Here is the man who wrecked the rugby world cup, referee Alain Rolland, wearing his jersey of choice. The French team were utter shite. Sam Warburton’s tackle seemed, at worst, a yellow card. We were robbed of victory by bad refereeing and some unlucky place kicking, but the French were dire and in no way deserve to be world cup finalists. A ludicrous refereeing decision by the half-witted, half-French ref.
But look at this crewage who stopped off for a fag outside the Yoga club opposite The Promised Land. Do they look as if they are here for the yoga? Do they give a fuck? Should I? Should we? What a day. Oh fallen hopes. Oh crushed dreams. Blanco is bereft.
one of your best blogs (they are all good)
I listened to the match while gardening – the birds were singing for Wales
later they sang with their usual sense of eternal chwarae teg.
As for the photograph — priceless! Imagine the kundalini heights, hatha twists and kama kalpa depths if that single point had veered one compass bearing a little further north west [by north]. As it is, U R right – – the whistle was in the wrong mouth.