English Premier League News
Brought to you by Fudge Hair Styling Products and Brett Lee Chunky Gold Chains Ltd
In Premier League news, perennial crap London side Tottenham Hotspur beat competition superpowers Chelsea at White Hart Lane in the Premiership for the first time since... ever. The last time Chelsea lost to Spurs, the Premier League was still a twinkle in Murdoch's eye, Paul Gascoigne was thin (relatively) and first division football was stacked with more mullets than a south coast fish co-op. It was 1990, time for the Guru. (That's Guru Josh not Eric Grothe). Many pundits have asked how this could possibly have happened - table-topping CFC falling to bottom-half Spurs, at the ground known to Blues fans as Three Point Lane. Who better to ask than Chelski Football Blub coach Jose Moaninho? Media besieged The Special One (aka Designer Stubble Man), who offered this explanation for the defeat:
"Tottenham scored two goals, and we only scored one."
That's why they pay him the big bucks, folks.
Melbourne Cup Report
Brought to you by Pedigree Pal and Clag Glue
Owners and connections of pre-race favourite Efficient apparently paid $153,000 to get their horsey a late start in yesterday's Big One. Not that Efficient at all, really. Particularly when the conveyance pulled up lamer than the Ronnie Johns Half Hour on race morning and had to be scratched. Short priced favourite on the NSW tote at race start was Metropolitan/Caulfield Cup double-winner and well-known typographical error Tawqeet, who responded to the favouritism by rarking up in the gates, then 'running' like he'd been fed on a diet of Rohypnol, cement, and Phillip Ruddock's speeches. The result at the end of 3200 metres was a musical 1-2 for Japan, with Nippon nag Delta Blues edging out stablemate Pop Rock. Some found the musical overtones of the two Japanese horses somewhat ironic given that Japanese music is utterly, utterly shit. However, more controversially, it appears that the result of this year's Cup has actually been foreshadowed in every album released by John Spencer's Blues Explosion in the past ten years. In an exclusive post-race interview, Spencer declared "The BLUES is STILL NUMBER ONE!" and staggered off to find some Colombian go-fast. If not some Horse. Ahem.
John Spencer (not to be confused with Don Spencer who sang 'Bob the Kelpie')
How to play the Blues Explosion Drinking Game*:
1. Go to one of their gigs.
2. Every time John Spencer randomly bellows "BLOOOOOZE EXPLOSION!!!", drink.
3. Fall over.
* Courtesy Jimmy and Deon from The D4
ICC Champions Trophy Results
Brought to you by Indian Sour Grapes
In a weekend where every and any green-and-gold outfit with an interest in oval-shaped balls made complete arses of themselves, it was blessed relief when Australia managed to win something... anything... even a tournament previously won by the New Zealand Black Caps... when they Windexed the Windies to claim the Champions Trophy, proving once again that the Poon-Tang Clan ain't nuthin' to fuck with. Australia had never before won the ICC's second tier trophy (pretty sloppy seconds at that), a fact which went completely unreported by all media outlets. Their cause was helped by the Windies batting lineup doing what they do best: going apeshit in the first 10 overs then disintegrating like Dubya's grasp on reality as the game progressed. Windies coach Bennett King, a man with two surnames and no first name, attributed their new-found flamboyance (as well as their traditional total lack of substance) to their new batting coach Col Apps. Apps joined the Windies coaching staff after many years refining the work of the Black Caps top order, and his work is still in evidence today.
Meanwhile, Indian media have launched into the canary yellow juggernaut for failing to show due deference to Indian cricket board president Fatcat Noseintrough on the winners' podium. The Australians, understandably and discreetly, shoved the spotlight-hogging glory-felcher off the dias in their haste to get their hands on the silverware, jump up and down for the cameras, then fuck off back to the dressing sheds for a coldie or twelve. This hasn't gone down well at all in India, with media and former greats taking every opportunity to pile into them. India's chief cricket selector Dilip Vengsarkar declared "You expect such behaviour from uneducated people. If they wanted to pose for photographs, they could have politely requested him. This is appalling." Sachin Tendulkar added: "I was not watching the proceedings but from what I heard, it was unpleasant and uncalled for." Which would make him highly qualified to comment, of course.
Fuck off out of the way you fat curry-munching bastard, this is OUR trophy
Former Indian captain Sunil Gavaskar, who was actually there at the time, waded into the verbals saying he was 'hurt' by the incident and was 'not amused' when an Australian player greeted the Indian board president with 'Hiya buddy'. (Anyone guess who that might have been, readers? Email your answers to the Symmo's A Fuckin Legend Competition care of the webshite you are now watching.) Gavaskar went on, and on: "Just receive it quietly. You are not in your country. In India, we respect our elders. Certain decorum has to be maintained, you have to show respect. Would they have done such a thing to their prime minister?"
You don't know Symmo that well, do you Sunny?
In completely and utterly unrelated news, tournament hosts India were an abject failure in their efforts to win the thing, getting pantsed by both Australia and the West Indies and only managing to avoid last in their group due to a marginally better run rate than the worst ODI side going around, England.
Willie Mason Judiciary Update
Brought to you by Ritalin, or the lack thereof
ADHD appears to be genetically related to the ability to talk total bollocks, judging by the efforts of Bulldogs enforcer W. Mason over the past few weeks. Having managed to piss off the entire nation of Aotearoa with his comments over Nathan Fien, Brent Webb and white guys doing the haka (to the point where one South Island columnist came out with the ultimate insult: "Willie, say what you like, but you're still an Aucklander"), he then came up with the judiciary defence to end them all when he was called up in front of the beak this week: self-defence. Having thrown the only punch in the fight. And having levelled his opponent with it. Oddly enough, while the excuse of pre-emptive self defence seems to work if you're the woefully incompetent Leader of the Free World (TM Fox News and Affiliates Inc), it doesn't if you're a rabid thug in a Kangaroos jumper - Willie won't play again before the final. One wonders if the best resolution would have been for Fielden to get the first punch in after all; the Pom might have got a lucky one in and busted his jaw, so we'd get at least a couple of weeks without having to listen to Willie's Wide World of Bollocks.
Pissed Bogan Alert
Brought to you by Cheap Wine and a Three-Day Goat
(what the hell were those bastards on about?)
The Weak's favourite story of the week is actually not made up at all. It concerns ChampCar series (the ones which do laps around the beer garden at the Gold Coast Indy) driver Paul Tracy, whose work The Weak has appreciated over many years. Many years of driving like a complete lunatic, barrelling sideways into turns, pulling off ludicrous passing moves, trashing cars into concrete walls, swearing in interviews, getting into punchups with other drivers, and generally throwing himself into top-flight open-wheeler racing like the ice hockey player he probably should have been.
Tracy tried to 'fit in' on his recent NASCAR debut by busting out a bit of circle work
The chunky Canuck has always brought a dash of NHL (and not a little WWF) to the Champ Car World Series; this Weak he's brought a little bit of Symmo as well. Tracy will miss the season-ending race in Mexico City after breaking his shoulder in training at home in Las Vegas. By 'in training', of course, we mean 'trying to jump a golf cart off a sand dune'. While being drunk as 40 bastards at the time.
Paul Tracy, the Weak salutes you.
The Doctor is OUT.
