Interesting fact. The wooden spoon has its attractions: the two worst-performed teams in Australia's major footy codes have produced players with the most productive individual seasons of the year. The mighty South Sydney RabbitOhChristWe'reLosingAgainFuckIt had a frankly hopeless season under Bomber McRae, who was doomed the moment he shaved off his awesome 80s mo', but their kickarse winger Nathan Merritt scored 22 tries in 24 potential games (you can tell I haven't even been arsed to check whether he actually played all two dozen possible matches), more than any other player in the comp. Further southward, fellow wooden-spoon artistes the Carlton Football Club, who I'm reliably informed are at least as bad as the produce of the beer factory that shares its name, have this guy called Brendan Favola or Crunchy Granola or some shit like that who kicked a goal 84 times in the regular season - and that doesn't even count the times he missed but got a point for at least having a go. In a bid to get more athleticism into their lineup next year, the team have announced they intend to recruit from within the organisation, drafting that bloke from the Carlton Draught Flashbeer ad. Geddit? Draft?
I did say it was interesting, not funny.
Dummy Spit Of The Weak (Warranted)
...goes to a Mr Eldrick Woods, c/- Press Conference Room, The K Club, County Kildare, Oyrelarnd, for his mission-critical sense-of-humour failure over a Dublin tabloid suggesting his lovely Sveedish wife got her funbags out for the camera, and worse (or better, if you're into that sort of thing), as part of a general slagging-off of the American team's trophy wives prior to the Ryder Cup. When the English footballers were copping the same treatment over their vacuous shopaholic bimbo division of significant others in Germany, they just shrugged, ignored the media chatter, and got on with the job they were there to do - failing to win the World Cup. The Seppos, however, are used to more compliant media, so when this hit the presses, Tigger hit the Tanty Button, declaring his wife had been 'a model prior' and had done a few 'bikini shots' but had never had anything to do with the magazine's assertion that Elin had, in the immortal words of Austen Tayshus, 'seen a cockatoo' and been videoed in the process. A pretty lousy thing to say about someone's missus. Unless you're Warney in which case you'll get a fucking PhD for it. So Woods' outburst was at least warranted. If factually inaccurate. Purely for research purposes The Weak has investigated these scurrilous rumours, and provides the following as photographic evidence:
To wit, a photo of Elin Woods. Topless. Not a stand-in, not a fake. Elin Woods. Funbags akimbo. What was that again, Tigster?
Of course there were other photos that were fakes and did use stand-ins... but we couldn't possibly comment on those and they are best discussed on other websites.
Dummy Spit Of The Weak (Completely Unwarranted)
...a.k.a. the Llittle Lleyton Perpetual Pacifier, and for good reason. The embarrassing little shit, fresh from being voted in Argentina's top five all-time hated sportspeople (finally, something we have in common with the Falklands-invading dagos), has taken to parading around Buenos Aires in the leadup to the Big Davis Cup Stoush this weekend surrounded by hired muscle, declaring that he considers himself at risk from physical harm at the hands of the Argies. If he'd seen five minutes of any World Cup game they played in Germany, he'd realise he was in very little personal danger; the moment he brushed past them they'd fling themselves on the floor and convulse hideously like they'd been shot in the arse with a BB gun.
Llittle with his goons, making him feel like a Big Man, instead of a snivelling little Crows supporting bitch whose vacuous trophy wife appeared in something far worse than girl-on-girl porn - several seasons of Home and Away
There seems there's something else we have in common with the Argies: guerrilla TV comedy shows which seek out examples of pathetic self-promotion and deflate it like a whoopee cushion. This was demonstrated by the local Argentine equivalent of The Chaser sending their ballsiest interviewer out to crash Hewitt's entourage, and succeeded in not only making Hewitt look a complete arse at the time, but inspired the South Australian (OK, that's enough insults) to do so on his own terms in a later interview, blasting the guy for being 'some clown' and suggesting 'you just don't know what his intent might be'.
Son, you know exactly what his intent was: to point out what a precious little arseclown you are. If we lose, don't come home.
Not so Top(s) Gear
And speaking of great TV shows... we can't let the Weak pass by without sending a shout-out to the shiniest teeth on television, Top Gear's resident midget Richard Hammond. The Hamster was going for the British land speed record in a jet-powered dragster on the runway of a disused RAF base (seriously, the government broadcaster pays for this shit as well - awesome!) when the fucker flipped on him and things went all kinds of ugly. Hammond's in intensive care in a Leeds hospital; his condition has improved from critical to stable, though the consistent references to 'neurological department' are a bit concerning. From all at the Weak we hope a speedy recovery is both possible, and forthcoming.
The Doctor is OUT.
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