ROGBY!

Hello there, you tiny handful of Dan's friends, hello, hello and welcome to my inaugural match report on A Sporting Bet.

It was a game the "noble sport of Rugby" played early on Saturday morning and the combatants were a number of men in yellow shirts (Australia) and a number of men in red shirts (Wales). I assume the match was happening in Australia, that or God has forsaken the Welsh and permanently darkened their skies whilst making them play Rugby on Saturday mornings.

To be honest, this won't be much of a match report for a number of reasons:

1.) I didn't take any notes. None. Which would be Ok if it wasn't for the fact that..

2.) I don't have even basic knowledge of the rules of Rugby, so the most of the match was spent with me in a state of baffled confusion. Every now and again Dan would shout or groan, or break into song for no discernible reason, and I would have to ask him what had just happened, which frequently was less than helpful.

Here's a sample:

[Much running and passing on pitch, red player one passes to red player two,]
DAN (shouts): NOOOOOOOO!
[Ed drops his beer in shock, and stares at the screen where red player two has just passed the ball to red player three]
ED (confused): What...what happened?
DAN (still staring fixedly at the screen) : Oh, Canahoolanrahan [or someone] just dummied the back spin reversal [or something] which will give the Aussies.. NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
[Ed stares confusedly at screen, nothing much appears to have happened)
ED: What happened?

repeat.

3.) I was in the grip of a bastard of a hangover. (Ladies and Gentlemen, a tip: don't attempt to nurse a hangover next to a fat Welshman who keeps shouting for no reason and making you drink beer).

But all of that being said, here goes.

THE BEGINNING

When we turned on the TV, we were in the Welsh dressing room (horrifying, I know) and a pack of burly, angry looking men were running on the spot. Quite a few of them had beards, all of the looked ugly and intent with the exception of one smooth skinned guy with ridiculous vertical hair and a face that looked like a cross between Johnny Suede and Butthead from Beavis and Butthead, who looked like he was remembering that he'd left the oven on or suddenly needed a really big poo, (more on Butthead Suede later). Then something happened, and they all charged out of the changing rooms with a weird prancing gait and into the light of the stadium.

THE SONGS

Both teams sang (disappointingly not at the same time, as I quite liked the idea of battling national anthems). They were led respectively by some famous Australian singer and a mousey looking Welsh bloke.

I say they sang, but as the camera panned along the line of Welsh players (a nation who, let's not forget, are famous for their singing), there was Butthead Suede NOT SINGING. He wasn't even pretending to sing, just standing there like a bouffanted lemon with his trademarked "Do I need a poo?" look on his face. Dan informs me that he's going out with Charlotte Church so perhaps he now hates singing so much he can't bring himself to sing ever again (Actually Butthead Suede's relationship perhaps explains his expression - more "Hmmm, axe, chainsaw or poison?" rather than "Do I need a poo?"). I told Dan that I thought this showed a lack of commitment on Butthead's part and clearly the Welsh coach agreed as once they'd finished singing, off trotted Butthead to sit on the naughty bench.

THE GAME!

Much running about. For a while it looked like Wales were going to win, then it looked like they weren't, then they got back in front again - and so on. The received wisdom (from Dan), is that they played luckily but not well. Then, thrillingly (cof), in the final minute with Wales a point ahead, on of the Welsh players jumped at a ball when he should have run at a man, and the Aussies scored to win. This was met with delight by the Aussies, stoic acceptance by the Welsh team and bizarre howling noises and extensive swearing from Dan.


THE SUMMARY

Whilst Dan was finding the whole thing a riot, from my point of view it all seemed slow and (dare I say it) boring, like watching the same scene of film (a scene where some men jump on some other men and shout) over and over again from slightly different angles. In fact, in it's structure it was a lot like pornography (where you essentially watch the same thing happen over and over again, but from slightly different angles) but pornography that only involved burly angry men and occasionally Butthead Suede (whose uniform, by the way, remained spookily white and pristine throughout the match...like he was A ROBOT!...).

So that's my summary. Watching Wales play Australia was like watching bad gay pornography.

Chew on that, sports fans.