simon stitch-up says

The GM strikes again...

2011-10-11T14:12:00.000-07:00

A little side note to RWC cup action and it seems like the millions of taxpayer money that was spent on upgrading Mt Eden prison really have paid off....

Three years ago we covered the tale of this puzzling young fella - a ginger haired maori - who managed to escape from Mt Eden prison in the most renegade of ways - by going super old school and making a bad-ass rope out of sheets and simply abseiling down the prison wall.

Well on Monday he did it again, this time he managed to construct a motorised glider made out of on paperclips, newspaper, a bottle of jiff and his trusty swiss army knife. My inside contacts have reported to me he managed to fly from the prison wall all the way down to the viaduct where he was met by an evil swiss billionaire on a luxury yacht.*

Despite being somewhat mortified by the apparent ease of his escape three years ago, I ultimately decided that the manner of his escape essentially gifted him a "get out of jail free" card so to speak. I mean anyone that escapes from prison using a rope made of knotted sheets should be allowed to walk free.

This time I am mortified that a guy who looks about as intelligent as cow shit that's been run over by a quad bike and left to dry in a hot summers day (you know, it goes all white on the edges?) has been able to escape from the same fucking prison even after it's supposedly gone through a multi million dollar upgrade.

Welcome to New Zealand. Where you get paid by the government to have kids, six months in jail after you beat them up, and put in prison where you can walk out the front door in three.

Now that's a stitch up.

*note: may or may not be true

The World Cup shits

2011-10-10T13:09:00.001-07:00

Okay so before I get back to the best ever Rugby World Cup analysis in southern Parnell, time to do a little housekeeping and digest a few things that are giving me the figurative shits...

Corey Jane and Israel Dagg spotted sinking some diesel?

Okay I'm not exactly annoyed about the thought of All Blacks drinking beer during the World Cup. In fact, there is nothing physically wrong with it provided nobody is getting shitfaced and I am all for having moments where players can step away from the intense scrutiny and pressure and just chill out.

What I don't for the life of me understand is this.

1) If you are an All Black you have just seen first hand Zac Guildford getting absolutely media butt-raped over "Brsibanegate"
2) Given the fact that you are part of a team playing a World Cup at home that has perennially choked and under-performed and are massive favourites to win, you have to, JUST HAVE TO know that if you get seen doing anything where the mere notion of said activity is counter-productive to winning the World Cup you are going to be bent over in the aforementioned Guildford style
3) You get paid a lot of money, in fact WAYYYY too much money relative to how good you are as athletes so why not just get someone to buy you a box of beers from the supermarket and drink them at home, at a friends house in a hotel room behind closed doors wherever - just not Takapuna of all places. Corey Jane you are married with kids so just what attraction does Takapuna have for someone like you anyway?

4) If the All Blacks have a zero alcohol policy then surely, ssuuuurrreeeellllyyy you can just hold off another three weeks until the World Cup is over and I'm sure you will then have a pretty long leash. I mean seriously was drinking beer that important? Really?

It just goes to show that these guys might be able to pull a "mean" sidestep but they still don't have much usual intelligence than a primary school kid - and we are banking on these guys to win us a World Cup?

England just here for a laugh?

England proved that they really were here just for a laugh. Here are the top English highlights from the Rugby World Cup 2011..

1) Bungey jumping in Queenstown.
2) Mike Tindall rubbing his ugly grill on some gross peroxided Kiwi skanks fat rack and machine-gunning her in a seedy pub dunny.
3) Manu Tuilagi doing a mangere off the side of the Waiheke Island ferry and thus proving once and for all that you can take an, um, Islander out of South Auckland but you will never take South Auckland out of an Islander.

Aren't you glad that you didn't fork out your hard earned cash to come over to New Zealand to support this bunch of overpaid twits who call themselves proud Englishmen? Me - I'm just glad I don't live in England...

All Blacks injury toll?

Right, so what does the All Black injury toll mean? Is it...

1) They have just been incredibly unlucky and in the wrong place at the wrong time?
2) They are old and can't handle the "tough" modern game?
3) Training is so brutal as an All Black that this sort of shit happens?
4) The preparation has been poor and incomplete?
5) Because the players don't play every game in the same positions anymore they aren't completely match hardened and match fit like they should be, thus injuries like Daniel Carters (sustained during goal kicking practice of all things) are more likely to happen. Because it is funny how a lot of things in life are actually counter-intuitive (like play MORE rugby get LESS injured as opposed to play LESS rugby get MORE injured).

Before any "experts" completely discount theory number five here is a question - in previous world cups how many All Blacks first five-eighths have suffered tournament ending injuries kicking goals at training? And at those World Cups how many played all games apart from perhaps the final pool game against some shit team like Japan. Answer those questions and then try and convince me that option number five isn't the right one.

Graham Henry on cocaine?

Is he? Or it is just part of some misguided media directive to try and seem more happy, more approachable, more normal? Well if it is it's not working. He is coming across about as sane as a Kenyan dog with rabies that just had it's tail run over by a Ugandan refugee on a rickety scooter.

Quade Cooper?

