The Incredible 1993 VFA Grand Final Brawl And Celebration.

Just watch.

It's extraordinary.

But really, I don't see too much wrong with it.

Love seeing the kids get up close to the action.

And here's the low key news report reaction.

If anything like this was to happen today, Australia's media would melt in it's own stupid juices.

The Cracks Are Starting To Appear.

First, some nice work from Gawker.

Pippa Middleton's butt: Is it real? Opinions differ!
"I'm not convinced that it's completely natural... she may have had some sort of pants that gave her a little bit of a lift, or even a little bit of padding" says London spa owner Lesley Reynolds Kahn. "[E]xpensive dresses are designed to do all the heavy lifting on their own... and couture is almost always going to do more for a lass than a pair of jeans," says E!'s Natalie Finn. "Please give me food," says a starving Somali child. 

No, I'm not desperate enough for visitors to post a photo of Pippa's arse. That's so last financial year.

Which reminds me of this marvelous bit of repartee I had with a young StKilda supporter girl on Friday night.

Me: "OOH ST KILDA, THE CRACKS ARE STARTING TO APPEAR!"

Girl: "WELL, PULL YOUR PANTS UP THEN!"

I believe the kids of today would say that I was "totes pwned".

Some football supporters yesterday.

 Orxx.

It Could Have Happened To Anyone

So I'm out on the turps with me workmates and we find ourselves at Bar 20. Hard on the piss, it's getting towards one and most of them go soft and reckon it's time to go cos we've all got to go to Queensland in the morning. Soft cocks, fuck 'em. So I'm staying with one or two guys from one of our enemy companies, talking shop and getting hard on it.

20's fucked. Alright, let's go to Spearmint Rhino. And we get there and there's a few friends of friends around and everyone seems to know us and shit, these Jager Bombs are going down well. Real well. And there's two big bastards who reckon they know us. I'm not complaining cos they know the strippers too and besides there's drinks being shoved in my hands from all angles. Private room? Whatever. I'm getting tired now. Gotta get to the airport early in a few hours.

So the funny bastard big blokes reckon they're going to kick on somewhere else and they'd drop me off on the way and we get into his black Merc and fuck, how fast is he driving. I've had too much and nah, I gotta get home sorry mate all right just one at yer mates' place but I gotta get back. Mate's place is a fucking dragon's lair. Compound. Big get fucked fence, razor ribbon the works.

And then things really get out of hand.

In No Uncertain Terms You Are Not Welcome In The Rooms After The Game Mr White Maggot

One of my favorite weekly reads is the tribunal hearings report in the VAFA's The Amateur Footballer.

This week's bombshell involves my club, The Bloods.

We were charged with conduct unbecoming during their senior match against Collegians on Saturday May 26, 2007 at McKinnon.

The specific charges are as follows:

1. That during the first half of the match abuse was allegedly directed towards the umpires from a spectator on the far wing.

2. That players no. 17, Kynan Ford and no.9, Matthew Brewer, allegedly told the umpires in no uncertain terms that they were not welcome in the social rooms.

Charges proven. Club fined $100. Players Ford and Brewer placed on $100 bond on the condtioin they do not offend again.

The Bloods apologised to umpires.

In a stunning development, Fordy was sent off in today's game against Old Brighton half way through the last quarter for uttering an "audible obscenity".

Mad Skillz World Cup 2007

Our representative from the USA, Dan Dzoan with his world record, 17.9 second, one-handed Rubik's Cube solve. Later in the day Dan missed out on breaking the Razzle Dazzle endorsed, one-handed newspaper scrunching world record by less than a second.


From Japan, Bob McKenzie and Harry Fitzpatrick and their unforgettable rally in the 1993 Fukuoka Regionals semi final. I was there and boy, it was a terrific game.


Sweden's Niclas Ceder banging home an almost perfect 99.75 per cent on the stupidly hard Uber Rave DDR machine. Niclas lists the Nicholas Brothers, Glynn Nicholas and Saint Nicholas as the four blokes he'd love to invite to his bungalow for a dinner party.


"Ordemmysanchuabake! Ordemmysanchuabake! Ordemmysanchuabake!" were the cries from the commentator when Japan's Terrance McPhee succeeded in his world record trampoline basketball dunk.


South Korea's Aichi Jones spins around 89280 degrees on his head. Jones advises that to keep from getting dizzy it's best to close your eyes and think intently of puppy dogs wearing silly hats.


And the winner is....

Australia and Macedonia's Peter Daicos!

Daics can do all the crazy stuff the other competitors from Japan, USA, Sweden and South Korea do, but every time he goes to upload his trick videos to YouTube, he finds his kids have yet again exceeded the family's monthly internet bandwidth limit.

