Sunday Evening 

 

We were pretty exhausted when we arrived back from the pony ride and I think all the women were expecting to have a hot soak and a lie down...and, who knows what else to follow? But it appeared the men had different ideas. Naturally it was Terry who got the ball rolling, as it were, on the ride back. He started with:

"Haven't we been good boys today? No one fell off...pushed anyone else off, made a show of themselves, indulged in reckless gambling, upset the fragile sensibilities of women...anyone here up for a bit of male holiday amusement?"

Considering they had all indulged quite liberally in most perversions known to humankind since we arrived, I thought that this was peculiarly inaccurate him. But you know men...when they really chill out, what is the first thing they want to do?

"What you got in mind?" Lachlan asked.

"Annual pub match. God's Own country versus The Losers. Take this load of bastards on and show them how we do it in the old country. Beach footy. Oz style."

"Now you're talking," Jeff joined in. "We'll fucking wipe the floor with them."

"Oh...yeah....?" Zack smirked. "I played football in college..." At that the Aussies just howled. Oh dear, not a good reaction...

"Right... we get back, change and get stuck in. Ladies, don't even try and stop us. We intend to hurt each other, bleed all over you, expect you to wait on us hand and foot all night and keep away while we have the thing every man really wants. Drunken, naked locker room high jinks. We shall be crude, suitably gross, extremely sexist, macho, domineering, posturing, puerile bordering on infantile, and mildly homo-erotic. Oh and further more, apart from supplying food, drinks, applause, first aid, cheering and kisses...you girls have absolutely no role at all. Just watching. Ya got that?"

Well, what could we say? I think we rather liked the idea. What's not to like. Half naked men wrestling on a sweaty pitch proving how tough and virile they are for us to perve over? This holiday is just getting better and better.

A few hours later there we all were. The teams jogged out clad in their kits. Of course the Aussies looked the part. With the Olympic Games so imminent, they all had their new kits and looked like a real squad, whereas the 'Those Not Lucky Enough To Be Born In God's Own Country' team (hereafter to be called TNLETBBIGOC or Losers, for short) looked like a right Rag, Tag and Bobtail outfit in an array of sports wear that hardly inspired confidence.

We were fortunately pretty evenly matched in terms of numbers and blessedly favoured on the Oz side by youth and actual people-who-knew-how-to-play-the-game. Not that that has ever bothered Bud, of course. But, I rush ahead of myself. The girls were prepared to support and the guys were prepared to unleash hell.  Forgive me if I have a most unladylike taste for blood sports where men are concerned.

 

TEAM SHEET

AUSSIES

The Pervaroos

LOSERS

The Loserettes

Terry   ( c)

Erycina

Jack (c)

Angel

Lachlan

Cassie

Maximus

Eris

Hando

Scarlet

Bud

Marie

Jeff

Uma

Cort

Bridgid

Colin

Gaia

John Biebe

Clarity

East

wildcardgal

John Nash

Angharad

Johnny

Darrin

Zack

Heather

Dominic

Dino

Jack Corbett

Arthur

Egan

Russell Crowe
(in absentia)

Ref: Stephen   

 

 

                                  

As soon as they hit the field, the Aussies huddled together, shouted a few Rugby war cries and then set to warming, up, throwing the ball between them and making breaks, practising passes and touchdowns, goal kicks and the like. The Losers argued about the rules. This was going to be fun.

The women sat on wooden benches all round. If we had thought about it, we probably should have taken different sides of the field but instead we all piled in together, initially forgetting that our men were pretty evenly spread out 7 Pervaroos and 7 Loserettes.

Marie had organized an impromptu set of cheerleaders for the Losers - apparently they call themselves the World XI (ha ha!) - despite the obvious fact that no self respecting Union match would ever be graced with the degrading sight of girls chanting and dancing in pop poms and ra-ra skirts.

"W-O-R-L-D... Champions we are meant to be!" and other such trite doggerel sang out The Loserettes. Those in the know (that was me and a hastily put together song sheet) entertained our own lads with some more correctly-worded Rugby songs. The sort of virile marching song that best suits a game of real men, interspersed with chants of "Ozzie, Ozzie Ozzie. Oi Oi Oi!", while Marie led her ladies in what passed for a saucy rhyme but merely had us laughing:

 

 

"Doesn't even bloody rhyme! Come on Pervaroos! Let's show 'em," I encouraged.

