All posts by Davster

Welsh Dublin Go-ers advised: “Bring ewer kit”.

Warren Gatland asked all travelling Welsh supporters heading for the smouldering euro-rubble that used to be Dublin if they wouldn’t mind packing their Wales shorts, socks and boots as well as their 2XL shirts.

Gatland issued the desperate plea as he compared the Welsh training camp to a scene from Platoon. At the rate players were dropping out, the beleaguered coach calculated that he would be through the entire squad, the under 20s, the regional players, the entirety of Welsh-qualified club players, promising school kids and Steve Shingler by 9.30 on Saturday night. Meaning that Gatland was looking solemnly at the travelling army of pie-chomping amateur lager drinkers and their harem of shrieking glittery cow-girls, lurking at the bottom of the barrel. “Four sucks fake”, said Gatland, or something similar.

Far from being downhearted at this turn of events, a significant number of fans were in exuberant mood at the prospect of earning their first cap. “I’d prefer it to be in Cardiff, natch”, said Lee ‘Burger King’ Jones of Tredegar. “At 39 I’d started to think the chance might have gone, but I knew if I just hung around stadiums long enough with my kit underneath my pulling clothes, the door was always open. I’m putting my hand up big time, and in all fairness, I slept in a hedge last Saturday on the way home from the curry house. In these temperatures that’s got to be on a par with anything the boys did in Poland”.

Bodies everywhere

Kate Roberts, 27 of Port Talbot was similarly undaunted: “My Grandkids say I’m the easiest-going girl around, but if you chuck four Smirnoff ices down me on an empty stomach and a sight of Ronan O’Gara I go ‘Nagasaki’ big-style. Stick me at 7 and I’ll have him on toast.”

Others like 54 year old builder ‘Tubs’ Parry of Llanishen, were a little more realistic. “This time of year my arthritis means I take a while to get going, but if it’s holding up a scrum against Cian Healy that’s wanted, I reckon I can give them 60 minutes tops.”

"I'll take ewe all on"

Delilah’s ‘other man’ was French


That’s right, the bloke who drove Tom Jones to murder his woman back in 1968 was named Pierre. He met Jonesy’s woman in Pontypridd Co-op having ‘accidentally’ reached and grabbed hold of the same cucumber in the grocery aisle. Having overwhelmed her with suggestive eyebrow raising and the aroma of cheap rollies and garlic, he insisted on going back to hers for “making zee pashonat lurving”. This turned out to be a rough artless pounding over the arm of the sofa and the curr never even had the decency to take his socks off.

He left early doors the next day for the ferry back to Dieppe, but by then Jonesy had been outside all night in a right old stew having witnessed the silhouetted piston-like transaction of the previous evening on the blinds of the front room. Spending all night in Ynysangharad park and getting through 8 cans of kestrel, Jonesy steamed in to have it out with her. Sadly he looked a right state and she just burst out laughing when she opened the door, so Jonesy felt the need to stab her 43 times, drive her in the boot and drop her in the Taff with bricks in her dressing gown pockets.

The judge was very reasonable, and in summing up at the trial, said: “for the rest of her life – had she lived – Delilah would have had day-dreaming yearnings for a French portion; once women have had a taster of some Gallic contempt-sex it stays with them forever. It was kinder this way”. Jonesy was sentenced to an afro and a duet with the as-yet-unborn Robbie Williams.

Health experts warning of exploding Welsh

There are currently two kinds of people in Wales; those who are already fearing a beating from France and set for a week of utter nervous torment, and those who have embraced the teachings of the Optimism Gnome and are set for a week of delirious adrenalin-fuelled over-exuberance punctuated by occasional calls to ambulance staff to administer sedatives or slaps, and some involuntary weeing.

Either way, the economic outlook for Wales this week is grim, with those guilt-driven enough to bother to turn up to work likely to spend most of their time on the pan, at prayer, or both. Most though are expected to go “on the gnome”, securing end of tournament passes from their GP for conditions including nervous exhaustion, delirium and jippy guts.

The nation’s chapels have resorted to putting up signs outside stating that the lord is not interested in receiving your Nan or your daughter into nunneries, nor has he any planned use for the limb you’re volunteering to cut off in return for a win against France.

Health experts are fearing the worst. One consultant stated “Jesus Christ, will you look at the state of these graphs? The one on the left is the Wales of old in the 2003 six nations whitewash. See how the levels of optimism drop back within safe levels after regular beatings, only to irrationally recover again before the next game? Then look at that bastard on the right; the latest readings are nuts. The Welsh psyche is simply not designed to cope with sustained winning on a weekly basis. The combination of high blood pressure, hyperactivity and erections will lead to nothing less than people just exploding in the street. That’s right, exploding!”

