The Passion of the Christopher

Rugby: A Sport Invented To Make Fat-Boys Look Cool
Article 6: November 1, 2006

A couple of rugby-playing knob-jockies, yesterday.

If there's one thing I hate more than screwing rusty nails into my eyeballs, it's rugby. In my home country of South Africa, rugby players are treated like fucking royalty, and in my current residence of the UK I have to constantly be reminded about how "attractive" rugby players are by girls who like men with "big builds". Excuse me, but have I entered an alternate fucking universe here? With this kind of appraisal, it's no wonder these douche-bags strut about thinking they own the joint.

Let's look at this the way Freud might have: rugby is a sport featuring grown men trying to be "macho" while grabbing at each other's legs and bending over to get up-close and personal in a thing called a "scrum". It doesn't take a genius to figure out the sub-text of what is really going on here. Thank fuck no cameras are allowed in the locker rooms.

In South Africa, rugby has always been in the mainstream, with rugby players walking into an eating establishment or some entertainment venue, and taking over the room with their loud, obnoxious behaviour. Of course, nobody would dare tell them to "shut the fuck up" because this would be akin to a heinous crime involving your grandmother and a machete. As part of the sport indoctrination in South Africa, I had to sacrifice countless afternoons and weekends playing every variety of sport imaginable, including rugby. I actually had to don the uniform, get out onto the field where I was made to chase after an oval ball. When I rarely got hold of this oval ball, I had to run past a white line on the outskirts of the field and touch the ground with it, at which point I had scored a "try". I mean, really. Just fuck off. These are afternoons and weekends I will be begging for as I gasp my last breath.

These rugby-playing cock-smokers are pretty easy to spot too considering they all look exactly alike. Here's what you would have to do should you wish to normalise yourself whilst living in a rugby-obsessed lunatic country:

1) Wear a silly little rugby jersey.
2) Break your nose.
3) Aquire cauliflower ears.
4) Remove your neck.
5) Grow huge fucking shoulders, and legs similar to tree trunks.
6) Make your head all square and squashed up.
7) Become a fat bastard.

Voila! You now look like this:

Regrettably, in the UK, rugby is now reaching the mainstream to the point where chicks are able to rattle off the names of rugby players and talk about how "gorgeous" a certain player supposedly is, and "gorgeous" isn't their code-word for "complete and utter wank-stain". Regrettably. Charlotte Church, the former Voice of an Angel who now makes a living being smug, has a boyfriend in the shape of Gavin Henson. Gavin Henson lives in his own private universe, one he thinks the inhabitants should be orally servicing him at every given opportunity. Too bad when the majority of civilised humanity looks at his fake tan, pointy-face, weak-chin and stupid hair, we would sooner vomit up our Cheerios. Preferably all over him. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this level of cunt, here's a picture:

Conclusion to this article: avoid rugby unless you are a contemptible shit-licker.