So with my little choir we Pervaroos easily out-shouted the pathetic chants of the opposition, ably abetted by the bass support from the Boys from Oz who were, of course, extremely familiar with the repertoire.

 

 

We opened the show with The Girl's Best Friend (Sung to "Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend") For Durex read Trojan, American ladies. Great routine. We were flappers born to flap.

 

 

And then we moved on to: Why Are We Waiting? (Sung to 'Oh, Come All Ye Faithful') whilst The Losers tried to figure out their respective positions:

 

 

Our performance had a second benefit. Whilst our Aussies had, of course, heard these songs a million times before, the opposition hadn't, and as we got more and bawdy, the guys on the other side kept stopping and saying "What was that?" "They said - what?" By the time we got to "T'was on the good ship Venus" (we reckoned this would get Jack's goat) we were having a whale of a time and the opposition ladies were trying their best to shut us up.

Just before the kick off, Lachlan came over, took up a central position, looking resplendent in his yellow and green Australia strip - he's got great legs - cleared his throat and announced that he had another poem that was about something that was almost as close to his heart as flying. It would take the place of national anthems as there were too many nationalities involved. The women settled down, expecting a moving paean to sport. This is what they got.

 

 

"Come on team," shouted Lachlan and summoned the Pervaroos up again to support him with the chorus, which we added at the end of every verse... although towards the end of this self-penned poem, we were laughing so hard that it was barely audible:

 

 

Meanwhile Lachlan continued in a sombre faced, declamatory style. Sir Lawrence Olivier would have been proud of him.

 

 

Angel squeaked but I think she knows the rhyme so she didn't say too much.

 

 

Clarity's face was a picture. She didn't know whether to laugh or look indignant.

 

 

Angharad joined in - you can't keep a good Welsh girl down!

 

 

 

He smiled, as did Eris. It could have been worse

 

 

Zack's look was a picture...not a pretty one....  

 

 

Terry fell on the ground and rolled over laughing at that point. 

 

 

Cort shook his head at them. Was even a man of God not to be spared?

 

 

"This is supposed to be funny? Jesus, you kiss your mother with that mouth, pal?" Bud retorted scowling. Oh yes...his blood is up. But Lachlan was not to be stopped. The traditional winding up of the opposition had been accomplished. Now the battle was about to commence.

 

 

Lachlan finished with a bow to thunderous applause from the Aussies who were making a sort of grunting and stamping their feet. Then they turned and dropped their shorts. What a sight! The girls all went nuts, most forgetting that they were supporting the opposite team but too excited to care. Shorts pulled up, the team of Heroes ( the Aussies...I am NOT biased!) jogged to their starting positions calling out to each other, making rude motions with their hands, and offering to show the girls from the other side a better time than their men could give them.

The opposition was scowling, but there had been some smirks. I expect a few choice threats were being made under breaths.  Stephen was calling the players to order, looks were being exchanged and some shoving was already evident. We settled down, took our places and waited for the toss. World XI won and the ball was placed. Jack passed, Jeff intercepted and he threw it on to Lachlan who whipped it to Johnny. With a swerving motion, he was away, clearly getting the drop on the other side which had hardly been ready for the manoeuvre - and they were away. A try within the first minute. We were off and running. The Pervaroos were also off and running:

"Johnny, Johnny, show us your dick, show us your dick, show us your dick...." He grinned and his team mates gave him the usual- hair ruffled, thump on the back, scream in his face...no kissing, though, it's not soccer. Let's be manly about it, hey?

As they took their positions for the whistle, I noticed a little bit of struggling around Lachlan. Bud had settled himself in front of him and Lachlan was jigging about to get a free look at the ball. The pass was made, Lachlan jumped up for it but stumbled and then staggered back. Bud collected and passed, pulling his arm back awkwardly, connecting his elbow with Lachlan's nose. The younger man clapped his hands to his face as Bud shouted "Sorry, my arm slipped..." and ran past. Bud looked at Stephen who was already on the ball and then raised his knee. Crunch. The girls all grimaced as Lachlan went down like a lead balloon. "Sorry 'bout that," Bud grinned and ran back to the fray. The final assault came as he was lying squirming, his nose bleeding and his balls obviously smashed. Jack stepped back and walked over him, boots and all. Yes, walked. All fifteen stone of him. Lachlan's lifeless body lay helpless in the mud.

