Having had rugby’s greatest living imbeciles line up to spout their semi-racist vitriol in the wake of Warren Gatland’s Lions XV selection, Wales is preparing to walk in to work on Monday morning to face a bunch of bastards eager to tear-up the Welsh flag, abolish bake-stones and construct a self-defeating funeral pyre made of coal.
“If this was Mississippi in the 1950s, then Warren Gatland would be some horrible do-gooding equal rights libertarian who’d just committed the ultimate sacrilege by naming a team containing a few… well I think you know what I’m saying,” commented one of any number of ex-internationals who should know better, earlier this week. “But this is worse – not only is it not the good old 50s anymore, but these… beings… are Welsh. Get it? W-E-L-S-H. Urrgghhh!”
In the event that the British & Irish Lions win against Australia in the final test, First Minister Carwyn Jones will immediately declare war on England for the pure hell of it, with a mortar strike on Oswestry where Stuart Barnes is understood to own several cakes and a sausage roll. “We don’t want them to like us,” said Jones. “Bloody hell mun, the Hatred, Mistrust and Casual Xenophobic Sleight industry is worth millions to both nations!”
We say: C’mon the Lions – ALL of you!!
Toffee-nosed bastards at the RFU have had their fill of “swarthy ex-miners with a penchant for close harmony singing”, according to official minutes released in relation to the London Welsh points-docking disciplinary debacle.
Insiders report that this week’s appeal hearing started badly when London Welsh CEO Tony Copsey regaled the committee with his Richard Burton impersonation before leading well wishers in a lusty rendition of ‘You Can Stick Your F—king Chariots Up Your Arse (Aye Aye Yippy Yippy Aye)’. Conflicting reports still surround the subsequent spilling of Brains, and its impact on Welsh’s relegation plight.
“They’ve all had it in for us since the first game,” snarled Copsey. “We wondered how Leicester Tigers managed to ban our half-time Motorcycle Sheep Display Team from performing when it was actually held at our own ground, not theirs. Now we know it was them stinkin’ Saes.”
“The French have had their worst international season on record, and it’s no surprise with all the leek-munchers plying their trade over there,” guffawed Miles Rathbone-Squib, Presiding Tosser of the RFU Disciplinary Board. “The cultural impact of having a team full of them can’t be underestimated, as anyone who’s ever attended a London Welsh post-match buffet will testify. A table-full of exclusively beige sweet and savoury sundries might be de rigeur in Pontypandy, but we don’t want that sort of thing in our league.”
“Don’t get me wrong; some of my best friends are Welsh coloured.”
Every branch of Waitrose west of the M25 has been cleaned out of vol au vents, Pimm’s and prawn sandwiches, as panic buying Cardiff-centric hoteliers, restaurateurs and chip vans stock up in readiness for the arrival of beloved rugby brethren from the other side of Offa’s Dyke.
“Fortnum & Mason hampers have been selling like Welsh cakes, and we’re down to our last pound and a half of fruit tea,” claimed Rupert Bear, head ponce at the Howells Food Hall on St Mary’s Street. “It’s going to be carnage, especially if England win. For God’s sake keep your children safe at home: the streets could be running pink with Prosecco Blush 2011.”
Police attention has turned to opportunistic spicy carbohydrate suppliers active in the capital city’s famous Chip Alley district, as reports surface about meat products of unknown provenance. “We’ve been offered some right funny shit,” burped a well-known kebab magnate who wished to remain anonymous. “What we thought was lard turned out to be liver from an overweight goose. There’s no way we’re offering customers that, even if they are English.”
Meanwhile, as the two teams complete their pre-match preparations, uncertainty surrounds the selection of Owen Farrell at fly-half for England ahead of a potential ‘kicker-takes-all’ contest with Wales’ Leigh Halfpenny.
“If he does play, whoever comes out on top could be taking kicks for the Lions in the summer,” gushed the impartial John Inverdale, while rhythmically rubbing his hands up and down his legs. “The way Halfpenny looks up at the posts before he strikes the ball, presumably recalling the hardships of his Welsh upbringing in a cave; it’s so touching – literally. And then there’s Owen – it’s all in those gorgeous eyes with Owen – a majestic presence with his clenched buttocks, chiselled hair and designer bloodstain. He can slot my conversion any time he likes.”
