Monthly Archives: May 2014

Fawlty Towers…Giro Numero Dieci…(Round 10)…


Italian Correspondents Contessa BYRD, Signora MANSKI and Contessa UNCLE EV have a Torquay weekender holiday organised for our footy coaches.

faulty towers pic

Newly appointed AFL CEO Gillon “McMoron” McLachlan decided to send all six coaches’ – Geelong – Chris (Beam Me Up Scotty) Scott, Greater Western Shitney – Leon (King of Leon) Cameron, West Coast – Adam (Go West!) Simpson, Hawthorn – Alistair (Angry Little Man) Clarkson, Gold Coast Bums – Guy (Sly) McKenna, and Carlton – Mick (The Wise One) Malthouse to an all expenses paid weekend retreat to a hotel in the seaside town of Torquay.
The gateway of the Great Ocean Road. South Geelong.
Arriving at 8:00am to hotel Fawlty Towers on a wet, cold and miserable Saturday morning, all six coaches approached the reception desk for check in. The coaches’ were met by the rude and put upon owner – Basil Fawlty, screaming at the Spanish Waiter – Manuel, his bossy wife – Sybil and a comparatively normal chambermaid Polly.
“Welcome to Fawlty Towers gentleman, we sincerely hope your stay will be a memorable one. Manuel will show you to your rooms, won’t you Manuel?” Quizzed Basil nervously.
“Che?” Manuel replied awe struck by the coaches’ athletic appearance.
“Sorry he’s Spanish”. Basil shouting: “Manuel! ROOMS NOW! RA’PIDO! COMPRENDE!”
“Ah si Signor.” Eventually realizing what he had to do. “This way, follow me, up these stairs”. Smiled Manuel.
“What? No lifts?” Whined Alistair Clarkson.
Rolling his eyes Mick Malthouse retorted: “Stop your whining, you could do with some exercise.”


Meeting at the hotel restaurant for dinner, all six coaches’ witnessed a frantic Basil Fawlty running in and out of the kitchen panic stricken. Stopped by his wife Sybil, she questions: “Basil dear, are you not going to tell these gentleman of the specials on the dinner menu tonight?”
“I was just doing it, you stupid woman. I just put it down, to come here to be reminded by you to do what I’m already doing. I mean what is the point in reminding me to do what I’m already doing? I mean, what is the bloody point? I’m doing it aren’t I?” Fumed Basil.
After taking their orders, Chris confesses to the other coaches’: “My twin brother Brad always says the same thing to me whenever I try to give him some coaching advice.”

GWS (God! What Slobs)

Leon Cameron was standing by reception waiting patiently to be served.
“Polly can you help me with this picture frame? I need a hammer. Where is Manuel?” Asked Basil.
Basil: “Look, uh, go get me a hammer.”
Manuel: “Uh, como?”
Basil: “Hammer.”
Manuel: “Hammer, oh, oh hamma sandwich?”
Basil: “Oh, do I have to go through this every time? Look a HAMMER.”
Manuel: “My Hamster?”
Basil: “ No, not your hamster. How can I knock a nail in with your hamster? Well…I could try; no it doesn’t…No I’ll get it. You come here and tidy. You know – tidy?”
Manuel: “Oh tidy. Si.”
Basil Fawlty walking away: “Yes, I’ll get hkhammer and hkit you on the hkead with it hkard.”
Leon Cameron eventually walked away from reception laughing hysterically.

West Coast

With the unrelenting rain still pelting down, the foul weather kept all of the coaches’ unwillingly indoors.
Adam Simpson was reading the morning paper, as he overheard the following:
“Are you going to the car?” Asked Sybil.
“In a moment my little piranha fish.” Teased Basil Fawlty.


“God I’m bored. What is the point in all this? What a waste of a weekend.” Moaned Alistair Clarkson to Mick, Guy, Adam, Leon and Chris as they were doing stretching exercises by the stairwell at the foyer of the hotel. Alistair continuing: “I’m actually about to undergo an operation.”
Mick Malthouse snaps: “Oh Yes. How is the old toenail? Still growing in hmm? Still burrowing its way down to the bone? Still macheteing its way through the nerve aye?”
“That was a bit harsh mate”. Replied Leon Cameron.
“I know, better that than a fist in his face.” Smiled Mick.