Stephen blew a whistle. "Stretcher! Get this man off!" Biebe and Cort ran on with a stretcher and helped the groaning man onto it. Unfortunately, as they reached the sidelines, they stumbled and he was flung onto his head.

"Oh dear, Oh dear..." Biebe said unconvincingly. "What a terrible thing to happen... I hope it hasn't affected your Muse..." Cort merely smirked and the two men both ran back leaving Lachlan to the mercies of the Sisters. Now normally an injured Brother would bring such a level of harmonized cooing that the whole place would be drowned out. But we are talking Lachlan here. He had upset the Loserettes who were normally very partial to his poetry (among other things). But not this time... Poor Lachlan rolled to a sitting position and held his groin.

"You got something for my dose," he said. Angel threw him a cloth. "I think I broke my dose."

"Pity, honey, Eris replied.

"Yeah- we were hoping you'd bust your balls as well," Angel added. They all laughed.

"What have I done?" Lachlan smirked.  He knew full well what he'd done to spark that.  He likes a good hard game.  Why else would he wind them all up with that song?  Looks like he wasn't done either.  "They fucking attacking me out there- White is a fucking animal.. The loony doctor never even gave a card. You lot are treating me like some kind of jerk..."  He is so full of it.  I saw several eyes roll. 

Fortunately the Pervaroos waded in at that point. Cassie was beside herself and was all ready to face off the Rest of the World girls. To a woman we leapt up and took Lochie to our communal bosom. Poor boy! He was in pain but so cute - and in a very bad way.

"Let's just check out that groin injury, hon," Scarlet said tenderly as we laid him back on a heap of towels and jackets. "Oooh dear....that is bruised! Let me just rub in some cream to cool it down..." He lay there and let us minister to him, and barely winced when Scarlet massaged his balls with balm, except to say. "My dick's a bit sore as well..." and smile smarmily up at her. She is such a wonderful woman. She carried out her duties like a true perve.  Gaia was hovering, offering him all sorts of verbal tenderness in her charming Gallic accent, but clearly eager to give a bit of manual, too. She seemed very concerned about those balls. The rest of us all just had a perve. Well, we're only human and he is a big boy...

Returning to the match. I am not going to take you through the whole thing blow-by- blow. It isn't sex , I wouldn't like to lose your interest. Anyway, you were there. But here are some of the recorded highlights. Sort of 'the best comments as overheard from the sidelines:

 

Erycina to Uma: I hope Terry's wearing a cup.

Erycina to Terry: Terry! Stop getting stuck in- you're going to get hurt!"

Bud (making kissy noises): "Hey, Thorne, ya fuckin' nancy...wouldn't like to hurt you..."

World XI: Woo, Action Man might get hurt...."

Cort  (in high pitched voice) "Let me kiss it better, Terry, did the nasty man hurt your little balls?

Jeff to Erycina: "I'll look after his balls, Erycina! Safe as houses with me on his back..."

Terry to Jeff: You want the fucking goal post up your arse, Mitchell?"

Bud to Terry: Hear that, Max? He's making up to Mitchell now..."

 

That was when Terry went for Bud and slid in on a tackle, taking his knee out. As Terry jogged off, he carelessly turned his back. Bud ran up and past him, his left arm loose. Clothes-lined. Terry went down in a heap. I screamed and Marie laughed. I pushed her on the floor and would have jumped on her if Clarity and Eris hadn't held me back. By then Terry was on his feet and roaring mad. I knew he was going to blow. Bud smirked and said. "What ? Game too tough? Muss your hair up, slimeball?"

We all flinched as Terry dived. Bud charged. Arthur didn't see it coming - he was actually playing the ball. You could hear the crack as the two men hit Arthur and he crumpled, down like a ton of bricks. Out cold.

 

All the girls: ARTHUR!!!

Angharad: Cariad bach!

Terry, kneeling down at Arthur's side: You alright, mate? How many fingers? Talk to me, Arthur...

Bud crouching down: Hey, kid, you OK?

 

Stephen blew the whistle and gave Arthur a quick examination. "Step away, men, give the boy air and give me light." He looked into his eyes and carefully checked his vitals. "Head injury. I may have to trepan if there is swelling..."

 

East to Stephen: Trepan?

Stephen: Open his skull to relieve the pressure. I have often done it on board.

 

Jack's knees went from under him. Angel screamed and ran onto the pitch. She bowled her way through the milling crowd of men to get to Jack and cradle his head in her hands.

