It seems to have taken forever to get to the final of the Rugby World Cup and I’m pinning my hopes (and a small wager with a rugby-hating friend who trundled out the “it’s only a game” line after the 2007 quarter-final) on the All Blacks doing what they do so well: winning.
I had been feeling a little sorry for the French, being the target of so much ill will from the New Zealand rugby-loving public but after the nasty threats from French defensive coach Dave Ellis yesterday, I’m no longer feeling sympathetic.
Ellis has said a “crippling psychological impact should McCaw’s dodgy foot be – mysteriously – injured by a big French brute at Eden Park”.
When he was asked if France would try to limit McCaw’s time on the field he smiled and said: “I’d like to think so. McCaw is major player. Somebody will stand on his foot, no doubt.”
So this is how the French think they are going to take home the Webb Ellis Trophy? By dirty play? By setting out to injure an opposing player instead of setting out to play a better game of rugby?
I’m sure it was a relief to everyone when the world didn’t end on Friday. Except, of course, the wrinkly old bugger who keeps predicting the end of the world.
After his disastrous efforts in predicting the end of times back in March, 90-year-old Harold Camping had another crack at it, saying the March date was actually Judgment Day — “a spiritual moment when the righteous would be chosen” — and really a bit of a warm-up for the rapture, which is meant to happen five months after Judgment Day. That was October 21, which has been and gone and (brace yourselves): we’re still here.
Just in case ol’ Harry the Doomsayer decides to offer up another date any time soon, you might want to pop along to Rapture Ready to prepare yourself for the end of days.
Everyone has been up in arms about the awful story out of China today about a hit and run incident involving a toddler. And rightly so.
The little girl had wandered off from her mum and was knocked over by a van. The driver didn’t stop and, even more worryingly, neither did a dozen or so passersby. No, they all just wandered past the critically injured little girl, leaving her on the road.
Awful, truly awful. But are we any better?
Okay, so the “let’s ignore it” attitude might be slightly better disguised but were the actions of those who ignored that little girl any worse than those of the family members of the so many children beaten and abused in this country?
Every time a child dies at the hands of someone who should have cared for them, there is always at least one person who should have known what was happening.
I don’t think we can be tut-tutting and wringing our hands over what happened in China until we do better ourselves.
And yes, I know the video of the hit and run is available on the net but I have chosen not to link to it. It’s disturbing and if you really want to see it, I’m sure you know how to use Google.
Finally, there is going to be a judicial review of a judge’s decision to let a comedian away with no punishment for sexually assaulting his four-year-old daughter. This was a case that absolutely disgusted me for so many reasons: that a father could do that to his own child, that he could somehow think being drunk excused the behaviour and, most of all, that a judge could even suggest that his losing a a bit of work was so much worse that what he did to his little girl.
The “man” admitted his guilt so whether or not he was drunk wasn’t an issue, and his choice of career certainly should not have been an issue, either.
That he was discharged without conviction for a crime he admitted — a crime that is without doubt one of the most disgusting a father could commit — makes me both sad and angry.
Obviously, Judge Philippa Cunningham believed she her reasons for making that call back in August but it seems there isn’t a lot of support for her decision based on the fact that the father-of-the-year candidate (yes, that was sarcasm) had the ability to make people laugh.
“He’s a talented New Zealander. He makes people laugh, and laughter’s an incredible medicine that we all need a lot of.”
Stuff reports that Christine Rankin, a family commissioner, but speaking as a child advocate separate from her official position said the comedian may have been given credit for making people laugh, but the court’s decision to allow him to walk free without even a conviction “made people cry”.
We have far too many child victims in this country and surely the first step in reducing the number of children being abused, both sexually and physically, is to ensure they are treated fairly.
That little girl was sexually assaulted: her father’s career choice should have had no bearing on the outcome of the court case.
As much as I enjoy a good game of rugby, I’ve been a bit put out by some of the imbalances shown during this Rugby World Cup.
If you play for Samoa and wear a non-regulation mouth guard what happens? You get a bloody big fine (bearing in mind the team isn’t exactly flush with money).
Play for England and do dodgy things with the ball and what happens? You get a warning and a slap on the wrist. England can afford a $10,000 fine, Samoa certainly can’t.
Then there’s the behaviour of the England players and they have made their merry way around the country: the Queen’s grandson-in-law shoving his face in the cleavage of that chick in Queenstown and having a quick grope and a snog (and the subsequent lies the bent-nosed boofhead told, as well), the ferry jumping incident and the other arrogant shits from the same team who sexually harassed a young staff member at a Dunedin hotel. Because that’s what it was: sexual harassment. It wasn’t having a laugh or just a bit of fun, it was well over the line.
And now, finally, we hear that the sport’s governing body is investigating whether any members of the team breached the Rugby Football Union’s elite player agreement or code of conduct. Um, hello: nose in some sheila’s norks … surely that’s a breach of something? And let’s not forget that sexual harassment situation.
People have been sent home in disgrace from major world sporting events in the past for much less offensive behaviour.
But I guess it has been made very clear at this tournament, where the IRB has dictated that we couldn’t take an umbrella (or car parts) to the games and gave dire warnings of what would happen if we dared wear items advertising the sponsors’ competition, that keeping the sponsors happy is far more important than running a tidy, fair and safe tournament.
Most of us probably didn’t notice the advertising on the mouth guard that attracted the $10k fine. And most of us probably didn’t care. However, the ball tampering situation … that’s another story.
The likely looking group in the mugshots are the eight Amish men who fought the law. And the law won.
As you probably know, the Amish aren’t fans of anything modern, like cars. These hardened criminals in the photos didn’t stick orange safety triangle on their horse-drawn buggies, then refused to pay the fines.
Why? Well it seems their religion also bars them from wearing or displaying bright colours and, not surpisingly, the aforementioned safety triangle is a particulary bright shade of orange.
They were all jailed for their heinous crime but according to The Smoking Gun, the powers-that-be were kind enough to find them some dark coloured jumpsuits instead of the standard-issue coveralls.
I sort of admire the attitude of a Welsh great-grandmother who decided to buy herself a new set of boobies at the age of 65 but I think that perhaps she went a little overboard.
Joan Lloyd was widowed last year and decided it was time to treat herself to the new lady lumps, going from a somewhat miserly A cup to a positively frighteningly mountainous F cup.
As you can see in the photo, the lovely Joan now looks a little off balance and I’m sure the new fun-bags must be something of a health risk, increasing her chance of toppling over and breaking a hip.
As you can also see from the photo, Joan is a rather attractive woman who looks to be in bloody good repair for a woman of 65.
Except for those monstrous appendages she now has stuck on her ribcage.
Do the growing rates of dementia and this trend we now have for fake boobs and Viagra mean we’re going to have retirement villages full of oldies with big boobs and erect dangly bits but no memory of what the hell to do with them?
But I digress: congrats on your new boob Joan.
I guess at that size they’ll pull the wrinkles out of your face.
I live in the deep south of New Zealand, where smelly dairy cows are taking over from sheep in the livestock stakes. My hometown is the small but perfectly formed city of Invercargill, which is also the hometown of the original boy racer, Burt Munro. Find out more about me here.