Gold Coast Bums

Guy McKenna and crew were once again united at the hotel restaurant with his pals having a meal. What else is there to do? Can’t exactly go for a jog, the lawns outside resemble a swimming pool.
Excitedly Basil Fawlty with poor Manuel by his side skips towards the table hoping to whet the coaches’ appetites.
Basil Fawlty: “So, uh, this is your new menu.” Manuel with his pen and note pad ready, nervously looking on.
Guy McKenna reading the menu: “Duck with orange; duck with cherries; duck surprise.”
Chris Scott: “What’s duck surprise?”
Basil Fawlty: “Er…that’s duck without orange or cherries.”
Mick Malthouse clearly annoyed: “I mean, is there all there is – duck?”
Basil Fawlty: “Umm…yes…done, of course, in three extremely different ways.
Alistair Clarkson miffed: “And what do we do if we don’t like duck?”
Basil Fawlty: “Ah, well, if you don’t like duck, uhhh you’re all rather stuffed.”


Mick Malthouse decided he could no longer take this anymore; he rounded up the other coaches’ and convinced them to pack their belongings and immediately call a taxi.
Basil Fawlty was at reception rudely answering the phone, Sybil was applying her flaming red lipstick using the hallway mirror, Polly was quietly humming to herself as she was feather dusting the reception area, finally Manuel walks and trips on to the bear rug, toppling over the silver tray he was carrying, dropping the decanter and spilling the entire contents of 80 year old malt Scotch whiskey on to the floor.

Basil Fawlty: quietly: “This is typical. Absolutely typical…of the kind of…”
Basil Fawlty was now shouting: “ARSE I have to put up with from you people!
You ponce in here expecting to be hand…waited on hand and foot, while I’m trying to run a hotel here! Have you any idea of how much there is to do? Do you ever think of that? Of course not! You’re all too busy sticking your noses into every corner, poking about for things to complain about, aren’t you? Well let me tell you something – You lot are a bunch of layabouts with nothing else better to do than to cause trouble!
Well, I’ve had fifteen years of pandering to the likes of you, and I’ve had enough!
Come on, pack your bags and get out!”



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Hogwarts Express…Giro Numero Nove e’ Tre Quattro…(Round 9 and 3/4)…‏

DGES WORLD FAMOUS FOOTY TIPPING COMP tipstresses (and our Italian Correspndents) Signora BYRD, Contessa MANKSI and Signora UNCLE EV invite you for the ride of your lives as you journey from platform 9 and 3/4 to discover round 9 and 3/4.


The footy world is in urgent need of wizardry magic.
The AFL crew reluctantly head towards Southern Cross Station platform 9 and ¾.
The Docklands – Hogwarts express is to depart at 11:00 am sharp.
As the players and their coaches’ approach the station, there is a ritual that must take place before boarding the train. In order for someone to get onto platform 9 and ¾ for their long journey ahead, each individual must walk directly towards a solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten.
For best results, do it as a bit of a run through when heading towards the brick wall.
Nestled inside lush surroundings in Melba Gully, Docklands – Hogwarts is a huge rambling quite scary looking castle with jumble of towers.
The castle has extensive grounds with sloping lawns, flowerbeds and vegetable patches a loch called the black lake, a large dense forest called the forbidden forest and a full size Quidditch pitch.
Waiting inside the entrance hall, Head Master Professor Albus Dumbledore and Head Mistress Minerva McGonagall bid the AFL boys and crew welcome. Followed by a brief induction and the rules of the establishment by Professor Dumbledore, afternoon tea is
served and then straight on to the pitch for lesson in spells and to participate in Muggle Quidditch.


The land of the dark Lord, he who must no be named…Oh bugger it Voldermort!
No time to waste, the first session was already in progress, defense against the dark arts by Professor Severus Snape. Quizzing the new recruit Eddie (Not so Snug’s) Betts on the Qudditch field: “What spell would you use to protect your ducks from the dark Lord?” Challenged Snape.
“Err… umm…its Crows Professor…umm…Abracadabra?” Panicked Betts.
“It seems despite your exhaustive defense strategies, you still have a bit of a security problem. Expellarmus you twit! This spell is used to disarm another player, typically by causing the player’s football to fly out of reach.”


Always vigilant, from his quarters Professor Dumbledore could see Professor Snape angrily swathing his black robe as he walked towards Bomber Thompson who already looked bored.
“Well? Anything you would like to add?” Hissed Snape.
“Evanesco”! Makes Shitney vanish.” Bomber Thompson replied.
“Go on” continued Snape moving closer towards Bomber Thompson staring directly in to his eyes.
“There is also the “Impedimenta (Impediment Curse)” this powerful spell Professor is capable of tripping, freezing, binding, knocking back and generally impeding the target’s progress.” Concluded Thompson.
“Locomotor Mortis!” Snape angrily casts his wand to Thompson. Locking his legs together, preventing him from moving his legs in any fashion.