 

Colin to Lachlan: Jesus, see her move? Thank Christ they didn't play her! What a fly half!

Angel: Someone get me water for Jack

Hando to Angel: I'll piss in his mouth if you like, love.

Colin: Just wave that arse in his face, it's working on me from here. You could wake up a dead man with that, Angel.

 

Angel jumped up and went for Hando and Colin. They jumped back and covered their balls instinctively. Max caught her and held her back as she started swinging wildly at them. Stephen stood up and waved a card. "Get that woman off the field- NOW!" Angel was escorted off to cries of. "White off! Angel on!" from the rest of the girls.

 

Aussies to girls: Yeah. Angel's got more testosterone than the whole bunch of losers rolled together.

Terry to Jack: Get up, Jacko. Stop faking. She's gone.

Jack to Terry: A momentary lapse, Sir. Next time, I'll make sure I fall on you. Do you smoke that, you blaggard?"

Terry (grabbing his own groin): You smoke this, mate?

 

The girls all jeered as Jack and Terry faced each other up. But our interest was taken by Zach running to the edge of the field and pissing against a tree; he was shortly joined by almost everyone else who seemed to think a potty break had been announced. The women all shouted "You dirty animals" and were rewarded by a few squirts in their direction. They are just too much - but it made the boys all laugh anyway as they jiggled their equipment into the required place and ran back on. They don't half fuss with their bits, do they? Can you see women doing that in public?

 

 

While all this was going on, Arthur had woken up, shaken himself and insisted on being allowed back on. He said that a head injury in a Rugby match was almost obligatory where he came from and that his Da would never let him forget it if he allowed such a trifle to put him off. Angharad said farewell with as much passion as if she had been sending him off to war. Stephen had another quick check, said that his vital signs were excellent - although his heart beat had accelerated but that was possibly caused by Angharad - and let him go. He's quite a little hero is our Arthur. Man of the match, I would almost say - except he's on the losing side.

Play resumed and finally the Losers were awarded a spot kick. They all looked at each other and Arthur went to take it - but was pulled back. They should have let him. He's a Welshman. They absorb Rugby with their mother's milk. But, oh no, one of the big guys wanted it. The general consensus was Maximus as he had experience with long range missiles. You don't kick ballistae at the enemy, boys! He missed. Oh dear, oh dear. The Aussies started singing the usual taunt for those who fuck up.

 

 

Maximus gave them a thunderous look and I winced at the possible outcome. Bud with his blood up would be nothing next to a seriously pissed off Maximus and they were only screwing him up tighter and tighter. Was the purpose of this game to bond or tear the blokes apart? But as I love a bit of blood, I was in my element

Back to the game and the Losers were beginning to get the hang of this. A clever little dink from Nash and a feint from Maximus put the ball in Dino's hands- and he's wiry - he can run and swerve. Off he went and looked like he was going to cut a swathe through our boys. Terry was not having that. He launched himself - full tackle- but Dino was only clipped and kept his balance. That was it. Shorts. Terry just grabbed the back of his shorts and yanked. Dino hit the deck and Terry threw himself on top. The ball was snatched from his hands by Dominic and he kicked it back into touch.

As Terry rolled off, the girls began to cheer. There is nothing quite as much fun as a naked bum revealed in the midst of the game. We couldn't hear the interchange between Dino and Terry but it looked like some very choice words - Terry was laughing but Zack's comment of "Thought you were up his ass then, Captain," wiped the smile of his face. Another round of insults was thrown while Dino rearranged his shorts and then took a bow to the appreciative audience who were all whistling and banging their feet.

Fortunately Stephen blew for half time just then and the men all threw themselves around on the sidelines while we ran out and dispensed the usual orange quarters, water and minor first aid - they got that even if they didn't need it. It was all..."Let me just massage your thighs, Jack" and "Bud, honey, maybe you need an ice pack on your knee..."  (she didn't mention the hand he appeared also to need on his groin).

Then Bridgid stood up and announced to her girls that they should all give their men a special armband to wear- a sort of favour for them to carry as a token of their love and support. You know, like medieval knights wearing their ladies' colours? Quick trip to the loos and they emerged with their knickers and arranged them neatly around their Number One's biceps. Dirty pool, Loserettes. I shouted: "C'mon you lot, knickers off for the lads."  Darrin and I didn't even bother to go to the ladies- Aussies like their women tough - but Wildcardgal sort of paled.

"Psst...Wildie. Get your knickers off!" I mouthed.

