8 years we played them 5 times and that was twice in one series and 2 world cups - actually they toured us once in that time, recently we have played them over here year in and year out. What about Australia/England or Australia/Scotland - what the fuck is so unique about these games anymore - thats why people look forward to the Lions!!

Anyway i am sure rugby geek Richie Morris would disagree with me but we need to start seeing month tours, i want to see oz, saffers or kiwis play one or two countries and top regional sides in that country - thats incentive to do well in certain games - win the league, EDF or the European cup or shield and you get a money spinner of a match against a touring side - sorted.

So which are the matches we should be looking at. Wales are European champions so should we be seeing them wipe the southern hemisphere from the pitch - not flipping likely. i think we are moving forward in leaps and bounds, we can compete but can we step up to the mark on the big occasion. we failed in south Africa in the summer, some fantastic play but we couldnt cut the mustard and we payed - i think we have a chance against South Africa but it depends how we start against them. i think we will suffer against the kiwis but i think the australian match will be the big one for us. We would have built up some steam by then and dogged by some close results against the others, this will be seen as the one to pay back the fans and the management.

England will be intrigueing as we can see how much of an influence Martin Johnson has been in the few months he has been in charge. England have got the strength to compete and beat the best in the world but they havent clicked and will they. They seemed to have stopped the Volcano experiment, which is good - i wouldnt blame the player though - there is no point in picking a giant try machine on the wing if you are not going to use him even as a decoy player. bones of contention will be who will be at half backs, is new golden bollocks Cipriani ready to take on the world and will Danny Care be picked ahead of his competition especially now that Ellis is back.

Ireland have an average age of 63 and again we will hear - 'Its time for these core of players to dleiver and this is their season'. BOD looks like he is back to his best and the displays and results by Leinster and Munster must be heartening. i also think that Paul o Connel is fucking ace. Kearney the utility back is also a greattalent but i also think its ironic that someone called 'carny' plays for Ireland.

hmm Scotland, thet havent the domestic game or the strength in depth of the other nations but once in a while they produce the goods, Frank Hadden has yet to join the Guild of Alchemists and turn base metal into gold but they are starting to put in a structure that will stand them in good stead. They produce great scrum halves but they have the injury problems of porcelain Pete Farrel - who actually injures himself getting off the bus to the ground and has been known to sprain his ankle talking about the game. What Hadden needs to do is help the jockinese people fall back in love with the game.

anyway thats enough of my pearls of wisdom, i wouldnt mind hearing about other peoples views. all i do know is that we have a month of international rugby and if that doesnt make you spaff your pants i dont know what will.

My favourite moment by Alex Unibrow

above - Unibrowed dirty picture taker

Thinking back on my favourite Love Chickens moment isn’t an easy task. From the moment Ferg called me “Iestyn” (while holding a copy of Rugby World held next to my head, just in case anyone was unsure), I knew there was something a little bit special about him, and the bond he creates with people, which is the backbone of the Love Chickens.My resemblance of the Rugby League and Union player has long gone, along with my hair, being replaced by a more furrowed, one lined brow. One thing hasn’t changed, and that’s Ferg and the camaraderie he inspires within the LC’s. Casting my memory back of Uni and Love Chicken days, there have been lots of moments that spring to mind, most of which are making me laugh as I type this.

Bath Spa Sevens, 2002, I was able to achieve my best sports photographs, including – Big Will throwing up, Carlton scoring a try, and Taz, Earl and Ferg surrounding Little Rhys, while naked, with the Ref showing them the Red Card. Unforgettable.Over the years I’m sure several pubs in Cardiff have kept in business because of the pounds sterling LC’s have handed over the bar, and I’m sure quite a few barmaids have also heard us tell them that we love them.

Above: dirty boys

Reflecting on LC moments couldn’t be done without mentioning Kiwi’s at some point too, the place where you lose your inhibitions, your looks, your clothes, your mind and your money all in search of women that have everything a man could want – Tattoo’s, facial hair and hairy chests. Yet, a night out wouldn’t be complete without it – plus Morgs falling asleep with a cock drawn on his face.More recently were the trouncing of the UWN Rugby Team on the shittiest day of the year, a magical mystery tour on the bus (which was going to take us to Cardiff via Usk if we hadn’t stopped the driver) and watching Wales win the Grand Slam.

