Sheila Shag is putting my suitcase together for next month’s Coupe Mondiale. She grumbled about whether I really need 56 pairs of grundies, until I pointed out the food fracas with Suzie in South Africa. If the bastards can get at your coffee, there’s every chance they’ll slip in a bit of extra starch on the underwear when you send it out to the laundry. I don’t want any netherworld distraction when I’m trying to concentrate on the rhythm.
Meanwhile I’m putting together the plans to pop across the ditch and give Girt By Sea a bit of a tickle up on the weekend. By crikey that Cheika fella likes to play loud and fast, doesn’t he? Not a lot of finesse, just take it up the guts and never mind the conductor. That’s a fair plan of attack when it comes to dealing with a spread of Maketu Pepper Steak and burping juice, but it’s likely to be a bloody shambles when it comes to impressing the judges.
Yours in sweatpants