Going Live...

Monday was a day off from the grind and our usual ahem posting frenzy as our evil employer overlords had devised an off-site event designed to make us more happy, efficient and productive wage slaves. Well that was the idea, but we reckon they’ll still keep slipping the ‘happy juice’ into the coffee machines to avert the forthcoming revolution.

We have to mention the Max Mosely scandal simply because when that sort of thing comes along, you can’t not, especially when the head of a respectable multi-million pound sporting cash cow high octane motor sport is caught in a Nazi orgy of spanking shame (copyright News of the Screws 2008). Whatever next? A Premiership manager caught on mobile phone camera giving some dozy tart one over a car bonnet ...ah oops.

Anyway the point of that rather long and rambling intro is that we spurters were live at a real sporting event on Sunday for the first time in absolute ages and feel all the more virtuous for it. Rather than settle back to watch it on the goggle box with a beer, instead we attended in person as London Irish took on Bristol in the Guinness Premiership at the Madejeski.

Now Mrs Spurt is a new convert to the rugger and was hooked by the meaty on-pitch violence and swift passing and running at last year’s World Cup, so it seemed like an ideal day out particularly since we live within walking distance and IT IS A LEAGUE SPONSORED BY GUINNESS.

What a revelation. Reasonable ticket prices, a great atmosphere, rival supporters happily co-existing side by side and even heaven forfend, applauding skilful play by the opposition. Great entertainment on the pitch too and a good time had by all: in short all the things we used to enjoy about footy before it sold out to the money men. Footy you have been warned....

World of stupid... Rugger Buggers...

And so to Friday and just a few short hours now until we’re freed up to drink ourselves into Friday night oblivion to try and forget after another week slaving in the salt mines of The Man.

Slightly disconcerting news from the strange world of rugby last night as hot England prospect Danny Cipriani has been dropped from Saturday’s clash against the Sweaties, after being papped leaving a nightclub on Wednesday emphasis on the quotes “in the early hours of the morning”.

Turns out young Danny boy was actually dropping off some tickets to the game for a mate at ten past twelve, didn’t drink in the club and was tucked up in bed within the hour. Several ex-players and his Wasps coach Shaun Edwards immediately leapt to his defence.

But no wonder he’s been banned say we. This is surely conduct unbecoming according to the rugby Neanderthals we occasionally encountered in our youth, who’d account it a disgrace if they hadn’t drunk themselves nearly unconscious, indulged in several bouts of homo-erotic grappling and imbibed at least a pint of each others bodily fluids the night before a game.

We know it’s a different game nowadays and this seems especially harsh on the talented young fly-half, even if he does have some rather unusual previous, allegedly bedding an ex-man woman.

Still, perhaps it proves England coach Brian Ashton’s a touch more old school than we thought?

Anyways, elsewhere there’s a veritable sport-a-thon to enjoy this weekend, with umpteen hours of Six Nations action to enjoy, a full round of televised FA cup glory and England probably narrowly escaping defeat at the hands of the sheep worriers. Top quality and Mrs Spurt is sure to be royally neglected this weekend. Sorry love.

Toodle pip! A spurting weekend to you all.