"I can't!" she whispered.

"Why?"

"I don't know where they are!"

But Lachlyn heard that. "You little tart...hey - Wildie's lost her panties. Wonder how that happened?" She asked with a snort

You didn't need an answer. Wildie went bright red and East choked on a piece of orange. His teammates laid in.

"You had a pre-match fuck? No wonder you can't run, you randy bastard!" Terry shouted.

"I can run. I only did it once. That's how I warm up," East had recovered his cool. "Men of my age warm up. Blokes of your age have a nap. Or take a bottle of Viagra."

Jeering all around. Hando was laughing and leaning on the corner flag. He asked for it. Arthur said, in a very loud whisper. "Hando looks tired. Has to lean on that flag, see. Mind you, he's over 30 now..."

"Hey, Romeo..." Zack shouted "...that explain why you always keep one hand on the wall? Need the extra help to keep upright?" Cort and Bud rolled about laughing at that. Jack put his head in his hands. Next half blood would be spilled, you could count on it.

"You ever tried to be a tough guy with a corner flag stuck up your arse?" Hando muttered but he did let go of the post rather quickly. 

It was then that Gaia and Clarity disappeared for a while. I presumed they were getting a drink but they weren't. They were using their brains. Remember the camera in the Powder Room back home? Well, it ain't there anymore. Fortunately the dressing room was open. Oh dear, oh dear...I wonder what they are going to do, boys?

Whistle and second half. Time for the real action. First blood to Bud. Grabbed Egan's balls in the scrum. Never thought Egan could reach such a high note - he doesn't normally say much. You should have seen the look of abject horror on everyone's faces as he fell to his knees - he is very well liked by the girls. Bud gave them a grin. "Good job you've got me, girls..." Stephen blew the whistle and cautioned him.  Bud said "Fuck off!" Jack put his head in his hands again and endeavoured to explain why he should not have said that to the ref. Bud said "Fuck off." Jack punched him in the face.

Hando was next to blow. The ball came at him but Zack got in the way. Bad move, Egan! Our friendly Skin grabbed him by the collar and head butted him before grabbing his balls and twisting. "Let's hear you shout my name, ya bastard, and I might give ya these back!" he growled menacingly.

Whistle. Another caution. There'll be a sending off in a minute- just wait.

Play resumed. Hando tripped up Dom, took the ball with a "This is how ya fuckin' score mate!' and then scored a rather impressive try. Lachlan threw himself on Jeff in congratulations but I wasn't fooled. Old trick, Lach. He left his boot in - Jeff was raked down his leg. Stud marks. Very nasty. Cassie took a sharp intake of breath. "Men! They just never forgive, do they?" Jeff snarled and went for Lachlan who danced away laughing.  Stephen stopped the match. Talked to them both. Turned away. Lachlan went for Jeff. Terry stepped in. "You're on the same fucking team, you nobs. Later!"

A surprising thing happened then. The Losers started scoring. First a try- Arthur, what a man!- he loved the chorus of "Arthur , Arthur shows us your dick!" even if he did blush every shade of red- and then Jack scored the drop. The Aussies looked sheepish. Terry was giving them a right old talking to. "How the fuck did that happen? Get your fingers out, ya pack of girls!" and they got down to business.

A short while later there was another incident in the scrum. As they all peeled away and the ball went forward, we noticed Max and Terry rather subdued. Sort of looking at each other. It was only later that we realized they were seeing stars. Seems neither would give way and they had simple tried to run through each other. Must have been like two charging rhinos. It was a wonder they were still standing.

Our attention was taken then by an off-the-ball incident between Lachlan and Zack. Not sure how it flared up but we heard Zack grunt and Lach shout "Suck on this , Grant!" I think it went back to the fact that Zack and Cassie had had a little interlude a few weeks' ago. Woo baby, were they taking out the aggression on each other today! Whatever had occurred, Zack stumbled and must have hurt his knee because he limped a few steps and Cassie went into overdrive.

"Lachlan Curry, you throw your weight around once more and that is the last time you get it this holiday...you got that?" Then she realised that everyone had heard her and blushed. The men stopped and jeered. The women giggled.

Cassie suddenly changed her mind.

"Are you laughing at Lachlan ....?" Next thing Stephen blew his whistle and we had to drag a few of the women apart. Cassie and Lachlyn were cautioned. Darrin, Gaia and I tutted. Very unseemly behaviour. We sang another rude song to show how much more ladylike we were.

