Corinthian spirited, and esteemed down-to-earth rugby man of integrity Stuart Lancaster is imminently due to become a complete and utter twat, according to the RFU. In fact, under the terms of his RFU contract, Lancaster’s descent from honourable right and properness into smug bastard-dom is already several months overdue.
“It comes with the territory,” pronounced Bill Beaumont, a celebrated English git. “His whole demeanour initially earned him a great deal of respect from the wider rugby fraternity when he got the job, but I’m afraid that runs counter to our core brand values, critical success factors and other management bollocks. All this honesty and humility… frankly, it’s been getting to the players – affecting their mindset. Mark my words, by the time of the Six Nations we’ll have them all back to behaving like a bunch of shits, win lose or draw.”
Lancaster is reportedly undergoing an intensive training regime, comprising a series of ‘engagement seminars’ devised by Sir Clive Woodward and his evil henchmen. Each of these is designed to heighten a branch of key coaching attributes such ‘emitting contempt’ and ‘acting like a cock in television interviews’.
With Dai Young having secured confirmation as ‘coach’ of The Barbarians for its upcoming clashes next year against England and the British & Irish Lions, GwladRugby.com explores one of the great unanswered questions of world rugby: just what does the sporadically chosen coach of a nomadic, invitation-only team actually do?
“Essentially, all the coach has to do is get a few drinks down the boys and then get them out on the paddock to chuck it about a bit,” recalls Gareth Edwards, while expectantly looking around the room for encouragement. “Chucking it about a bit is a key tenet of the Barbarians way, along with wearing a jersey that doesn’t quite fit, and getting absolutely slaughtered.”
“And I remember the line-out calls were all-wees a load a bollix,” according to Willie John McBride and his toupee. “The hooker would just shout out a few numbers and chuck it in dere. Alan Phillips used ta get his 2s and 5s all mixed up anywee. But he made up for it in all da fights. Dai needs ta make sure he picks enough hookers for dis tour, so to speak, to be sure to be sure begorra.”
Critical to supporting a successful coaching and conditioning environment for the Barbarians players is the role of the Team Manager, Derek Quinnell. “I got big hands see, and big hands means you can get a big round in,” he thundered. “I also got to make sure all the players get flown in from around the world and put up in the right hotel. Once, before a Scotland game, Thomas Castaignede was mistakenly put up at a boarding house in Pyongyang and never heard from again.”
Ham-fisted rugby spectators are taking their passive-aggressive tendencies to the High Court up in London today, in a bid to escalate their quest for access to drinking vessels of greater thickness than a Smart Price bin bag.
The news comes as molecular physicists at the University of Pontardawe have been called in to investigate fresh reports of several Welsh rugby regions serving their diluted beer cordial in nets fashioned from the webs of spiders: “It’s a disgrace,” spat Professor Dai Ing-Foradrink. “Cutting costs is all well and good, especially as many people don’t have a pot to piss in. Piss in one of these, mind, and it’ll leak everywhere mun.”
Only last month, fans at a Cardiff Blues encounter were censured by ground staff for smuggling in condoms ‘with intent to use as an improvised beer container’. Entrepreneurially spirited Executive Chief CEO Man, Richard Holland, allegedly agreed to drop charges on the basis that rugby revellers use any such condoms/balloons/Gregg’s carrier bags under a special license, available for only a quid.
Cheese sucking rugby money-men with sweaters draped over their shoulders are counting their losses having taken delivery of mis-sold goods in the pre-Six Nations transfer market.
Beach fronted rugby pension scheme, Perpignan are particularly aggrieved at having mistaken Wales’ most mercurial ball-handler for an aged blues guitarist.
“We all luurv ze tru bleus sound from ze deep sowtz,” explained a fat, rich bloke in a beret. “Wiz Bo Diddley dead and B.B. King in advanced contract negotiations wiz Racing Metro – we fought we ad found ze perfect playur to orchestrate our backline. Owever, it turns out zis guy is – ow you say – Welsh?”
Earlier reports had mistakenly indicated James Le Hook had been enlisted into a French ‘bleu’ movie called ‘James Le Hook et La Grande Peaches’. However, an un-named French benefactor does remain locked in talks with the Ospreys on the basis they hold the registration of a flaccid John Thomas measuring 6’ 5″ in length, and who can play anywhere in the back row.
James Le Hook himself appears similarly confused about having been made Wales’s 15th richest professional sportsman. “Signing for Portmeirion is a dream come true for me,” claimed Le Hook, at a press conference in Portmeirion. “I really want to start at 10, but whatever time of day training happens it’s up to the new coach to decide.”
As scrummaging aficionados peck over the remains of the Welsh front row in the run up to this year’s Six Nations championship, Ospreys’ coaching semi-supremo (supremo-semi?) Sean Holley has been airing his expert views on the matter.
“If the scrum is Wales’ Achilles heel, then the boys will have to avoid tripping over their shoelaces,” quipped Holley, whose ability to break new ground in the field of ridiculous analogies is second only to his inability to turn two-dozen internationals into a rugby team. “I like to think of the Welsh scrum dilemma as a bad case of piles, in which case I’m certain Paul James will prove himself an effective blow-up rubber ring, and Craig Mitchell a tube of Anusol. But then I am biased.”
In other news, Holley has followed up recent comments lamenting the counterproductive effects of employing the majority of the Welsh rugby squad, by declaring Lee Byrne up for sale along with another as-yet-unnamed Welsh capped loose forward. “We have to get some of these Welsh internationals off our books, and replace them with fresh-faced untried youngsters like perhaps Tom Shanklin and Martyn Williams.”
Arctic dancer and sometime orange rugby player Gavin Henson has claimed that the words to the Welsh National Anthem are all wrong and that its tune isn’t as good as England’s.
“England’s anthem starts with the word God, which is a much more positive and inspirational opener than ours, which starts with Hen,” commented Henson, over high tea at the Ritz. “Starting it with Henson would be a much better option. In fact, I always sung it like that anyway.”
PR guru Clifford Max believes this latest outburst is a vain attempt to keep Henson in the spotlight, in the run up to the launch of ‘It’s a Hard Life’; Henson’s new book.
“He’ll want to get back on the telly with a quip like that, as being in the Western Mail doesn’t really count.”