oh errol

You kittens might remember that Sassy and Kiki were off to meet the Irish Wolfhounds on Friday. We considered just going to their official jersey presentation this Thursday to do our actual interviews, until we realised that we’d be passing up an opportunity to get drunk in the afternoon to get to know the team in an informal way as part of our research.

one of the many outfit options considered for the occasion

We set off for the Mona Vale golf club, and applied our make up in the carpark, much as we imagine Jana Wendt did in her heyday. We are such winners. And we suspect the Mona Vale staff are tres impressed by those vagrant go-getter journalist girls who live in a car.

We should also point out that we were the only women in a sea of about fifty men, which is much like what we imagine it feels to be the only gazelle in a pride of lions. Kiki wore high heels for approximately two minutes before popping back into the Rav to change into thongs, possibly to better run from the stalking lions.  But what can we say? These are the kinds of sacrifices we make for Errol. We’re like immersion journalists … or something. Just call us the Hunter S Thompsons of rugby league.

As for the Wolfhounds, let’s just say we think we’re on a winner here.  If not World Cup winners, then definite front-runners for the perviest team in the cup.  They are to football what Errol is to the world of journalism. Delightfully low-rent (economy class flights, anyone?), totally confused as to what they are sposed to be doing at what time and well … maybe a tiny little bit drunk.

High tech training techniques spur the Irish on to certain victory

We never thought we would meet people who could keep up to us in the sexual innuendo stakes but these boys put us to SHAME. AND! Just like us their perviness is charming and not at all offensive. Of course.

In the interests of full disclosure, we should admit that we weren’t in our finest form.  We’re not tactful ladies at the best of times, and Kiki in particular spends most days with her foot firmly lodged in her mouth, but the evening with the Wolfhounds was memorable even for us.  How about we review the top five foot-in-mouths to give you a general idea?  In no particular order:

1) Kiki loudly announces to the Blarney Army I’M GONNA GO CHANGE MY SHOES, I FEEL LIKE A DIRTY PROSSIE.

2) … sits down next to the team, a good 3-5 minutes after meeting them, and points out ‘you are all a lot more attractive than I expected. I thought you would be all withered, sunburnt and fug like the Irish backpackers that skeev around Bondi!’

3) .. decides to explain in detail the Oh Errol team’s patented ‘We Don’t Fuck Footy Players (except Hot Bitch Cooper if he ever offered)’ policy. In her defense the Irish had made the mistake of asking why Coops was the singular exception to this rule and she merely obliged with excruciating detail. We maintain they really did need to understand the intricate levels of his hotness OKAY?

4) … rants for a good 10 minutes about a certain ex NRL player who shall remain nameless being a complete douchebag without realising most of the table are his current Super League team mates.

5) … and finally, corners poor Pat Richards to ask “did you hear about Sonny Bill?!”  She felt his answer of “errr yes…of course I did” was her queue for a soliloquy detailing SBW, more about SBW, her feelings on SBW and the 100 reasons why he is a “complete and utter DOG”.  Pat just sat there smiling politely, clearly wishing he was elsewhere. Far, far away from Kiki and her rantings.

In summary?  Pretty much the usual Errol.  but fear not, we did get the answers to the questions on everyone’s lips about the Wolfhounds:

Yes, they are handsomer than you’d think.

Yes, they are almost all sunburnt.

Yes, they do drink cider.

Yes, Wayne Kerr is his real name.

And a ‘loose forward’ is actually some kind of lock. Which is disappointing, and not nearly as pervy as we’d hoped / it sounds.

Because we are journalistic renegades, we decided to to turn the tables and let the boys throw a few questions our way:

“Why are you here?”

“Are you wearing a wire? I think I should check.”

“What newspaper do you work for?”

“If you’re a journalist, where’s your little pen and paper?”

“If you’re journalists, why are you drinking?”

“So do you go for footballers then?”

“Where’s my ice?”  (seriously Wayne Kerr, we are not your waitresses!)

In general, the boys are positive about their upcoming matches.  The only people who seemed even vaguely worried about facing up to the Tongan and Samoan forward packs were the two non-footballers.  ’But … but have you seen Tonga?’ we cried.  ’THEY HAVE A 120KG 18-YEAR OLD!’  Our cautionary tales about the Islanders were met only with confused faces and the response ‘… but we are from Ireland’.  It’s cause Aussies don’t say the letter r, isn’t it?

They are also surprisingly artsy, and can fashion a fairly lifelike piece of human anatomy from a bbq dinner. We think the team in general seemed impressed by Sassy’s creative suggestions re: potato salad.

And the truth is, we’d love to give you some snark or some dirt on the Wolfhounds, but those bitches are just too likable.  If Sean Gleeson were in the NRL, he’d be a shoo-in for snuggliest man. We explained to him that in Australia he is known as a ‘ranga’, but technically is actually more of a ginger nut. He has the cutest smile ever, in case you’re wondering. Stevie Gibbons conducted probably the least confident auction in history, and it was awesome. How can you not love a man with the same name as Our All Time Super Idol Stevie Nicks?

If Michael McIllorum was a Yank he could make a tidy career as a Channing Tatum impersonator.  Karl Fitzpatrick won us over immediately with his greeting of ‘I didn’t think you were real! I thought ‘why would 4 girls from Australia be messagin me? I even deleted ya message! But here you are .. in 3D!’ And Wayne Kerr has enough charisma for about four men. Okay … make that five. Seriously, he is kind of amazing.

McIllorum happily particpates in Errol HQ’s Pants Off Friday

Oh yeah, and what about the football?  Right. Football. We could tell you everything the experts say, and we could make up some stuff about how the individual players have played in Super League – cause God knows we’ve never watched ESL in our lives – but wouldn’t you rather the truth? Truth is – they are damned awesome.

All of them. I know alot of people are getting behind the Pacific Island nations but we are unequivocally throwing all our support the Wolfhounds. Australia, be damned! (By the way almost the entire Kangaroo squad is made up of Dirty Queenslanders and we DON’T LOIKE IT. HMPH.)

We’ll be watching Ireland play Tonga on Monday night at Parramatta and we will bring you our reports on their game and the progress of their sunburn without fail.