Experts advise that the best way to avoid imminent physical and mental meltdown is to relax as much as possible, share a quiet pint with comrades for mutual support, try and remember that you’re not the one who’s had a couple of weeks in a Polish torture camp, and try on a pair of these…


RWC Briefs

Halfpenny uses ‘The Force’ instead of puny human vision

Midichlorian count is off the scale

Leigh Halfpenny has evolved his Jedi powers to the extent that he no longer needs to use human vision. Tapping into ‘The Force’, Halfpenny now ‘sees’ space in eight dimensions and three seconds before it happens. The Western Mail asked if it was like being a bat. Halfpenny said it wasn’t. “Can we call you the batman anyway?” they said. “No, no you can’t”, said Halfpenny having had three seconds to contain his bilious contempt.


Area the size of Wales at risk of over-excitement about George North

Area at risk, with UN evacuation sites highlighted

An area approximately the size of Wales is reported to be genuinely at risk from some sort of explosion due to growing excitement over how good George North is. The thresholds of human capability for keeping a lid on such things are being sorely tested, as the Norfolk-Anglesey hybrid continues to process opposition defences like some sort of divine threshing machine.

The UN have already declared that containment is no longer the strategy and have moved on to planning for rebuilding society in the resulting crater.


‘Fiji’ now the name of choice for handbag dogs

The owner is scarier

Once upon a time Fiji was the name of marauding cannibalistic giants that roamed the countryside flattening buildings, stealing away cattle and small children, and causing endless nightmares and insurance claims. Now it is the name of Jack Russell/ Hamster cross-breeds employed by Z-list celebrity women to shit in their handbags.


‘Entitlement Leprechaun’ demands world cup victory

The Entitlement Leprechaun has presented the IRB with a seventeen-volume dossier detailing over three-thousand years’ worth of hardships visited upon the Irish race which in his view validates his case that it’s their year. An IRB statement confirmed that the route to winning the world cup would still be decided by the traditional scoreboard method rather than by finding the end of a rainbow.


Dan Carter’s state-funded concubines deny causing injury

All-black golden-boy Dan Carter’s harem have pleaded their innocence from death row over his groin-related injury. The nation has pointed an accusing finger at the 300 nubile vixens funded by their tax dollars to keep the demi-god resident on their shores lest he go to Europe again and the crops fail.

A spokesperson for the girls, known only as ‘Tuesday 10-11am’ claimed that since watching the first England game, “the Dauphin has not been moved to partake of coupling, and instead hides away in a darkened chamber, weeping tears of sorrow for the death of beauty.”


The Rhondda STI Index

Herpes – 348

Chlamydia – 217

Gonorrhea – 142

Antibiotic-resistant throat ulcers – 94


Scorers Hooky, Ickle and Priestland, with gamebreaker Shove: Put the whole nasty nightmare to bed.

If a twinkie bar was to represent the normal psychokinetic energy in the Waikato area, then at around 4.30am BST on Sunday morning, the PKE reading could only be illustrated by a twinkie the size of 22 massive polynesians fed on a diet of fish and missionaries. It was all set to not be pretty, and the effects were being felt half way round the globe where readings were off the chart and of a kind not seen since the extraphenomenical paranormal episodes of 1991 and 1999.

Thank Christ, therefore, that the Ectomobile turned up at the event horizon with 22 registered ghostbusters packing proton mass drivers and a real snarling attitude to putting up with this kind of blatant contravention of inter-dimensional roaming laws. Witnesses describe an 80 minute event of unprecedented ferocity with neither side prepared to have any regard for city byelaws and anyone’s health and safety. Once the smoke cleared to reveal catastrophic damage, not least from Priestland’s out-on-the-full ion beams, it emerged that the repeat cross-over attempt had failed and that somehow, through immense guts and determination, the threat had been wonderfully contained in smouldering traps with benignly blinking lights on their valence indicators.

Thus was an entire nation released from its nightmares and the threat of further hauntings gone for a generation. Victims of past events queued up beside civilians to pay tribute to the heroics of the class of 2011, who today emerge to a bright sunny world of fluttering butterflies, cute bunnies, soothing birdsong and a solid eight hours of sleep.

Scott Gibbs, Neil Jenkins & Ieuan Evans: Fallen Jedis who may now find peace, and more cheeseburgers.