Paddy’s Day Sale
Well now lads, what the feck is happening at Sunbury nowadays? What the freakin’ hell is going into their post-training meals?Having made the six from six feckings of them tractor lads in the ‘West Cooooountray’ after disposing of the feisty Brizzle, London Irish are third!
Now what?
Oh, a mere gnats foreskin of a challenge against the side from Stockport called Sale Sharks; them lucky feckers who have received the invite this year for our biggest crowd of the season.
Okay, so the game is as huge as a freaking huge bag of them huge feckers from Hugeville, County Massive, and the opposition are a bit tasty as well.
Phillippe Saint Andre, the dad of Jordon’s fella, Peter, has been the best DOR of the season and has got his Northern lads firing. His chargers have been the most impressive side in all aspects of the game, up to their visit in Reading. A real chance for Brian Smith to measure progress and state a claim for the semi-finals of the AG Grand final, and that just sounds fecking ridiculous!
They are the highest points-takers in the league with 431 in the ‘For’ column, 38 tries helping gain this total, which is only second to them fecking Pests. Their defence isn’t bad either, with the opposition having the freakin’ lallys to cross their whitewash on 28 occasions. Four try bonus points in their 12 victories and 2 losing bonuses during only four defeats means, top of the league and in the quarter –finals of the HC! Now, lads, this could more of a fecking for the Irish than the one issued to the population of the Emerald Isle by the famine!
Jesus, what a team to select to celebrate the day of the great man that was St Patrick.
Still, the man who invented Guinness near St James Gate while fecking a few snakes during captivity by some unnamed English Rugby team in 1759 (probably those cheating tiger-feckers), would want nothing else. The Exiles can don a hat emblazoned with his porter creation upon it and give this one a good lash.
Sale can and have been beaten, so these games must be targeted to gain some sort of game plan and a tad of confidence.
Sorries did it last week, all be it against a depleted Shark’s outfit missing 65 international players, and bedazzled the drummer.
Ah, then Glaws must be the game to target, but shoite, it was at Castle Grim when Glaws were not a bad team at the start of a season.
Okay, then the Pests at Wycombe, but every English side loses there, and this was with 14 players!
It has to be the Brizzle game then? Another fecking game without their international players. Why didn’t we get a craic at them last week? Jesus!
I will ponder more.
Jordon’s Father-in-law will be selecting from his full squad for this game, well, all bar Sea-bass!
Saint Sebastien of Chabal, nicknamed after his love of poetry, will have to be content with a few blacks as he serves out a suspension. This was for a minor incident between himself and Do-fecking-lally. He got two weeks for rubbing his insole over the chest of the quiet reserved one, an award questioned by the media. Had he not been a disgusting fecker by spitting at Fraser Waters, a medal may have been pinned to his fecking huge chest!
Now, the loss of this chunk of French bouef, will be as big as Bannockburn losing William Wallace due to his swearing on the fields of Stirling, where a punishment of twelve weeks was awarded, but dropped on appeal.
Sale has been impressing at all venues they have won at this season. With a competitive pack and girls more creative than Tony Blair’s press agent, they are starting to look the real deal. They may yet be the first team to be crowned real Champions with first in the league and Grand Final winners.
Any front row that has the monster that is Andrew Sheridan must be up for a bit of fun and frolics while breaking their opposition. With Sebastien Bruno and Andy Titterrell to select at hooker, they have pace and line-out stability from two internationals players that will provide edge and creativity. Stuart Turner should hold up the other corner of the scrum very well, the former Brizzle boy with an egg for a head. Sheridan versus Rautenbach will make even a nun moist!
The second row will again provide an excellent challenge for the in-form partnership of Casey and Kennedy, if the England wannabe is fit and up for it. The puma fella Ignacio Fernandez Lobbe may well be given the nod to muller his way forward and can form a seriously damaging set-piece partnership with England’s forgotten man Chris Jones. Christian Day, the young prospect from the English Las Vagas that is Blackpool, will be there or thereabouts when Andre puts pen to paper in the 4/5 column.
And now to the fecking cream of all battles that will take place come Saturday. This back row six are going to be at it from the off, this key area containing the subtlety of Ian Paisley celebrating the uprising of 1916 at the GPO in Dublin.
Chris Jones may well start here and will provide the extra jumper, not unlike Rochey for Irish, but will also provide pace in the lose. Scotland’s skipper, Jason White, will surely be a shoe-in and provides a tackle bigger than a porn star, but not in a homo way. Add Magnus Lund to the back row options, and Sale can show their strength in selection. Nathan Bonner-Evans may provide the 8 replacement for Chabal, and will still offer much on the deck, as well as in space. Magne, Leguizamon, Dawson, Murphy, Roche, Danaher and Thorpe will provide a three that must give it a fecking thrashing to compete.
At half-back, Sililo Martens and Charlie Hodgson will provide an excellent base to unleash their pacey girls. Martens has popped up with a few tries this season and is as sharp as a dykes tongue in and around rucks and mauls. Hodgson, unfairly blamed for England’s lacklustre six nations, is the best 10 in England on his day. Flutey and Hodgson will determine the game from boot and hand when given quick ball.
In the centres, again these fishy feckers boast a shedload of talent. Thank the feck that Elvis Seveali'i does not have the opportunity to leave the building and break Exile hearts as he did for Barf, as he is injured. Chris Mayor, the young League convert will be inline for a call, as will the evergreen former Lion, Mark Taylor. Robert Todd, a former London Irish man, may well find a place on the bench to cover for this combo.
Finally, and a fecking groan will be made when the back three is brought to light. Jason ‘Billy Whizz’ Robinson at fullback with Mark Cueto, one of the best finishers in World rugby and Steve Hanley on the wings must be the most formidable three in the league. All can finish from anywhere, and are all deadly given a smidge of a sniff of Irish line. Hanley and Cueto are like Laurel and Hardy/ Little and Large/ Mister and Missus as partners, with Hanley being a tad unfortunate in regards to national honours. The Irish back three will be learning some more against these feckers, but with Ojo, Tagicakibau and Armitage, LI too have pace to burn.
This could be the game we look to for morale and a glimpse into the Sharks fears.
Munster at Thomond Park shows that to beat this fine outfit, you must compete at every breakdown, set-piece and lose. First up tackles must be made, and there can be wins made through the centres if 9/10/12 fire well. The crowd must be vocal and get behind the fecking lads. Pace is key, but fear must not be shown.
Back in September, on a fast track, Sale gave our new squad a real fecking, 29-3. Brian Smith shrugged this defeat off stating that LI were mullered by a friggin’ awesome side. Smith has now moulded a great side that has been awesome away from the Madstad, being the best side in the league on their visits to other shores. This now needs to happen at home, especially in front of a large gathering with Sky throwing us a bone by actually attending one of our matches (three for the year now lads, fecking yahoo!).
London Irish are the form side in the premiership to date, but there are rock hard questions that will be fired at them come Saturday. Win this, and feck knows what can happen this season.
The craic will be mighty, and the away fans will be made to fell very welcome at our party. Now let’s get a win lads.
-- Master Scribe