Coiffeur,
While surfing "the 57 channels and there's nothin' on", had the misfortune to come across Pup's hair at half time in a T20 "Who Cares" World Cup game while he was in the Sydney analysis studio with Tubby.
The Channel Nine make up dept. have either gone completely mad, or he's been to Kevin Naiqama's barber, or dead set, it's a wig.
A kind of swept up arrangement to a top knot pigeon style, while looking like he had a small breaking wave perched on top if his head.
Cannot begin to describe the colour of it.
If you asked MJ Clarke to drop his dacks and let you check out his pubes, it's a certainty that it's not that colour, that's of course, unless he wears a merkin.
Pup strikes me as the merkin kind of guy.
Wasn't paying much attention to what he was being said, flabbergastered as you'd be with what was on display on the Crystal Bucket, but thinking Clarkey said Straya could win this one, but Pakitsan would probably win.
Straya won by ten runs.
Knows alot about T20, by all reports.
As the poor kid tries in apparent vain to find his post-retirement niche, his wife, [probs just calls her Kyly, or maybe Kiles Baby] has written a book.
Not mucking about or kidding you here - it is absolutely true.
After displaying her perfectly match-fit body just months after having a baby in The Magazines, Mrs MJ Clarke has written a b-o-o-k!
It's called True to You, and it's a collation of old sayings and mantra's about holistic living, how to make today the very best day you've ever lived in yr whole life, and welcome trips on living completely, and wholefood enema's and so on.
A mint condition 1st edition from Pan MacMillan is a genuine steal at just $24.95 rrp.
You can imagine the scene at Pan MacMillan's Editorial Board meeting when Pup comes in pitching the concept of a perfectly ghost-written autobiography, yes, about him, and them saying, ' oh,man, Pup, Clarkey, man, we've already ghostwritten three Captain's Diary's that, like, bombed for you and us, I mean man, this is tough to say, but jesus man, just forget about the autobiography, eh? Won't sell. But, maaate, if you could get your missus, mate, to put together some sort of lifestyle book, that would be a different story altogether".
Been reminded that about ten months ago, there was an ugly rumour going 'round that the football part of this blog fell apart at the seams - seemingly forever - but that's bullshit.
Haven't got the time to waste no more on week to week reporting, that's finished; but you can't stop the old professional sports journalist in me from telling it like it is, and speaking the truth.
So please forgive me.
The Swans start the season by giving Collinwood a million goal hiding as well as doing 25 behinds with a rattan cane.
South Melbourne plenty. The Wood's? Bugger all.
This, the day after 11 Collingwood players - a cricket team - were busted by the strand-of-a-single-head-hair test for taking "illicit substances" during the off season.
That's AFL Secret Code for "party drugs", and it seems the Magpies were having a mighty time over the summer.
Why not, when you can have a couple of brekky cones, just a touch of ice with yr beers over a long lunch, and then stuff cocaine up yr nose, arse, any ol' orifice will do, until the cows come home, while sipping on potent alcohol laced concotions?
What's not to like?
Problem is, when Easter comes, and you have to put all that away -- 'cos now it's business time -- is it any wonder you'd play like goastshit?
My Spy at The Ground and me always dream up new knicknames for first year players.
Papley brings Paspaley to mind, so he has to be "Pearl", Mills is simple. Just gotta be "Saw". But poor Hewitt by no fault of his own, as he probably would't know or be related to Lleyton - the biggest spoilt brat in world sport during the naughties - but unfortunately bears the same surname; so Hewitt's nickname would have to be "Pest".
All three youngsters can play, some better than others.
Then at the other end of the scale is Buddy.
At least he's learnt how to properly show his humanity on field - going from the unbridled joy at kicking a spectacular first goal of the season, to being the very picture of a man in a world of swirling pain, after getting a good knock to the shoulder.
Will be worth his contract money this year if he stays on the park and kicks them all the way to the Grand Final - and wins it for them - no pressure; honest, really.
Then Sydney give Carlton a good and proper ten goal lesson.
Mmm...bright start, to be sure.
The rugby league season was well under way by the time the AFL got around to it.
The Tigers won the first two games defying all the pundits who thought they were def wooden spooners, and then had the next three thieved off them - robbed blind by the Bamdord's.
On paper they look good.
Very good halves and five-eigths - the local kiddie Mitch Moses will turn into a superstar backliner in time, for mine.
A world class full-back in Tedesco.
Handy centres.
Solid pack.
And brick shithouses running both wings - fast.
They can even afford to "hide" Chris "The Try Scoring Freak" Lawrence in the second row, where he is starting to find a new spark in his football career, when everyone except the loyalist fan thought he was all washed up in the centres at the age of 27.
And The Best Leb in the Game is just back from pre-season injury.
It's a team that can score tries, kick well, and and can cement the brick wall in defence when necessary; its a very sinple game, that's all you need.
Or you could rue the last two seasons ruined by injury.
Coach Squeak Taylor has saved his own skin by giving them a Licence to Thrill, and yet the "Entertainers" don't make it to live free-to-air television until round six.
Go figure.