Did you ever get a shitty, cheap, Taiwanese toy for Christmas that you opened up, played with for 15 minutes and it was really cool? The after about 15 minutes all the bits broke off, the stickers peeled off and it basically became fucking worthless? Ladies and Gentlemen I give you Quade Cooper from Tokoroa.

Grand Final weekend recap...

2011-10-09T21:19:00.000-07:00

Okay so I haven't posted in about a week which is due to a number of things.

1) I have been very sad about the Warriors, and
2) My dog ate my computer...

Okay but I'm back on track now so yeah, where are we - oh right, NRL Grand Final recap...

Friday 30 October:
So my day started at 5.45am as I needed to catch a 7am flight. Didn't matter, I was kicking it corporate style in business class. Flight attendant asks me if I was all okay with the business class seats and their amenities. I knowingly nod and act like flying business is a regular occurrence in the Simon Stitch-Up lifestyle. As I recline back in my comfy seat sipping on a banana-mango smoothie I think to myself "fuck I am a cock"...

I essentially do nothing all day in Sydney except take far too many pointless pictures of the Opera House and Harbour Bridge. I eventually falling asleep in the Botanical garden only to wake up completely paranoid that a snake or deadly spider will sneak out of the bushes, bite my bare foot and kill me.

Saturday 1 October:
Swan-dogg arrives from Wellington and we embark on breakfast at a firey Lebanese cafe. Richie Barnett and Awen Guttenbeil cruise in for a latte - I don't know if this is a good sign or not. Awen was part of the losing Warriors side from the 2002 Grand Final and Richie missed his Grand Final shot in 2000 because he was injured. Cruise around for the day, check into my 2nd backpackers and I'm good to go.

5.30pm and I end up in a bar right next to the backpackers wearing boardshorts, jandals and a Warriors T-shirt. It's the Scotland vs England game and jugs or beer are $10....

10.30pm and I am still at the bar with nothing in my belly except four jugs or Carlton Dry and one Heineken. Suddenly the bar has gone from a dawdling sports bar to teeming with chicks. My accompanying party are gone and I am certain I have my hands up the shirt of a Danish backpacker. This is heaven and why I have avoided having a real job all these years. Eat your heart Captain Hard-work!

Sunday 2 October: GRAND FINAL DAY
Grand Final Day starts cold with torrential rain. On the bright side I do see a guy cruising down George Street wearing a Warriors jersey, stubby shorts and jandals. Grab an $8 breakfast and slap $20 at $2.40 down on the junior Warriors to win 13+. Easy money right there. Head out to the arse end of Sydney to meet up with the retards, um I mean, champions that thought it was a fun idea to fly into the Gold Coast Saturday and drive the 11 hours to Sydney. The team instantly bonds and we are off to Homebush. Along the way we manage to collectively urinate publicly in cups, drink illegally and offend Asians. Once again, life is pretty good right now.

As a youngster I used to watch the Winfield Cup Grand Finals with such excitement and wonder that to actually be at a final watching my home team playing is somewhat surreal. We get in halfway through the first half of the Toyota Cup and the juniors are up by a try. They extend that to 14 points with 10 minutes to go and my little wager looks good to go. Then almost predictably they revert back a bunch of lazy, old (not that any of them could possibly be over-aged or anything?) Islanders and essentially snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. They get bailed out by some poor North Queenslander shitting his pants on a game winning conversion from basically right out in front and go on to win in extra point. Frankly I only cared about my bet they managed to fuck up. Stitched. Of course what I really care about in the NRL 1st grade Premiership trophy...

The game itself I can't remember too much about. Partly because I was watching it in such a state of concentration and anxiety. Of course what I do remember were the utterly comical events that took place 6 minutes before half time. See it appeared to me like in the space of about a minute Manly managed to play a ball directly sideways, be awarded a phantom penalty and score a try off one of the most blatant tackle interferences I can ever remember. Of course that may have never happened and I was hallucinating due to the 3.5% beer I was drinking.

The rest is history, the Warriors mounted a valiant comeback but they were just too far behind. I swear for a fleeting second I was transported back to a 14 year old who cried after Joel Stransky thwarted us at the 1995 Rugby World Cup as tears began to well up. Then again, that was probably just the 3.5% strength beer...

Monday 3rd October and Tuesday the 4th October:
The boys head off early Monday for 10 hours on the road and a further 3 in the air. I genuinely wonder if they would have it had the Warriors won. I honestly doubt it. I hang out Monday with a high ranking Unilever executive before he flys out later that night at check into my 3rd hostel of the trip. Here I meet a couple of French chicks who tun out to be pretty sweet. One is despicably hot but about as interesting as a dirty towel that has been used for five days in a row. I actually would rather hang out for a day with my dirty towel. Luckily her friends are cool chicks and we do all the things one should when hanging out with French girls. We talk about threesomes, anal sex and the size of black mens johnsons. Sigh.

I depart the fair shores of Australia still quietly shattered about the result but at the same time happy that the business deals and relationships I have made on my trip will financially secure this blogs future for at least the next two or so weeks...