Rob Howley’s enduring mission to find a coat that actually fits him enters a new chapter this weekend with the revelation that Millett’s on Princes Street has got a sale on.
“Kick off at Murrayfield is at 2:30pm so I should be able to fit a quick browse in between the pre-match meal and the anthems, though I doubt I’ll find anything,” lamented the ace Wales coach, who’s remarkable physique features shorter-than-average arms and a hernia the size of watermelon. “I’ve done the three-quarter length waterproof look to death, but the sleeves keep coming past my hands and I can’t see over the collar when it’s turned up. I might go for a big knit if they’ve got a 2 for 1 and the queue isn’t too long.”
In a special exclusive for tomorrow’s Western Mail 17-page international weekend special, Howley also discloses the team bus seating plan, providing revealing insights into squad dynamics.
“Adam Jones is the first on, and always sits right at the back – in the middle. That’s for practical reasons you understand, else we’d have to have the two physios and all the balls come in a separate car. Then you’ve got George North and Toby Falateu who I’ve got notes from their mams saying if they sit backwards then they’ll get a bit too queasy. James Hook is another interesting one. He always stands in the vestibule next to the steps and the chemical toilet to keep his legs fresh for sitting on the bench for the first 75 minutes of every match.”
Pennywise spendthrifts at the Ospreys are appealing to the WRU for release from a forfeit still outstanding from the last meeting of the Professional Regional Game Board. The forfeit, incurred for pointing with a finger (of the non-drinking hand) at the Chairman during his rendition of Elton John’s “I Guess That’s Why We All Hate The Blues”, forces the Riviera based region to make inexplicable scrum-half signings.
“That last fella with all the apostrophes is off to Northampton, so they’ve been forced to go into the transfer market and sign another international who’ll be away for most of the Autumn and the Six Nations,” said the rugby equivalent of Tony off of Bullseye: Sean Holley. “I’ve got it on good authority that Andrew Hore says this has really hit them for sucks.”
Elsewhere, lesser drinking forfeits are still in evidence among Wales’ other three regional rugby franchises. At the Blues, coach Phil Davies has made much of his commitment to keep a squad with at least 25 players under the age of 25, but is privately livid of the requirement to have 4 of them be called “Phil Davies”.
Under the rules of “Buzz”, The Dragons and Scarlets need only recruit one ex-scaffolder each per season.
Stalemate has caught hold surrounding the latest inertia of preliminary pre-discussion dialogue in the run-up to the next Welsh Rugby Professional Rugby Game Board meeting, as serious coffee and biscuit irregularities threaten to usher owners, regulators, administrators and Tracksuit Stalins back to their hideously furnished offices forever.
“The first version of the agenda I saw clearly listed ‘Digestives’ which I took to be a personal insult to all that I hold dear in this world,” commented a senior representative of the Newport Wales Europe Dragons delegation, who runs his own personal fiefdom and 12-site shit-packing factory with a strict Chocolate Bourbon only policy. “I deserve respect after everything I’ve done for Welsh rugby. Respect, and those little paper doilies like you get at the Celtic Manor.”
Elsewhere, on the dark side of Llanelli, feelings are running just as high over the perceived misuse of a tea urn. “I’ve got nothing against the likes of Gareth Thomas and all those other Cardiff characters who pursue an alternative cosmopolitan lifestyle, but I’ve never had a cappuccino in my life and I’m not starting now,” complained one ex-player with vested interests and a face like an old toenail. “All we’re asking for is slightly more money than we can possibly spend. Oh, and those funny shaped lumps of sugar that look like very expensive animal droppings.”
In response, WRU Overlord and semi-retired hitman Dai “With His Boots On” Pickering was unrepentant, “I am unrepentant,” he said, with trademark quiet menace. “If I wants to gives ‘em a Garibaldi what’s been laced with arsenic then they’s gonna be eating it. Right?”
Rumours persist that overly cheerful WRU Walking Job Title Roger Lewis VC is trying to galvanise a new ‘hard man’ image by installing a giant motivational poster on his office wall picturing broken shards of bone next to a bloodied butter knife, with the solidary word: ‘PERSEVERANCE’. A recently installed filing cabinet has inadvertently amplified the effect by obscuring the letters ‘P-E-R’.