St Paddy’s Day Massacre?
Well a happy Saint Patrick’s Day to all those Irish men and women amongst us, as well as you fecking Plastics.So lads, another big freakin’ day at the Madstad come the nearest Sunday to the 17th of March, with huge attention from both a vast crowd and the watching Sky cameras.
To help the Not-Not’s celebrate this years Irish day of days, the opposition comes in the mighty form of Thames Valley rivals and fellow Not-Not’s, London Wasps. What a fecking team to be paired with when attempting to break the Paddy’s Day curse.
Still, a team that most would have picked for the occasion; former Triple English Champs and Kings of Europe!
Ah, and the Exiles have faired as well against the Pests as that achieved by Jocks at Culloden. London Irish have one win from what has felt like the last fifty odd previous meetings, all be it by a fecking whopping 56-37 last term, a day that lives with all that made the visit, especially with the Gay Disco afforded to them.
This match-up will also offer the Odd shaped Ball Eejits a real opportunity to see for their own eyes, the team they will follow once they finally make good their threats of ‘fecking off up the M4 to Wycombe’ when the Proddie with his magic flute treads a similar route.
That day will come and be marked with much beverage and song, accompanied by the Craip drums. BrainlessC will be beside himself with delight and may even get Big Andy to queue for his swillage! These words will drift through the grimy streets of Reading with laughter and joy:
Down in Thames Valley tonight
There’s a man in the shadows with a tear in his eye
And a flute shining oh so bright
There’s Magners at the bar and cameras in from Sky
And a Waspies on the Reading streets
And down in the tunnel where the players are rising
Oh I swear I saw an Exile
Down there and gutted
He was starting to foam in the heat
Oh Flutey you’re the only thing in this whole world
That’s pure and good and right
And wherever you are and wherever you go
There’s always gonna be some light
But please don’t get out
Don’t break it out now
Before your final craic with John
So we gotta make the most of our last night together
When it’s over you know
At Pests you won’t be alone
Like a rat out of hell
I’ll be gone when the May time comes
When the Flutey is over
Like a rat out of hell, I’ll be gone, gone, gone
Like a rat out of hell, I’ll be gone when the May time comes
When May is done
And the sun goes down
Adams Park comes shining through
Then like the sinners before the gates of heaven
Eejits will be fecking off up there with you
I’m fecking up the M4 like a battering ram
With my solid black mammer dyke
Where the weather is hotter and the players are hungry
And we’re all about to see the light
Nothing ever grows in this Odd Shaped hole
And trophies are stunted and lost
And nothing really rocks
And nothing really rolls
And nothing’s ever worth the cost
And I know that I’m damned if I never get out
And maybe I’m damned if I do
But with any other beat I got left in my heart
You know I’d rather be damned with you
If I gotta be damned you know I wanna be damned
Dancing as a Wasp tonight with you
If I gotta be damned, you know I wanna be damned
Gotta be damned, you know I wanna be damned
If I gotta be damned, you know I wanna be damned
Dancing as a Wasp
Dancing as a Wasp
Dancing as a Wasp tonight with you
Oh, Flutey you’re the only thing in this whole world
That’s pure and good and right
And wherever you are and wherever you go
There’s always gonna be some light
But please don’t get out
Don’t break it out now
Before your final craic with John
So we gotta make the most of our last night together
When its over you know
At Pests you won’t be alone
Like a rat out of hell
I’ll be gone when the May time comes
When the Flutey is over
Like a rat out of hell, I’ll be gone, gone, gone
Like a rat out of hell, I’ll be gone when the May time comes
When May is done
And the sun goes down
Adams Park comes shining through
Then like a sinner before the gates of heaven
Eejits will be fecking off up there with you
Then like a sinner before the gates of heaven
Eejits will be fecking off up there with you
I can see ourselves
Fecking off up to Wycombe
Faster than any Exile has ever gone
And Old Dude’s skin is rough but his soul is ripe
And no one’s gonna stop us now
We can make our escape
But I can’t stop thinking of you
And I never see the Big Balls swerve until its way too late
Then Username sees the sudden curve but its way too late
Then I’m dying on the bottom of a pit with Uri’s mum
Torn and twisted at the foot of a Wiltshire Mick
And I think Up and Under must be tolling a bell
And the last thing I see is my heart
Still beating
Being ripped out of my body
By Baldrick who is flying away
Like a rat out of hell
Then I’m dying on the bottom of a pit with Uri’s mum
Torn and twisted at the foot of a Wiltshire Mick
And I think Up and Under must be tolling a bell
And the last thing I see is my heart
Still beating
Still beating
Being ripped out of my body
By Baldrick who is flying away
Like a rat out of hell
Like a rat out of hell
The medal-ladened feckers from Wycombe, who would no longer look out of place at any Cenotaph in November, are still well in touch with the business end of the AG Premiership. They are sitting a wee bit tastily in fourth with 51 points from their eighteen games.
