Thursday, November 4, 2010

He's Gotta Go - No Love For Pup

Go now, get outta here.  Yes you, the grimacing twat just below.  Before you leave, introduce yourself.

"Hi. I'm Pup.  I like being a crap captain, losing,  fashion, crap tattoos, hair product and not sticking up for my team mates.  But most of all I really enjoy spitting dummies and being a shallow prima donna with an overblown sense of self importance.  I don't like Simon Katich because he picks on me.  Now piss off, I have an appointment with my ear wax sculptor."

Michael Clark aka "Pup". 'Nuff said really.  For those who don't know who he is just think of a cricketer who's basing his life on David Beckham but with none of the talent,  Spice Girls or galactic scale paychecks.  I also think Alan Jones likes him which for me is the clincher.

He might like Michael Clarke

 His depth of character is measured in microns.  As a leader he's useless, as a tactician he's worse than DADS Ponting and as a team mate he gets his head smacked against the change room wall.  Funny thing is though that before he started his fashion shoots and stopped hanging out with Warnie he was made a project by Cricket Australia to be the heir apparent to Ponting's captaincy and by jingies that's starting to look like a "Let's Invade Russia" decision.  I reckon the sooner he becomes a crack whore in a trailer park outside of Dubbo the better.  I spent half of last night ranting at the plasma screens down at The Office pub and the other half drinking to forget that Clarke's in the team and is in charge a lot of the time.  This morning I had the Thousand Yard Stare.  Well that's bollocks really, it was just a fuck-off hangover and I blame Clarke.  He's the arse sitting on top of the biggest arse mountain in the Arse Mountain Range on Planet Arse, in the Arse Galaxy of the Arse Universe. Someone please tell him to go to Lichtenstein and sell stamps for the rest of his life.  But enough about him.

If you don't wanna read about something pretty fucking icky involving a man and a dog then hit the escape key right now.

You're still looking.  Oh well, here you go.

Now for the second bit of "pup" love.  For those who didn't know, a Rugby League player has been caught out having his dog, um, how do I put this?  (blunt is good Therbs),  provide some oral relief on the footy player's cock. Joel Monaghan is the chap's name, Canberra Raiders is the team he plays for and I'd suggest he's in the biggest world of shame right now. Probably bigger than Michael Clarke's Arse Mountain. Thing is I just hope he doesn't opt out in a permanent way 'cos that would just add to the hurt already there.

 And I'm not going to pimp the photo either.  Its 'orrible.  More gut churning than the other two I've put in here. So for "Pup" Clarke and Joel Monaghan, and what the hell, for Alan Jones too,  this had to be the one.  Ladies and gennulmen, live here in Therbs Bar, the one and only Mr Paul Anka.  Good night and enjoy your evenings and remember, it may have been a dog of a day but for someone else it was a real bitch. Take it away Paul!


  1. Short of offing himself, immediate and permanent withdrawal to a country that knows fuck all about rugby league might be Monaghan's best move. So England then.

    As to Pup - he's a spectacularly useless cunt and the only possible thing in his favour at the minute is the proposing of serial failure Norcus Marth as replacement captain. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure Marth would be a good batsman, so long as he stops pretending to bat left handed to give the others a chance.

  2. Thank you, Therbs, for not posting any pics of that. I'm fresh out of eye bleach.

    Now, I understand that young people and athletes do some odd things. This one, however, goes waaaaay past 'ok, that's kind of funny' to 'You need some help.'