The Six Nations is back. Here’s a load of stuff about Round 1 written in an irreverent way that you won’t see printed anywhere else.
Scotland are sodding amazing. This non-fake news made grown men cry. The Sweaties have got some really good players and are doing some great things in European club competitions but no one actually believed they’d get their shit together for the Six Nations. Murrayfield’s kilts were all a-twitch as Stuart Hogg scythed through for a second and even though Ireland battled back to retake the lead in the second half, the Jocks, led by the positively potent Leg Graidlaw, held their nerve and kicked two late penalties. It’s official: Scotland are amazing (buy your official t-shirts, mugs and reusable condoms here) and tickets to Ireland’s game against England at the end of March are decidedly cheaper. Feck. But you’ll always have Chicago though right?
England’s Franc wank
As Ben Te’o dived over to realise a dream he’s had ever since he signed for Worcester last year, England fans breathed easy. Unbeaten for a year? You wouldn’t have thought it; Eddie Jones’ men had looked pretty tame. The fact that Scott Spedding was dancing about like a titting All Black told you all you needed to know about the host’s lacklustre performance. Dylan Hartley, a man who hadn’t played competitive rugby for nearly two months, took the field and proceeded to play like a man who hadn’t played competitive rugby for nearly two months; England followed their leader diligently. One lineout was so unfathomably bad it really needed a press secretary to explain it. And general incompetence was spreading to the commentary box too. In a rare lapse, and using vernacular last heard from George (a girl) on Kirrin Island, Lawrence Dallaglio described England’s pack as ‘being duffed up’ by the French. Thanks Larry, he has all the best words.
France deserve credit for an improved performance but giving them it isn’t funny, so I won’t. They lined up fat man after fat man and it was only when Danny Care entered the fray with the ingenious idea of running around them rather than through them, that the men in white finally broke free. The role played by Jean-Marc Doussain in the closing minutes for England cannot be underestimated. Not only does he possess the game breaking speed of Claire Raynor, but he also spiralled a simply sumptuous missed touch, just when France needed him to do the fucking opposite. Care, George, Nowell, Haskell, Eubank Jr and Bercow should all start versus Wales… Wales, Eddie. You know, that small little country at the end of the M4. You’ll recognise it when you see it.
And what of Wales?
Meanwhile in Rome, JP Doyle was starting up a brand new club. The ‘We don’t like Sergio Parisse’ gang seems to have only one member (Lacey and Maxwell Keys didn’t seem too keen) and our plucky little whistle blowing Irishman gave it a really good induction. Time and again, big Serg’s cries went unheeded and Wales, with their new look XV (containing all the same players from the last 12 Six Nations) eventually made hay. Halfpenny kicked most of his points (this time without the aid of John Williams) and after 60 minutes of toiling like a one armed nurse on arse-wiping duty, the Taffs eventually found their gear. Warburton shone, Sam Davies looks as though he can play and if Liam Williams hadn’t fumbled the ball over the line, we’d be talking about our first ever 6N five pointer. Gonads. Still, there’s always next week. TTFN.