Memorial Stadium: Come ‘ere my luver, Where the feck are ya?
Jesus now lads, London Irish are playing another fecking game in the Premiership, two weeks on the bog trot! This friggin’ Six Nations distraction is becoming a ruinous distraction from the real blood and thunder of the elite club circuit, even after the mighty Croker mullering of a mere two Saturdays previous.Next up for the Exiles comes as stern a task as any, even up there with scrubbing your Gran’s back on bath night. The riotous form of Bristol Rugby, on their own patch, can lead grown men of fat fecker proportions in to a state of confusion, neigh, delirium when asked one of two questions.
1. How do you reckon your lads would fair?
2. How the feck do you get to the Memorial Stadium from Bristol Templemeads?
Both of these beauties had the Laughing Old Dude both urinating due to the chuckle bubs getting a real banging, as well as leading to fine beverage and song in The Engineer. Made I laff too as the words spewed from his toothless kisser.
Is it near Southmead
Caught on the Eastside
No escape from Chipping Sodbury
Open your eyes
Look out for the pies and mead
I’m not from Brizzle, I need some sympathy
Because it’s easy out, fecking no
Always high, never low
Anyway near Filton, Gloucester doesn’t matter to me
To me
Muller Road, where are ya man
Sounded easy in my head
Drank a Strongbow, now I’m fecked
Muller Road, day had just begun
But now I’ve gone and pissed it all away
Muller Road, Ooooo
Didn’t mean to start to cry
If I’m not back again this time tomorrow
Carry on, carry on, as if directions really matter
Too late, the game has gone
Found the Wellie at closing time
Body’s aching due to wine
Goodbye everybody, I’ve got to go
Gotta leave you all behind to face the train
Muller Road, Ooooo (By the way the Wreck blows)
I don’t want to cry
Don’t even know the fecking score at all
I see a massive silhouetto of a man
OneEyedJack, OneEyedJack will you let the sad man go
Thunder, White Lightning, very, very frightening to me
Ah Deano, Ah Deano
Ah Deano, Ah Deano
Ah Deano - Big Dave - Pedooooo
But I’m just a bog feck, nobody loves me
He’s just a bog feck from the LI family
Spare him his life from the fecking monastery
Rugby ball, gives a go, will you let me throw
Znoober! No! We will not let you throw
Let him throw!
Znoober! We will not let you throw
Let him throw!
Znoober! We will not let you throw
Let me throw!
We will not let you throw
Let me throw!
We will not let you throw
Let me throw!
No, no, no, no, no, no, no!
Elegia, Elegia, Elegia, let me throw
WilliamBlessing is a devil put inside of me, of me, of me
So you think you have won me when you look in my eye
So you think you can love me and leave me to cry
Oh Memnoch, can’t do this to me Memnoch
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here
Directions never matter
Any feck can see
Directions never matter
Directions never matter to me
By the way the Wreck blows...
Ah anyway, that was last year.
The pre-season relegation favourites have given a right Royal boner to all tipsters this season, and have proven to be THE team to beat. They started after the longest pre-season since the 1946 Footie First Division campaign, and hit the straps harder than the World Strap Hitting Champion, Jock McStrap.
Being unbeaten in their first five outings, including a remarkable win at the Madstad over London Irish, really propelled Richard Hill’s chargers under the scrutiny of the visually impaired feckers of Hinge and Bracket. Their fitness gained from a real mullering during the summer was best highlighted by the second half display in Reading, and quashed any ‘Dad’s Army’ labelling of their 140 year old front row.
Although the wheels seemed to have fallen off a tad after a Hairy Quims mare and fecking Pests mullering, they will see this Saturday’s fixture as a right fecking chance to get back on track. Brian Smith needs to make sure that LI focus on the task in hand, as this friggin’ West Country side are still sat pretty in second spot and chasing a home play-off slot.
A mere four games lost during the preceding sixteen games fails to tell the truth on the fecking improvements made throughout this well drilled outfit. The stripes may have been replaced, but the forwards still hold true the friggin’ Bristol traditions of a rumbling fat fecker powered nightmare, only bettered by Vanessa Feltz.
The home win over archrivals, county border sharing and fellow lovely big breasted female followings, Gloucester on a mean evening will proxy this as a vote on this power.
The home side were down by a point but with feck all on the clock to play with, when the fat lads went through what seemed sixty friggin’ plus phases of raw but controlled power. Ground was made before Jason Strange popped a drop to claim a famous win, and start a party not seen since the Clifton Bridge dropped its toll charge for an hour.
The London Irish front row, severely under resourced, will need to be a brutal as Harold Shipman with pensioners come contact at the weekend. This is not to say the Dr Evil will be providing the elders of Dave Hilton, Mark Regan and Darren Crompton with a wee dram of diamorphine prior to kick off, by the fecking way.
The difference between the sides on paper is minimum, with similar try counts both for and against, the real swinger is that of a Hilly spirit to grind out wins when under pressure from allcomers. The fight within all these feckers is on a par with a Man U fan, having found his sister taking it from a Leeds fella.
The loss of the inspirational leadership in the most underrated Premiership player and meaty mentalist, Matt Salter has been as big as Tesco’s petrol bill. Dan Ward-Smith, the future England starlet, is another notable AWOL fecker, who has been churning up more turf than a spanking new Zunhammer.
These are two figures that may give a glint of hope to the visitors to compete at the breakdown, although Joe El Abd, Nathan Budgett and former unsaintly one, Andrew Blowers will be chomping more bits than a professional bit chomper to feck this notion. Blowers, especially, loves the tight, big tackles and contact, but not in a homo way.
Sean Hohneck, allegedly named after a Swedish deep throater, has started to form a Chubb level lockmanship with the ever durable Gareth Llewellyn, so another battle is on the fecking boil for the piece.
This is still a mighty pack that may, as pundits seem to feel, be feeling the strain as far as the length of the season goes, but come the whistle on Saturday will feel ready to ruck and fecking maul their way to four points.
In the backs, the loss of Shaun Perry to the England bench for the French game is as huge a blow to the Brizlle game plan as Salter/Ward-Smith. Brian O'Riordan is a fecking handful, but the Perry-meister is fast becoming the scrummie to watch, with his awesome pass off either hand, as well as a turn of speed that finds gaps in any defence.
Inside at 10, the key may also lie in the availability of David Hill, the awesome Kiwi signing. He has a real rugby brain that keeps all opposition guessing more than Jade Goodie on mastermind. Jason Strange is a great kicker, but less explosive in the unlocking of tight defences.
Neil Brew and Rob Higgitt may well be the combo to attack the Catt-less Irish midfield and will ask rock hard questions of their opposite numbers. With the likes of David Lemi, the Samoan who can turn more tricks than a Kings Cross rent boy, and the more direct Lee Robinson on the wings, then Brizzle can also strike out wide.
For London Irish, there is a real opportunity to continue the fecking awesome run of form, and make it four league wins on the bounce. After the shocking display at Sorries, the Exiles have recorded wins over Bath, Sale and a real fecking mullering of the Falcons.
England has claimed Captain Catt and Geraghty, and best of luck to the pair, but is there excellence to fill these vital areas. To claim an unlikely victory come the weekend, the fat feckers need to shake off the wounds and get stuck in every part of the paddock. As close to parity come set piece and in the loose could allow the dangerous runners to claim a valuable away day.
This will be a belter and those travelling will enjoy the game, occasion and some of the best home fans in the Premiership.
0-0 then!
--Master Scribe