Avid fans of this wizardry sport, on the Qudditch pitch; Paul (Lose) Roos and his Demons began to practice Muggle Qudditch. At each stand, three hooped goal posts, each at different height. Roos has already chosen his Chasers, Beaters, one Keeper and one Seeker. The Quaffle is thrown in to mid air, while the beaters knock the Bludgers with their wooden clubs.
Aiming for the Golden Snitch, Roos dives in and out in the air across the pitch with his rented broomstick, eventually catching the Golden Snitch
“Well done! Excellent!” Professor McGonagall clapping her hands excitedly. “You don’t need any spells when you play Richmond, you are all truly gifted.”
“We know Professor.” Winked Roos at the Professor as she was blushing uncontrollably.

North Melbourne

“Stupefy!” echoed Brad (Not So Beam Me Up Scotty) Scott to Jonathan (Lost in Translation) Brown as he was walking by. “It’s not working! Why is this spell not working?” Brad was puzzled. Brad fuming: “Jonno should be in an unconscious state. I don’t get it!”
“It’s in his genes Born and bred.” Affirmed Snape. “Try this instead. The Freezing Charm it renders players immobile.”


“Hey Fellas I read about this spell, “Incacrcerous”. This spell ties Ross (Rampaging) Lyon up and his morons with ropes. I’m gonna use it on them now!” Insisted Chris (Beam Me Up Scotty) Scott to his Cats as they were nervously looking on.
Appearing from his invisibility cloak stolen from the hall of mirrors in Hogwarts, Rampaging Ross taps an unsuspecting Chris on his shoulder. “Try some of this Christopher! “Langlock!”
Gluing Chris’ tongue to the roof of his mouth.

Gold Coast Bums

“We don’t need any spells with this lot, Nick (DikilLeaks) Riewoldt and Alan (I regret this move now!) Richardson is bloody useless.” Laughed Gary (Gazza the Dazzler) Ablett with his bums.
“Let’s go to the “ Three Broomsticks Inn” for some Butter beer and Fire whiskey.

The retreat is now over; hopefully the teams have discovered something new and will use their skills in magic in a responsible fashion.
Packing their trunks with their belongings, making their way back to Hogwarts station, Professor Albus Dumbledore with Professor Minerva McGonagall and Professor Severus Snape by his side left a closing statement:
“I thank you all for coming to Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. May your brief stay here have made you all wise and appreciate our world of magic.
Use your skills wisely and most importantly sensibly.
I shall leave you all with this message.
It is important to fight and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then can evil be kept at bay though never quite eradicated”.


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The subs bench erupts after the Ryder goal seals the match


Brisbane v Essendon – The subs bench erupts after the Ryder goal seals the match.


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Mick (Indiana Jones) Malthouse and The Missing Idol. Giro Numero Otto…(Round 8)…

DGES WORLD FAMOUS FOOTY TIPPING COMP tipstresses Signora BYRD, Contessa MANSKI and Signora UNCLE EV have cast archaeologist Mick Malthouse to solve the puzzles in GIRO NUMERO OTTO (Round 8) of the DGES WORLD FAMOUS FOOTY TIPPING COMP.

TIPSMASTER’s NOTE: I’m not sure about Mick Malthouse being an archaeologist but he sure is a dinosaur…



An archeologist Indiana Jones Mick (The Wise One) Malthouse braves an ancient booby-trapped temple in the dark dirty and dingy forests of Shitwood and retrieves a golden idol, the AFL 2014 Premiership Cup. Arch rival archeologist Collingmaguireddie and his ruthless tribe confront him. Surrounded and outnumbered, Mick is forced to surrender the idol and escapes aboard a waiting taxi. Mick returns to his teaching position, sport journalism, where two AFL intelligence agents Andrew (Gaddafi) Demetriou and Gillon (McMoron) McLachlan interview him. Andrew and Gillon inform Mick “Indiana Jones” that Collingmaguireeddie and his vicious tribe are obsessed with the idol, they will stop at nothing to reclaim that once belonged to them.
The golden idol is now buried deep inside a well surrounded by a vortex of flame inside the temple of doom – Shitwood.
The agents “Gaddafi and “McMoron” authorize “Indy” to recover the golden idol before it is permanently mounted never ever to be seen in the sacred Kingdom of AFL again.


Advancing towards Alistair (Angry Little Man) Clarkson who was drinking beer with Buddy (The Sheikh) Franklin at a local pub somewhere in Shitney, “Indy” Mick aims, cracks his whip flinging Buddy’s beer out of his hand announces: “You want to talk to God? Let’s go and see him together, I’ve got nothing else better to do.”
“I swear I don’t know where the idol is?” Buddy trembling, rubbing his swollen lip. Alistair cowardly aims for the door. Mick “Indy” instantly cracks his whip causing Alistair to fall face down on to the ground. “Well? What have you to say? Where is it?” “Indy” Mick sneering, Alistair began quivering, stammering: “I dunno maybe Kinky Ken struck a deal with Buck’s, before heading back to Adelaide Oval. The idol is not with us mate! Go and see him! Now bugga off and leave us alone!”

