The Idlere, Friday, June 21, 2019

Now or

never Down

Under

ONCE more unto the breach, dear friends …for us it's the Brumbies tomorrow down in Canberra, in Van Diemensland. The Bulls play the Wellington Hurricanes in the Land of the Long White Underpants.

And if the gods of rugby should so decree, it could be the Sharks against the Bulls in the semis. It's beyond analysis and conjecture. It's time to complete the Shakespearian rugby pep talk with which we began.

When the blast of war blows in our ears,

Then imitate the action of the tiger;

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,

Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;

Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;

Let pry through the portage of the head

Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it

As fearfully as doth a galled rock

O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,

Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.

Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,

Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit

To his full height …

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,

Straining upon the start. The game's afoot …

 

Yes, Shakespeare sure knew how to motivate a rugby side for a play-off. He's speaking to every one of the lads.

'Erewego, 'erewego, 'erewego!

 

 

A man's game

HERE'S something odd that arrives. It's a photocopy of an old Idler's column I don't remember putting together.

It consists largely of a lengthy poem extolling the manliness of rugby in days of yore, by comparison with today's game.

The rugby balls in my day, lad, were made of bloody leather,

A bladder stitched with laces was to hold the bastard together.

The outside today has adverts on in supersonic plastic,

They'll reach the sticks from miles away, toe-poked by any spastic …

It carries on in this vein, to end:

We made a try, we saved a try, we played on through the pain,

And crippled, cursing, bleeding – we loved the bloody game …

No, I don't remember assembling this. And when I look at the Tailpiece, it definitely could not have been me.

"Are you a boobs man or a butt man?"

"That's really sexist!"

"Sorry, let me rephrase it: Are you a boobs person or a butt person?"

Ha ha … er, that's disgraceful. I would never have chosen it. A blonde lady of my acquaintance boxes my ears at the slightest hint of sexism.

The photocopy comes from a fellow named Dave Goudie, who says he's been reading the Idler's column for 40 years and is dismayed by my support for the Sharks. He quotes the dictum of his pal, "Red": "Men support the Blue Bulls and Liverpool. The rest support the Sharks and Man United."

I gather that Dave, Red and rest of the Blue Bulls supporters meet regularly in a telephone booth on the beachfront.

But here's an odd thing. As outlined above, the Bulls and the Sharks are in the quarter-finals. They could meet in the semis – maybe even the final.

Duim vashou! And in that case we'll moider da bums! Sorry Dave, Red and the rest of the guys in the telephone booth.

 

Tailpiece

 

THIS fellow and his wife are on the verge of splitting up because of his obsession with rugby. They've decided to give it one last try.

Last word

 

The worst sin toward our fellow creatures is not to hate them, but to be indifferent to them: that's the essence of inhumanity. - George Bernard Shaw