All posts by Davster

Pope resigns over prospect of English Grand Slam

“Not on my shift”

The Vatican has revealed that the Pope’s shock resignation on Monday came after a long night of soul-searching following England’s victory over Ireland in Dublin at the weekend.

Sources close to the Pontiff reveal that Pope Benedict gave up watching the game after O’Gara’s penalty miss in the 70th minute, mumbled “well that’s it then”, and sloped off to his private quarters with a bottle of gin for company.

Cardinals agreed that they had never seen the Bishop of Rome so downcast, and spent that night in fervent prayer for the return of his sprightly Teutonic mirth.

Then on Monday came the dramatic announcement that His Holiness had had enough, and despite some suggestions that a bacon sarnie, a couple of Alka Seltzer and a brisk walk around the garden would set him back on the path to contentment, the 85 year old insisted that he no longer had the strength for what appeared from Sunday’s match to be very dark days ahead.

The Catholic church has long preached the doctrine that every time England win a game an Angel starts struggling for breath, coughs up a bit of black tar, then suddenly explodes leaving a steaming puddle of rotten ooze. Benedict had wasted no time following the surprise English win over New Zealand in warning the faithful where this kind of thing might lead; Grand slams, English dominated Lions tours, and (cross-yourself) a world cup on home turf.

“A storm is coming”, said the Pope, probably in Latin to reach the widest possible audience, “and frankly I’m off to some remote monastery where they don’t have Scrum V or Gwlad soiler threads and you can’t hear the Angels scream. The very thought that I might have to hear the post-grand slam thoughts of Austin Healy is the single most terrifying prospect of my life. And that’s coming from someone who met Hitler.”

Michalak “having a mare” is the new slogan for the growing horse meat market.

Freddy Michalak, the rugby equivalent of Eddie ‘The Eagle’ Edwards, is to spearhead the rearguard campaign to persuade the public that the horsemeat being illegally fed to them is actually proper lush.

The ‘enfant du merde’ of French rugby is to star in a new commercial to promote equine meat products. The advert begins as he walks down a typical French high street, and after only a few paces a small child approaches him and says “are you Freddy Michalak?”. The Toulon star smiles and pulls out a biro ready to sign an autograph only for the urchin to say “My gran’s better than you. And she’s dead”.  The kid treads on his foot before stealing his biro and running off.

A glum Michalak then encounters a really stunning French woman, like that Nicole off the Renault Clio adverts, who promises him some uncomplicated acts of lust back at her place if he carries her shopping. The hapless star is seen grinning feverishly as he accompanies the girl, carrying her bags, only to catch one of them on a passing bicycle spilling the fresh fruit and veg over the dirty pavement. “Thanks a ton, Jackass”, says the irate woman as she picks up the mess and shoos him away.

Michalak then walks carelessly into a lamppost, has a bucket of still-warm urine poured over him from a third storey apartment window and treads in a particularly funky dog turd in his new white trainers. Appearing to be on the verge of tears, International team mate Mathieu Bastareaud calls over to him, “hey buddy, pass me that ball”. Michalak delights in picking up a nearby rugby ball and flinging it to his chum.

“I’m not paying for that window, Fred,” says Bastereaud, “Christ almighty, I’m right here”.

Bastereaud puts his arm around his blubbing friend and leads him into a Burger bar. “Mate”, he says as Michalak holds a horse burger up to his mouth, “you’re having a mare”. The pair chortle before a large torrent of mayonnaise oozes from the burger into Freddy’s lap.

Reports suggest that any success in swaying public opinion on horsemeat may be short-lived as a fresh scandal emerges from Irish abattoirs, where tests reveal some horsemeat products contain traces of the Irish midgets in silk pyjamas that live on the horses’ backs.

Optimism Gnome gagged and bound and stowed away in the airing cupboard

He’s at it again. The three foot high over-exhuberant maniac has turned up for Grandslam week far too early and is plaguing the households of Welsh people everywhere with talk of easy wins and pre-ordering victory T-shirts and DVDs. Do stop it, there’s a lovely butty bach.