Love Is The Rose And I Only Picked Seven

Writing his Real Footy series on how we watch footy in 2007, one of my fave writer blokes, John Harms, went to The Rose in Fitzroy to watch the freak locals watching the Collingwood v Brisbane game last Saturday night.

I was there too and we had a chat.

While I was at the bar, a local sidled up to me, to set me straight: "It's a f---en Richmond pub, mate. The publican brings out a big cup when Richmond wins. It gets passed around. You have to have a drink. He won't let you go home. It's the only time he brings it out." Then he corrected himself. "Oh yeah, and for buck's parties."

Yep, that was me.

Here's the link to the whole article. Read it and you'd swear you were there too.

NW's Footy Comeback Dream Shattered

Another torn Anterior Cruciate Ligament has ripped apart my dream to return to amateur football this year (and maybe again).

I was due to return to my beloved Bloods reserve grade team this Saturday but no, instead I will be going on a big bike ride to get ready for yet another fricken knee reconstruction.

I ran and rode so many kilometers, did hundreds of sit-ups and even mucked about with weights in the preseason only to get my ACL ripped while paying for a ticket on a tram.

Gutted.

My notoriously bad luck is starting to get dangerous. Stay the hell away from me if you're scared of black cats, ladders and unlucky underpants.

Pussy Cat Pussy Cat Where Have You Been?

Big adventures in the past week have kept me away from The Nightwatchman.

Hell started Tuesday.

After a particularly tough day of dealing with a difficult laptop computer, even more difficult friends and writing about sustainability (who isn't writing about sustainability these days?), I was super duper excited to get a table with a less difficult mate at my fave-ever counter meal establishment, The Robert Burns.

The Robert Burns seafood paella is the best in Melbourne but not Tuesday's.

Nope, on Tuesday I copped a bad arse hit of food poisoning, losing 3 kilograms in 24 hours.

Which brings me to the ANZAC spirit. When walking the Kokoda our diggers often suffered from bad cases of the trots like mine. With hand under their trousers, they would march through the mud and up the hill.

Uppiddy up up and downiddy down down.

It was this kind o' spirit that got me through the ANZAC game. In the pub before the game I was a wreck. No beers and I could barely concentrate on me footy mates' conversation. Whether Chris Egan was to play or not, I didn't care.

More compelling- what if I have to rush to the Gary Glitter during the game? Not even the hardiest of soldiers would dare use a MCG cubicle. Visiting the London Tavern's was scary enough but the MCG my frickin' sheesh.

After advice from mates to get in the car and get the hell away to a bogue house with a TV in the toilet I decided to drag my leakin' behind to the game.

Only had to visit the MCG khazis twice.

First visit and I queued behind a 19 year-old bloke who urinated into the toilet WITH THE SEAT DOWN.

As my fave Catherine Tate Show character, Nan Taylor would say, THE FUCKING LIBERTY!!

And what a surprise, the kid was no Elvis Costello, his aim being nowhere close to being true. If I wasn't so rushed to wipe the seat and get down to business I would have beat up the little freak.

For all of us.

Second visit no problem. Didn't miss anything. Only a few ball ups apparently.

Top game too.

Tears came to my eyes when Heath Shaw won the ANZAC Medal.

It wasn't the first time for tears that day and neither was it the last.

My arse was on fire.

The Bloods A-Grade Premiers!

Sunday was the greatest day in Old Haileybury's long history, winning it's first ever VAFA, A-Grade Grand Final.

I've been going to see the Bloods play with me mate, Brett and his dad, Richard since the mid 1980's. Brett and I even played a few games alongside each other for the club's Under 19s side. Brett's dad goal umpired those games.

Richard "Dicky" Metherall was a brilliant bloke. He played over 200 games for the Bloods and was club president for many years. The entire senior team and so many other club men and women attended his funeral. That day, three years ago and the game-days afterwards were torrid. Everyone loved Brett's dad.

A funny and passionate bastard, Richard loved his club, Collingwood and football back. When Collingwood were playing the 2002 Grand Final, Brett was tied up in a town somewhere in Italy. He called back home so somebody could play the televison commentary down the phone line. A minute into the last quarter, Brett's dad picks up the phone, turns down the TV volume and yells, "These idiots know bugger all. I'll commentate from now on." And he did. Better than Peter Landy and company I hear.

Now Dicky's club is delirious.


It was bloody exciting to be in the rooms, singing the song after the game. Lucky I was wearing a raincoat I tells you because it was raining champagne in there!

Such a good win to beat VAFA glamour side, Old Xavier by 23 points.



The stars turn out to the VAFA Grand Final. So I could get a little bit of his mojo wafting in the hard Elsternwick Park breeze, I had to spend a quarter downwind from Nathan Buckley (bloke in the grey). He was awful kind to any kid, old fella or wench wanting a chat, handshake or photo op. I was too nervous about the what was going onfield to approach.

Bucks loves sending text messages.

Go Bloods!