To be quite honest it was a shambles already and then it suddenly really went up. Jeff fouled Cort, Cort swore, Jeff called him a nob, Cort swung, Jeff ducked, Cort hit East who was merely trying to separate them, East threw himself at Cort. Jack piled in, Colin jumped on him, Jack swung round and threw Colin off, he hit Nash, Nash lost it and punched Colin, Max tried to intervene, Egan elbowed him, he whirled round and got hold of Dom who had been wading in after Egan, all the Aussies went berserk when Dom went down like a stone after a right hook from Max - and then everyone piled on. Bud tried to haul a few off but somebody said "Ya mother...." You can imagine the rest.

It was like a barroom brawl - and none of them was even drunk. Stephen blew the whistle, was ignored and finally gave up trying to bring order. He merely announced. "I think the beer's going warm..." and they all stopped.

"Fuck! Warm beer. Only Jack will drink it. Better get the pints in, lads," and as quickly as the storm had arisen, it abated. No one seemed in the least put out. There was hardly a man amongst them who didn't have some physical injury, blood on his face -or worse - but they all seemed as happy as Larry.

"Anyone know the score?" Arthur enquired as they limped towards the sidelines.

"Fuck if I do," said Colin. That seemed to be the consensus. Men are so strange, aren't they? So they took off their shirts, exchanged them with the opposite side, put on somebody else's sweaty one (gross), hit each other on the back, cracked a case of cold tinnies and the Aussies started singing. Of course at this stage of male bonding, the enemy changes. It was now - women. Don't read any further if you are at all offended by gross male chauvinism and abusive attitudes to women. You have been warned. Off the Aussies went:

 

 

And on that note, after wiping their sweaty bodies on us, pinching our bums and making further crude suggestions for later, they took themselves off for a bath and told us to get some food cracking on the barbie. We smiled in docile feminine fashion and then hared to the computer room where we had a bird's eye view of the next stage of the proceedings. Someone give Gaia and Clarity a medal. There the guys were - in glorious technicolour - all those naked boys in their private domain. The locker room!!!

It was hilarious. They were all lounging around, showering or jumping in the pool, usually on top of each other, shaking bottles of beer and spraying each other, grabbing each other's balls, farting and singing. The younger men were rolling about fighting and pouring lager on each other's hair- Why?- and  Colin, Lachlan and Jack Corbett were leading the rest in a post-match sing-song. Even the non- Aussies could pick up the refrain, as they all knew the tune. We just gasped at the words. Who would have thought Lachlan Curry was so crude? Or little Jack Corbett? Colin - well, we weren't so surprised about. By the way, if you want to sing along with the men, the tune is "When Johnny Came Marching Home." It was of course dedicated to all the men called John. They were delighted.

 

Lachlan:

Men:

(You can hear them all joined in the refrain, can't you?)

 

 

Jack C:

 

Shouts of: "Give her one, Johnny," and other choice remarks ...

 

Colin:

 

Then they looked for other victims. Using a beer bottle like a microphone, they went around. Everyone who knew the words was delighted to jump in. East dragged the 'mike' and sang:

 

East:

 

A round of crude comments directed at East and a certain lady in a stable followed. Shy? East?

Arthur piled in next. He doesn't just know hymns apparently...

 

Arthur:

 

Deafening shouts of "Go Artie, go!" greeted that last line. Next up was Dominic. He said "I can't do the next verse, fellas! Come on..." But they all jeered and called him chicken, so he gave in. With a pained expression he sang:

 

Dom:

 

He gained plenty of kudos for that. Hando poured an entire bottle of beer over his head in praise. "What's the last verse?" Colin shouted. Terry laughed. "Like you don't fucking know?" but sang it anyway...

 

Terry:

 

At which great witticism they all fell about and made crude choking noises. We just shook our heads at them. They are like extremely disgusting children. Somebody should smack their bottoms and put them to bed. Can I be mother?

They all quieted down after their aria and then Bud stood up and said. "Look at my fuckin' knee." It was swollen (although I think most of us weren't looking at his knee.) That started them off comparing wounds. They were showing each other their arses, thighs, you name it - I thought they'd start grooming each other next. Of course that brought up the subject of women- almost everything does.

"They fucking love scars. They'll be on me like white on rice when they see this one..." Terry announced, pointing at the cut on his scalp. He still had congealed blood on his face like a badge of honour. "Good job you've got a few bruises on your lily white arse, O'Leary... you need all the help you can get to pull a bird..."