This haul of points is a mere three behind the second placed Gloucester outfit, and the promised land of a homer come the play-offs, are a sniff and a cheeky lick away.
Even with the heart friggin’ ripped from their pack and class plucked from their gurls, having endured a rape and pillage Viking style raid by three coaches and a beast, their form has been reasonably good. Good enough in fact to take three wins, a fecking entertaining Wuss draw and just a loss in the last five.
The pack, though, has to be the real freakin’ area to try and exploit as much as an Asian seamstress. In the front row alone Tim Payne and Raphael Ibanez will be playing for their countries come Saturday, and Phil Vickery is out having been assaulted by Jason Hobson of Brizzle.
Tom Palmer, who is having as big a campaign as the one Jesus Christ had in his debut season for the Jerusalem XV in the year 0, will be shaking hands with the Taffs.
In the back row, Tom Rees, fresh from his fecking huge game against the French and the also impressive Joe Worsley are also making their way to Cardiff. It could get worse if James Haskell gets the nod in place of Nick Easter, the Hairy Quim nursing his back at present.
Add Eoin Redden, now in the Ireland squad for the trip to Rome on St Patrick’s Day and a wounded former Exile in the form of Paul Sackey, and Brian Smith needs to set his sights on an unlikely victory, given the history.
Now, the power of threes have to be given a gander and delivered R-E-S-P-E-C-T; respect, sock it to me. The back three are dangerous runners and tend to burn up more fields than Pol Pot.
Mark Van Gisbergen in the full back role is a fine rugby man, and great under the pressures afforded to any 15. Tom Voyce is just one of those feckers that rides more tackles than an Amsterdam window dweller, and always seems to bag a few against the Irish. Josh Lewsey, returning having been dropped after an uncharacteristic poor showing for England, is World class.
The back row trio all have black belts in the darkest of fecking arts, and will compete at every contact area, led by the legendary Lawrence Dallaglio. Love him, or loathe, the man is a born winner, with a World class ability to slow the fastest of ball just by raising an eyebrow.
Jonny O'Connor, allegedly Connacht bound come the season end, is pure nightmare material along the lines of Freddie Kruger. If James Haskell fails to impact on the England squad, he will look to suckle on the underbelly of Irish hospitality before issuing a right beefy banging session, but not in a homo way.
With experienced heads elsewhere to dictate the pace of the play in the likes of Alex King, any ball won will be used, and with 6-8 sniffing more than a Labrador at a dog’s ass fest, ball will be won.
Ali McKenzie, Joe Ward, Nick Adams and Peter Bracken will be the lads selected to compete in the fat feckers arena, and all will battle hard. Dan Leo may well find his way into the second row, but what a player he is.
Fraser Waters is another top star performer who will make things sticky in the midfield, and may be partnered by either the hunka-chunka burning love in the awesome power of Ayoola Erinle, or even the soon to be London Irish fella, Jeremy Staunton.
London Irish, for their wee part in this friggin’ Derby, should be looking forward to this fecker. Four wins in the league on the bounce and Sorries up after this little beauty. Eight points adrift of their visitors, but with a game in hand certainly opens up the season’s goals quite nicely.
There is very little to choose from on the league stats with identical win/loss columns, with the difference being on the bonus point’s areas. It is a game that is there for the taking, but requires as much fecking effort as that afforded to keeping Brizzle at bay with 14 men.
The pack need to grunt as deeply as a porn star on enhancement pills and really bully their way forward. Get on top in the set piece and loose, and a win can be bagged.
--Master Scribe