Irish must weed the Fortified Gardens
Now that the dream of a shiny ting in the Challenge Cup has been fecked right over dare hill, London Irish are now free to concentrate on the Black stuff Premiership title.Now hang a fecking dang. ‘Concentrate on the title’ me arse here lads, because that is pure pish in my eyes. No, not like pish in my eyes, but more ‘it's pish’, you know, in my view. I heard a lot of shoite spoken by some posh Reading feckers on Turdsday night, but dat little beaut took the friggin' biscuit, you know!
Anyhoo, I must get back to the match in hand. The lads now have two to play to complete the fixtures for this season, and both are away to teams in the lower reaches of the league, but with ambitions of HC next term. First up on Saturday are the Northampton Saints, and by feck this game will be harder than a teenager’s member fuelled with blue pills, armed with the ‘Best of Readers Wives’. This lot are just freakin' nails at their place.
Fortress Franklin's Gardens it has been, with all comers receiving a right good pounding from the hosts. Only the Newcastle Falcons have gone and snatched a most unlikely fecking win there this league campaign.
Of the current title contenders, only Barf have resisted defeat, having scrambled to a fortunate but priceless draw and can now hope that the Saintly ones continue with their disregard of the rest. The cherry and whites of Gloucester were the recent victims of this ravenous pack of title-shredding hounds, receiving a right royal humping without a point to show for endeavour.
I would imagine that Jim Mallinder and the team at Northampton will be pretty pumped at their return to the big time, after a brief time in the Nationals. They are established at 8th in the league with a real chance of grabbing a HC slot for next season. There may actually be two routes for them to the top table of European competition, with potentially 7th in the AG Premiership being enough if Bourgion win the Challenge Cup. The other way would obviously be to go and win the fecking ting themselves!
If either fits, then a return to a competition they won at Twickers against the might of Munster will be up there with any of the wettest of dreams.
They will also view this visit from the Exiles as a winnable game, after competing in all aspects of the previous contest, but coming up just short in Reading. A disputable penalty try was the friggin' difference in the end. A win on Saturday will go a long way in rectifying this result, but would also put some real fecking pressure on the Sorries for that important 7th slot.
They have a good dynamic and fecking confrontational pack that competes for all ball. In the second row, the Argentinean legend of 66 caps, Ignacio Fernandez Lobbe, Scottish international flanker, Scott Gray, and Tongan Prop, Soane Tonga'uiha, are just a few of the decorated international class units. I shouldn’t forget the ageless Lion, Tom Smith, either for feck sake!
In the girls, ex-Exiles in the form of Nils Mordt and Barry Everitt may be around to bite our arse. Sean Lamont is another class act that is proving to be on the road to recovery after one friggin' ouch of an injury.
Those mentioned above are a few of the Saints players that will cause damage and ask degree level questions of the Irish in defence and attack. For me, though, and these are purely my thoughts, so feck off if you don't agree, there are five main men that can take care of business.
5 Star Saintsman Watch
Euan Murray, the soon to be Lion and older brother of that little twat tennis player, Andy, is the real deal. He is a tighthead to be watched and admired, but not in a sickly Gary Glitter type weirdo way, as this will only offend and tend to fecking hurt you.
Euan’s hug buddy is the urban terrorist, and all round scary fecker, Dylan Hartley, who is just the man to ruin anybody's day. With a name that may float you away to that of writing poetry about fishing, this is a gainline player of epic proportions. A Dyson on a Subbuteo Rugby cloth couldn’t suck in any more players than this rough little Nugent, to get him stopped once he is up and running.
The back row is a right bunch of feckers, with their hairy hands, and rucking feet. Notable among this band of brothers is the fecker from Ulster, Neil Best. He is a prime example of a player that lives on the edge of the rugby laws as the fecking need of a Flanker. Oh, and this fecker can operate at open and blind side and be just as affective! He really loves the contact with the other male players, but not in a homo way.
Now, the laughing old dude always said that you have to be very mindful of any fecker called Bruce, because these barstewards are normally dangerous. Wayne and Lee are just a mere freakin' two great examples of this statement, and the other is Reihana. Jesus, the fella seems to be every-fecking-where on the field, and has even taken to dressing up in a scrum cap so he can hide with the fat lads too! He always has a strong game against the Irish and now the fecker has a faster mate.
Ben Foden is the Mr Versatility with a 9 – 15 dilemma, but what a friggin' player the young man is. Already he has burnt more grass than Hendrix with his pace, leading to try scoring opportunities a plenty for this dynamic side, but he has shown that he possesses strength too. This is the man Irish need to shackle to have any chance of victory, and do it well.
This is a real test, at the end of a hard season for London Irish. The smallest squad in the premiership has unearthed some real friggin' diamonds to cover for the call ups to England, and a continual stream of injuries. If they can replicate the strength in fecking character and focus displayed by Bianca Throater, the "Miss BJ Europe" in February 1965, and suck it up for this one, top four could be achieved. Any weakness shown to this Saints team, and HC will be the only treasure gained from a strong season under Toby.
By the fecking way, lads, I was just joshing about Euan being related to the socially stunted fecker, Andy Murray.
-- Master Scribe