He’s pointing at all sorts of evidence for his manic chipperness; France want the roof open, Fofana’s been hidden on the wing, Sam’s back, the letters spelling “Cymru” in scrabble are worth “12” points – but the empty bottle of penderyn and four-pack of red bull are more likely to be the fuel for the little fella’s fit of frenzy. But when he caps it off trying to look up your missus’ skirt and starts hosing away in the kitchen sink singing ‘hymns and arias’ then it’s time to stow him away in the airing cupboard and gag him. Leave him in there with a warm flannel and a copy of Razzle and he should burn himself out soon enough.

Some say at full moon he wears a deer’s skull and rides a chariot along the Heads of the Valleys road pulled by George North and Alex Cuthbert, some say he turned down a role in the new Hobbit film over a philosophical protest at large corporate media killing innovation in the arts, some say his erogenous zones cover most of South Wales. All we know is that sometimes before a match you want to stick his head in a food blender, but at the end of the day, he’s only trying to help. He loves us, and sometimes we love him back.

Here’s to optimism, the amazing prospect of 3 grandslams in 8 years and the 22 boys trying to get us there. C’mon Wales!

Severn Bridge Troll given stop and search powers for Welsh Players heading for France

The Severn Bridge Troll – looking a bit like Garin Jenkins in the right light – has been given additional emergency powers to search vehicles heading back to France this weekend to root out Welsh players looking to sneak out to take the filthy Euro.
Roger Lewis met Troll earlier in the week to go through the new measures, which for the first time include the right to hoist vehicles in the air and shake people out, ripping the tops off coaches to peer inside and a general right to intimidate and confiscate shiny things that might look nice in his cave near Sudbrook.

Lewis has taken the dramatic action following the trickle of established Welsh stars to the Med and hopes the prospect of having their legs eaten by Troll will prevent others turning the trickle into a flood. The WRU supremo sees this weekend’s travelling French support as presenting a dangerous opportunity for players to stowaway in car boots and coach luggage holds. He’s asked Troll to look out for players disguised as accordion players and cockerels, providing the giant bridge bouncer with sample onions, garlic and cheap gauloises to get the tell-tale scent of French-bound traffic.

Troll would like to reassure non-Welsh qualified players and all who are simply no good at rugby that they have nothing to fear as they attempt to leave the Promised Land via the M4. He hopes everyone has a top weekend and the French leave for home, tired, sad and very light on prime Welsh rugby talent.

Famous Rugby Players doing a Poo

This week: Dylan Hartley (Northampton & England)

"Similar to passing a dwarf"

Professor Crappenboffin says: “I’m sensing here a real girth, somewhat like childbirth – maybe similar to passing a dwarf. This is a monstrous struggle and every sinew is focussed on the manly task. Man’s lonely inner struggle is epitomised here by the heroic Hartley. I’m also picking up some genuine angry disappointment at this titanic conflict being thrust upon him unexpectedly during a live televised rugby match in front of a large audience”.

John Redwood urges Wales to be cold and emotionless against Italy

John Redwood, self-proclaimed Ambassador to Earth from the planet Vulcan, has urged the Welsh team to display the kind of cold calculating mindset against Italy on Saturday that would qualify them for jobs in Vulcan abattoirs. Redwood, whose human costume requires a complicated system of 3,000 micro-pulleys to produce an ineffective serial killer smile, insisted that this Welsh team would earn nothing but pan-galactic contempt if they didn’t run up a pure mathematical maximum of 1530 points against the Azurri.

This would allow for 22 seconds to score each of their 218 tries allowing for 2 seconds for the kick-off, 15 seconds to run it back in under the posts and 5 seconds for the resulting easy conversion – although Redwood conceded that this may require some supportive refereeing.

The former Secretary of State for Wales has been kept in a muzzle and straightjacket in a secure unit on Lundy Island for a number of years, but recent good behaviour will see him be allowed to watch the match on Saturday. “The people of Wales have always been close to where my heart should be”, stated the icy-eyed alien, “and I shall be providing whatever logical support I can over liver with some fava beans a nice chianti, fufufufufu”.