"That would put me high on the list then...not a man here who can meet me scar for scar," Jack boasted.

"Fair play...Jack gets it hands down - but some of you old blokes look like road maps..." Lachlan mused. "Almost as colourful as Skin over there."

"You lucky bastard, Jack, bet they wet their knickers when they cop you in the buff..." Colin retorted.

Terry stood up and pointed. "Bullet...knife...dog snapped at my arse but I tell them it was the line of duty..."

Bud gave a twirl. "Beat this, shitbird. Glass, bottle, knife, bullet, bullet, bullet..."

"You forgot... nails." Cort indicated and pointed out the claw marks on his back. Bud grinned. Marie blushed. Cort was on to that one quickly, wasn't he?

Cort then pointed. "Bullet, knife, rope..."

Bud grunted. "Bite." And nodded his head at the bruise on Cort's butt. Looked like teeth and all.  All the women looked at each other in shock. Who was lying, hey? Bet there's a story in that, hey?

East said nothing but we saw him put on his shirt quickly. But the others saw it and dragged it off. "Fresh...naughty boy..."  he had scratches and bites. Looked like he'd been attacked by a rabid dog. Wildie just groaned when we pointed it out.

"I can top that. Look at this!" Dino chuckled pointed out a rather nasty scar on his lower abdomen.

"Knife?"  He shook his head.

"Bullet?" Another shake.

"Angry boyfriend..." he smirked.

"I'd forgotten about that...that is a class story..." Terry began but annoyingly, Johnny Ryan interrupted.

"Yeah...the brain goes after a certain age, Terry, after a few other things, too..." he remarked with a cheeky grin. All the younger men grunted and hooted at that. The older ones just shook their heads

Max stood up and said... "I can assure you that 2000 years on and I am still in remarkably good shape..." We girls certainly agreed with that. God, he looks so good naked...women were drooling all over the computer.

"Must be the grapes..." Arthur is getting pretty bold these days. "They say wine is very good for the constitution. Enriches the blood..."

"Never seen White drink it," Cort added wryly.

"His blood doesn't need any help," Egan remarked, rubbing his neck- he had also been clothes-lined during the game.

"Fucking A," Bud answered.

"Bud...can you say a sentence without the word fuck?" Biebe asked him.

"Fuck, no," Bud grinned. They all splashed him with water and launched into another rugby song.

"You know who would have liked this?" Cort mused when the singing had subsided. "...Our Father who art in Toronto...he'd have had a blast today...and we might have won- he'd have been on our side..."

"He's from Down Under..." Jeff protested.

"You said born in Oz... Kiwis don't count. World IX...absent member..." They all raised a bottle in his honour .

"Great bloke."

"Likes a beer."

"Mean bastard on the pitch."

"Likes a good song."

"Likes a good woman."

"Prefers a bad one!" Shouts of approval.

"Packs a punch." Zach muttered.

"Takes one as well...," Bud laughed. "Do you remember his fuckin' face after Zuma? Like a fuckin' pizza!"  There they were, all lolling about like a Roman orgy, some lying on each other, some leaning over another's shoulder, hands round necks or making the occasional grab for each other's balls and kicking each other's butts, talking and laughing... They were oblivious to the male bonding that always peculiarly resembles homosexuality to women.

Jeff lay back and observed them "You know...this reminds me of a gay gym I used to go to off The Cross..." The girls hooted at that. "You tell 'em, Jeffie!" we all shouted.

So they toweled off quickly enough then - so much fun to watch them dry themselves!!!-and slung their clothes over their shoulders. Well, those with ladies waiting for them did anyway. "Not much point in getting dressed," Bud observed as he strolled towards the door, a towel about his waist. "Marie will be on me in ten seconds flat..."

Hando threw his towel away and sniffed. "They can fight over me," and set off stark naked after him.

"Post match relief massage coming up for some lucky boys," Terry observed with a nod to those not yet fixed up. "I'll have to work a bit harder. 'Hey, love, my back hurts...give us a rub, hey?" he said in a mock distress, making a wanking motion with his hand. I giggled gleefully, shouting at the screen. "You just got copped, ya bastard!"

That's when we turned the screen off. The fellas were re-emerging into the early evening light. Who wants to watch a screen when you have the real thing loping about in search of a post-match high?

 

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