Friday, March 26, 2010

Don't count your chickens, dipshits.

As a long suffering Parramatta Eels fan, I know all about the Curse of Brain Smith.

So I feel it's only fair to explain it to all the Chooks fans who are getting giddy and almost wetting themselves with premiership excitement after TWO ROUNDS.

Brain Smith appears to be a good coach.

He will improve your team by moulding it into a certain formula.

You will win many games.

You will get your hopes up.

And then the alien virus inside Brain will emerge and he will smash those hopes down down again just when they reach their pinnacle.

He will then follow this up by running players who are fan-favourites out of town year after year, and you will see these players return with other clubs to beat you until you resort to self-harm in a bid to counter the despair and frustration.

He will continually play stupid mind games (like never naming a starting side until about 25 seconds before kickoff) because he thinks it's clever. This has fooled Nick Politis already. Nobody else cares anymore.

And he will continue to keep picking a player like Matt "Sideshow Bob" Petersen OVER AND ABOVE JARRYD HAYNE.

Matt Petersen, displaying some of the electrifying skill and awareness that prompted Brain Smith to declare "With a lot of hard work and a miracle or two, Jarryd Hayne might become the new Matt Petersen, but Matt Petersen is the original real fucken deal. And he'll deliver the Eels a premiership for me no question.  Sorry I can't continue the interview I'm fucking CHOKING on something."

So if you thought it was bad finishing wooden-spooners last season you should consider the fact that at least that was seen coming a mile away and you didn't have to build up any hopes.

And you all realise that it's only a matter of time, don't you, before Turd Carney does it again?

You remember Turd - I told you all about him back here.

Just remember that the slimy little turd has done no rehab, no community service, no admission of guilt, no apologising - in short, NO CHANGING OF HIS WAYS.

In short, he's still a drunken tool with a fairy tattoo of stars just waiting to unleash his 'inner fuckwit'.

Turd Carney getting another local to sign up to sponsor him for his 2009 Drinkathon at 10 cents a UDL can. Turd eventually consumed 8,312 cans of bourbon and coke and donated the money raised to his local pub to show that he has "gone straight".

Sooner or later, Turd will see a head he just can't resist pissing on, or an arse he can't resist lighting on fire and pretty soon after that you'll be thinking Willie Mason was a fucken paragon.

Mark my words.

And if you doubt my soothsaying powers, let me remind you of this PRE-GLASSING gem from my 2008 NRL Sharks Preview "Special Fuckwit Watch": "...we all know it's only a matter of time before Greg "Knee, this is Head; Head, meet Knee" Bird does something f*ck-slappingly stupid."

You've been warned.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Bulldogs Announce New Club Award - The Ben Hannant Memorial Wimp of the Fucken Year Award

Ben Hannant, you fucken wimp, you piss me off.

At first it was just mid-level annoyance. Like a faint itch on my nuts during a work meeting when I'm unable to scratch it but am generally able to carry on trying to block it out. (And then get down for a scratchy-dig in the hallway as I leave, only to get busted by Sue the Walrus from Accounting, who seems to enjoy it...)

Being a Bulldog then elevated you to Chov's First Circle of Hate, up there with idiots who drive slow in the right lane, dipshits who take a trolley full of groceries into the express basket lane and Laurie Daley.

Then you got swine flu and I laughed, so that was alright. (See, I can be fair and balanced, just like Fox News).

Michael Ennis: "See, Ben, THIS is what's called the "Hoppa", named after Manly grub John Hopoate, where I take my thumb (or any digit, really) and I shove it right in your...HEY! Don't tense up, Benny! THIS is why we're called the "Family Club"!" Jamal Idriss: "Holy shit, that's up past the knuckle! He REALLY likes you Ben!"

Not satisfied with that, though, you decided to play the Fucking Wimp last year and totally send my rage-DNA into full apoplexy.

This was when you milked a fucken penalty against the Eels for a 'chicken-wing' tackle, crying like a bitch that your shoulder was 'dislocated'.

Chov was the only person on Earth who fucking well spotted you, just moments later, USING THAT SAME ARM/SHOULDER TO PUSH NATHAN HINDMARSH IN YOUR PATHETIC ATTEMPTS TO PROMPT A GIRLY PUSH FIGHT.

That's right, you fucken cat, your prissy little shoulder wasn't so hurt then was it? Was there fucken water from Lourdes in that trainer's bottle or fucken what!?

So that earned you your own entry in Chovpedia - the Book of Hate, you fucken albino shit-splat. (And thinking of footy wimps like you reminded me about Trent Barrett king-hitting the 4 foot 3 inch Eels hooker P.J Marsh FROM BEHIND, the weak fucken prat...)

But now you've even outdone yourself.

Now you want to move back to Queensland because you miss mummy and rainbows and the smell of fresh rose petals in the morning or some such crap. Sydney just too big and scary for you huh?

So is this why you moved from the Sydney Roosters back to Brisbane?


See, at least Sonny Bill just fucked off in the middle of the night.

And now you've gone and made me look like I'm defending Sonny Bill Williams, so fuck you for that.

Ok, maybe you were taking geography lessons from Jamie "Judas" Lyons, who left the Eels to move to the "country", apparently believing Manly to be a fucken rural community of just a few hundred horse-turds, R.M.Williams-wearing pig-rooters and tractor repairers.

Well he was right about the pig-rooters, I guess.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Welcome to the stage...the Moan-ly Sea Eagles!


First morons up against the wall - the Manly Sea Eagles.

That's it...a nice family-friendly pic. Bit of a smile. Bit of a laugh. The sponsors will love this. And if they don't we'll call their daughters sluts and punch them out at our season launch.

Having an almighty sook of fucken Biblical proportions. (That is, the biggest sook since Jehousahuah had a sook about obstruction during the 12 A.D Babylon Cup.)

Grow a pair you fucken cry-babies.

Coach Des Hasler personally offered to pay for all the match officials to visit OPSM for eye-tests.

Here's a free Chov Tip for you, Des, you hairy-bonced peanut.


The Eels scored a try from a forward pass.

They also scored one because 13 Manly players couldn't combine to make one tackle as the Eels moved the ball 110 metres in one movement and scored. But, you know, that obviously had nothing at all to do with the result.

Interestingly, Manly also scored a try that benefited from an uncalled obstruction. Also an uncalled forward pass in the set preceding their own third try.

Mentions of these incidents during Des Hasler's rant?


Mentions of the fact his team has now thrown away a 20-4 and a 20-0 lead in consecutive weeks?

Yep, you guessed it....ZERO.

"Now, let's go through this one more time! What do we do when we have the opposition pinned back on their own deadball line, 110 metres away from scoring?...Come on, someone!? Anyone!?"

But credit to Des not only for going through life with one of the worst haircuts this side of a 3 foot long mullet, credit him for helping me enjoy the Eels beating Manly even more than usual.

See it's not only fun to beat them, it's EVEN MORE FUN when they cry about it.

Stay tuned next week - Manly give up a 22-4 lead and blame ALIEN FUCKEN INVADERS, ZOMBIE PLAGUES, MAYAN CALENDARS and CLIMATE CHANGE.

I'm back. And I'm not happy.

Alright that's it.

You actually went and did it, world.

You really did. You decided that I couldn't be left alone in peace and you had to go and throw enough morons at me to really piss me off and now I'm all enraged and have to blog again.

And so now EVERYONE is going to cop a spray.

Don't blame me. Blame the morons.