Rugby! Rugby??
What's the point of that then, it's not even a proper game, and it's certainly not played by proper men. It is, as I'm sure you'll agree, a badly patched up ball game designed to boost Barbour sales and provide a cover for latent (and blatent) homosexuality, bad dress sense and BO. Just the call alone "anyone going to Twickenham this weekend?" has deviants all over Surrey and Middlesex diving into public conveniences, stretching to the limit our already threadbare public services and marriage guidance facilities. No, the beautiful game is football I'm afraid.
I mean, have you been in the foyer at Twickenham lately, right there, in the middle, bold as brass, is a sculpture depicting two men wearing indecently short shorts, in very close contact, - and there's no easy way to say this, one of them actually has his head up the other ones arse! Christ alone only knows what goes on in the dressing rooms.
No, I'll be staying home and arranging my collection of victorian clay pipes, thank you.
H