Port Adelaide

Arriving at Adelaide Oval, “Indy” Mick slowly removes his signature hat, flexing his whip ready for attack, grinning: “Gday! Kenneth something you wish to hand over?”
“What a fitting end to your football pursuits mate. You are about to become a permanent addition to this archeological find. Who knows? In a thousand years even you may be worth something.” Snorts Ken (Kinky) Hinkley walking away from “Indy” Mick with his team laughing
Feeling accomplished smarmy Ken retorts: “So once again, Indy what was briefly yours is now mine!”
Fuming, “Indy” Mick grabs Kinky Ken in a tight headlock, shoving his fat head inside a disused locker.

Knocking on the entrance door of the Gabba, still searching for that elusive golden idol “Indy” Mick was now feeling the heat from the AFL intelligence agents (Gaddafi and McMoron). Time is rapidly running out. “Indy” Mick was prepared to do anything. Comforting words to an old friend might just do the trick.
“You and I are very much alike. Football is our religion, yet we have both fallen from the pure faith in the game. Our methods have not differed as much as you pretend. I am but a shadowy reflection of you. It would take only a nudge to make you like me. To push you out of the light”
“Now you’re getting nasty!” Fumed Bomber Thompson slamming the door shut in “Indy” Mick’s face.

Western Bulldogs

Inside Hugh Trumble Café’ at the MCG sipping his usual latte’, Brendan (Macca) McCartney was going through his notes ready for his encounter with the Demons. From a distance “Indy” Mick identified something glistening.
“Now, what’s that supposed to be coming out of there? Lightning? Fire? The power of God or something? Not in the Doggies life time Macca. Hand it over. Now!” “Indy’s” Mick whip at the ready.
“Wait! Wait! I can be reasonable! Pleaded Brendan.
“That time has passed.” Raged ‘Indy” Mick.
“I’ll tell you everything!” Begged Brendan.
“Yes I know you will.” Confirmed “Indy” Mick forming his whip in to a noose.”

West Coast Eagles

“Oh my friend! I’m so please you’re boys are still in the top eight. Your persistence surprises me. “You’re going to give mercenaries a bad name”. Heckled “Indy” Mick to Adam (Go West!) as Simpson was taking his morning run around Paterson Stadium.


“Psss Take this! “Indy” Mick whispered handing over the golden idol to Chris (Judo) Judd during his weekly Physio session inside VISY gymnasium.
Baffled Chris confessed: “The two AFL intelligence Agents are on their way here, bloody Macca told them about your visit, he told them everything! Jesus! They’re already here!” Panicked Chris.

“Indy” Mick unwillingly confronts the two intelligence agents (Demetriou and McLachlan) McLachlan snatches his beloved whip from his grip.
“Give me the whip!” Seethes “Indy” Mick.
Demetriou shouted: “Throw me the idol. No time to argue! Throw me the idol, I’ll throw you the whip!”

From behind Judo Judd gives Gillon and Demetriou a massive karate chop, bangs both their heads together knocking them out cold, throws back “Indy” Mick’s whip, finally escaping through the back door with the golden idol.




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The Black Adder

Find our what DGES WORLD FAMOUS FOOTY TIPPING COMP tipstresses (and our Italian Correspondents) SIGNORA BYRD, CONTESSA MANSKI and SIGNORA UNCLE EV have in store for us as they revisit THE BLACK ADDER for this round’s footy tips.

La vipère noire


The Black Adder!…Giro Numero Sette…(Round 7)…


AFL Football has come to known many great liars, Gary Ablett Senior, Wayne Carey, Brendan Fevola, Jimbo Hird. (Hirdy is showing a sign which reads “St. Sheedy the liar!”)
But there has been none quite so vile as the Count – Andrew “Gaddafi” Demetriou.
It was he who rewrote history and the rules of the AFL administration portraying his replacement, Prince – Gillon “McMoron” McLachlan as a deformed maniac, who tried to banish Demetriou by throwing him off the tower of the AFL Headquarters. Demetriou also claimed to have won the battle of the Docklands. Again the truth is very different for it was, the Duke of Fitzpatrick “Fitzy” who reigned for over ten years that has restored peace and harmony back in to the Kingdom of Docklands.
All is revealed in the first chapter of the AFL history before told: the story of the Black Adder! – Count Andrew “Gaddafi” Demetriou and his long-suffering assistant Baldrick (Tony “Geek”) Peek.