Other events that come to mind are having the responsibility of photographing an LC get married in the best Wedding I’ve ever been to (even though I was throwing up blood an hour before), watching Ferg tackle WRU Chairman David Pickering, “having a quiet one” on a Friday - and not returning home until Sunday, being hit in the eye with a chicken nugget, swing ball and tears, turning into Hitler, being refused entry to several Newport pubs before 7, and losing my phone and wallet. After thinking of these situations, and many others I haven’t put down, I’ve come to realise there isn’t one that I look back with fondness or affection.

It’s all of these memories, which I love. Moments which create the look that a fellow LC will give when you meet in the street, the craic when we have a chance for a pint or two, the ability to meet up and even though we haven’t seen each other for months – we talk and get on as if we’d never been apart, which makes me smile when I think back, and look forward to the stories we’ll have to tell in the future: it’s this that make us what we are today – proud to be a Love Chicken.

A Day to Remember by Fat Mike

It was an early morning on Saturday the 9th July 2005, in search of breakfasts and a few pints we headed to Y Mochyn Ddu to watch the third Lions test. To our disappointment it was shut, so a brisk walk to the Cayo Arms was the order. Due to too much cider and red wine the night before it hadn’t crossed my mind that Will was not in view, and I was oblivious to the following statements:

“Can Squirrels fly that far?”

“Is it warm?”

“Is it a grey or a red one”?

“How did you catch it”

“Did he climb a tree to get it”

“He should wash his hands after touching that!”

“He is sick!”

“Look at his mullet, he wants that cut”

“He wouldn’t do that if it was a Honey Badger”

Then it dawned on me;

“I wonder why that Squirrel is getting bigger”.

Then it nearly hit me!

M Stephens Early Morning Drinker 9th July 2005

The rooster returns and this time he is pretty much serious

The Rooster returns

Its been a year, actually more than that. The pub golf in Pontypool last year was so hard that its taken over 12 months for me to get my fat fingers back to the chickens blog. Neath was even worse but less said about that the better.

Since people realised that there was to be no more blog, Lovechickens HQ have been unindated with call begging us to restart and so I am honoured to present to you - Lovechickens - the return.
Since we have been off the air the biggest news other than the South Africans winning the world cup was that the Lovechickens RFC had played and won their first XV aside game. In the driving rain and with minging hangovers we destroyed the young whippersnappers of Newport Uni. Other than a disapointing injury to the gap toothed, marge simpson haired non Scouser and Pete Dev injecting his grubby fingers with oil - it was a great day even if the weather like it is now was shit.

Other news

Fergatron and Two fannies went off to France for the world cup where they met up with US Superchickens Big Doug, El Cubano and sleepy Geoff. The great news is Wales were shit and the boys had to watch former canabalistic giants Fiji take on the eventual humour by-passed winners - the spring boks - but more about supporters in another post. Oh how they laughed a week before in a busy pub of italians and jocks before their big game as Wales were made to look like girls throwing balls and realised they had to spend the entire week explaining that they were actually in france for the Fiji quarter finals and they were actually from a small village outside Suva called puncheston. Its doesn’t matter because Two fanny's hands are virtually black anyway with all that dirt.

I am not going to blow my load too early as i have lots of news to tell so wiwill give snippets over the week. but i will start off with some titbits (hahaha tits!!)

Marriage
I believe that there are plenty of cheaper ways of living your life in perpetual misery, among them buying a dapper new set of orange dungarees, becoming a muslim fanatic like Bruce and buying a one way ticket to Guantanomo Bay or alternatively applying for a job as Ski's underpants. Anyway despite all the evidence stating for most people getting married is gay both Big Jim and Sam have tied the knot. We have missed Big Jim recently although the ex-Newport Uni chickens have seen him a bit. Sam has been about, a lot….when he takes time away from his German empire.

hmmm Sam is a small and angry man and is in charge of a giant German force….how long before he annexes Austria and marches into the Sudetenland………oh yeah and he has honestly changed his surname to Lawson. Big Will has also changed his name from Matthew Williams to tobias arseface penispickler but that’s another blog.

where are you know and what are you doing - The rooster will be going around members to find out news and gossip where they are!!

more news later in the week

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!