Michael Clarke doesn't even carry his own bat on or off the ground
I officially have a new nemesis.
A whole bunch of stuff that rarely involves anything to do with breakfast.
Michael Clarke doesn't even carry his own bat on or off the ground
I officially have a new nemesis.
Sorry it has been so long since my last post, but I was deciding where to sit and it took me longer than I thought.
My crowbar has been gathering dust lately, and there are too many people wandering around without gaping wounds in their head, so it’s time to brush off the cobwebs (I got the old lady who lives in the apartment downstairs to do that actually, just in case there were still spiders hanging around) and get cracking on some deserving skulls. Today, I'm focusing on the fuckwit on the Cottees ad.
There has always been something about this guy that never quite sat well with me. I mean, I get the joke, don’t get me wrong. His name is Elizabeth. He’s a man. He likes ravioli. Funny stuff.
After a few times watching this ad, it dawned on me - he’s a fuckwit. He approaches this poor old duck working doing merchandising at Woolies spruiking cordial and starts laying into her. She’s just doing her job and minding her own business when Captain Fuckwit comes along and starts taunting her for giving away free samples of a refreshing beverage.
"You can make twice as much cordial by using half as much?" asks Fuckwit.
"Yep," replies the old duck.
"Bull-fucking-shit," says he, mocking her openly and loudly.
Why would the guy pick on her about his disbelief for cordial concentrate? It’s not like she invented the stuff - fuck it, she’s not even selling it; she’s giving it away. How much does this guy’s life suck that he needs to pick on people who work at the supermarket to make himself feel better? How does this guy react to mormons coming to his door, or people collecting money for the Salvos? I think it’s safe to assume that he beats them to death with their own bibles, cuts off their ears to make necklaces and hides their bodies in barrels of battery acid that he keeps in his garage. I also think he needs to reprioritise his life if he’s this passionate about cordial, and should stop spending his weekends hanging out at Cottees stands, slugging away at free cordial and giving shit to the old duck who really doesn’t deserve his fuckwit rants. She could be so affected by his verbal assault that suddenly she isn’t having such a good day - she feels old and unattractive, like her job is useless, like she has no worth. She doesn’t care for the fruity, sweet flavour of Cottees cordial, and instead prefers the sour bite of drinking straight meth and begging for cigarettes at the bus interchange.
This guy just needs to do what everyone else in the world has done and accept the fact that there’s been a change in the Cottees formula that allows for better concentration and you can make more Fruit Punch than you could before.
And there’s really no need to look so fucking happy about being called Elizabeth.
Eels vs Rabbitohs (I have to get it right eventually)
Titans vs Broncos
Panthers vs Sharks
Warriors vs Dragons
Bulldogs vs Roosters
Sea Eagles vs Knights
Cowboys vs Storm
Tigers vs Raiders
Motherfucking Raiders. Last week’s game was kind of horrible to watch, but I did manage to get a pie and some beers at the game, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time for me. The players obviously had other things to do than turn up and play, which is fine. I think Deuce Bigalow was on telly, so that’s a decent excuse. I especially like the scene where Deuce attacks the army of midget prostitutes with a giant black dildo.
This week, the Mighty Green Machine is up against the Tigers, the team that knocked our boys out of certain premiership glory last year. The experts will look at the more fancied Canberra forwards to overcome the Tigers pack, but the Tigers backs have more experience to outclass the Raiders backline, but in the end it all comes down to the uniform. Canberra’s green jerseys will blend in more with the field and allow them to launch a few surprise attacks. Raiders by 3 in a tight one that they probably won’t deserve to win.
Brett Mullins. Isn't he beautiful? (yes) Photo used without permission and definitely for free.
MEB cumulative score: 5 (yes, really).
Big Mal brings the cup home to Canberra. I am near the back wearing a hat. Look for me.
Welcome to season 2011, it’s nice to have you with us for another year of tips and picks for the wonderful game of rugby league. The NRL had a successful launch last week with one player being charged with assault and another for driving under the influence. There are still a few hours to go before kick-off, so I wouldn’t be surprised if someone didn’t add some sexual misconduct in there too – but I would be surprised if I was the one being misconducted. In the rare instance that I do get touched up by a pissed league player though, I always carry a camera and a copy of PhotoShop around with me.
This year’s tipping format will be slightly different from last year in that I’m not going to bore everyone shitless with a synopsis of each game. I have instead decided to concentrate all of my power into the mighty Canberra Raiders and will give my full attention to them (I think that was a sexual innuendo), unless there’s something else I’d rather talk about; in which case you should be prepared for some recent scientific theories about dinosaurs or how annoying that Natasha girl from Neighbours is.
And so, here we go for Rrrrrrrround One!
Broncos vs Cowboys
Roosters vs Souths
Titans vs Dragons
Warriors vs Eels
Storm vs Manly
Panthers vs Knights
Dogs vs Tigers
Raiders vs Sharks
2010 was a disappointing year for the Sharks, as the Grey Nurse took over the Great White as being “raddest fish in the sea” and Greg Norman lost to Happy Gilmore in a game of Pitch n Putt. Seriously, who the fuck are the Sharks? No one, that’s who. The Raiders will piss this one in, which is handy, because I’m buying them all beers before, during and after the game. I love you, Josh Dugan! WOOOO!
Close enough, Doogs.
PS. I love Alan Tongue too – one day he nodded ‘hello’ to me as we rode our bikes past each other. Either that or he was trying to crack onto me. Or he was trying to tell me that I had forgotten to put on pants.
PPS. I love Terry Campese as well, even though he has a broken leg. I will feed him grapes in his hospital bed if he wants (Terry, do you want me to come over this weekend? I am free on Saturday morning and after the game on Sunday. And on Monday, cause it’s a public holiday).
Mike Hussey is so attractive, it's dangerous to show his entire head in photos