Count Andrew “Gaddafi” Demetriou to Baldrick (Tony “Geek” Peek) as he’s munching on a decomposed rat: “Have you ever been to Collingmaguirevomitshitwood Baldrick?”
Baldrick (Tony) choking on the rat’s fur splutters: “No me Lord, but I’ve often thought I’d like to.”
Count Demetriou shuddering in disgust: “Well don’t! It’s a ghastly place. Huge gangs of tough sinewy men roam the streets, terrorizing people with their bloody anthem! You need half a pint of phlegm in your throat just to pronounce the players names. Never ask for any directions in Collingmaguirevomitshitwood Baldrick. You will be washing spit out of your hair for a fortnight.”


Lady Caroline “Caro” Wilson of Brunswick stormed pass Count Demetriou and Baldrick heading outside the court yard of her residence, the Tower of Balwyn after the Earl Nick (Dikileaks) Riewoldt and Sir Luke (Fluked!) Hodge waved her away refusing her advances.
Baldrick (Tony) bewildered asked: “What’s wrong with her me Lord?”
Count Demetriou pretending to be Lady Caroline Wilson of Brunswick stomping his feet mimicking: “Get me more coffee! It’s horrid, change it! Where’s my mirror! Where’s my maid! Where’s my dinner! Walk the dog! Where’s my present?”
Baldrick was very shaken by this sudden outburst trembles: “All right! Me Lady. Which one do you want me to do first?”


Port Adelaide

Baldrick (Tony) confused by this unlikely barbaric jousting between the two loathsome shires (GWS and Port Adelaide) battling at the Star track Arena quizzes an already annoyed Count Demetriou as he was sharpening his sword.
“Mr. D! Where’s the milk of human kindness in this?” Picking off his scab from his cheek, flicking it in the air, scab unintentionally landing inside Count Demetrious’ mouth as he was yawning.
“It’s gone off Baldrick!” threatening to spear him with his 10 inch sword. “It stinks!” The Count continuing: “In fact Baldrick, there is something I made for you.”
Baldrick taken aback bowing to the Count: “Ah, well that’s the best kind of gift Mr. D. What is it?”
Count Demetriou raging: “It’s a fist! It’s for hitting people with.” punches Baldrick “And the great thing is, you can use it again and again!” Hits Baldrick again.


Prince Gillon “McMoron” McLachlan is thrilled with the elite Shire of Melbourne conceivable victory. Cavorting around the drawing room adjusting his ill-fitting white wig certifies to the Duke of Fitzpatrick “Fitzy”: “ It will be a great day tomorrow for we nobles.”
The Duke “Fitzy” was not buying it, affirming: “Well, not if the Shire of Melbourne lose, Gillon. If we lose, I’ll be chopped to pieces. My arms will end up in Merry Creek, my torso in Werribee Mansion and my genitalia stuck up in a tree somewhere in Albert Park!”


Prince Gillon “McMoron” McLachlan gestures to the Duke of Fitzpatrick “Fitzy” the following: “Jonathan (Lost in Translation) Brown, this is the man who’ll be providing tomorrow’s entertainment.”
“Ah the eunuch!” Laughed the Duke of Fitzpatrick. “Delighted to meet you, there’s a groat for the troubles!”
The Prince in a strangled high-pitched voice imitating Jonathan: “I am not a eunuch!”
The Duke: “You sound like one to me!”
The Prince in a normal voice: “ I am not a eunuch, I am the Prince of Docklands!”
The Duke sarcastically retorts: “Oh you are, are you!?” The Duke then turns to Lady Caroline Wilson of Brunswick continues: “ Same old story eh?” the Duke of Docklands is as Scottish as Caroline Wilson of Brunswick’s breasts (realizes) “Och, nae offence, your Lady”.


A reluctant Baldrick (Tony) along with Count Demetriou approaches Friar “Bomber” Thompson outside the ruins of his monastery – Windy Hill. The Friar’s guzzling wine from his barrel, startled he sees the men heading his way. Nervously the Friar offers a goblet of his home brew to his uninvited guests. Unrolling the scroll with what appeared to have Jimbo’s name on it, Count Demetriou angrily snaps: “Look at this, what is it?”
Baldrick: “I’m surprised you’ve forgotten my Lord.”
The Count yells back: “I haven’t forgotten! It’s a rhetorical question.”
Baldrick amuses: “Nah, It’s a potato.”
Friar Thompson clears his throat: “Ahem…to you, It’s a potato. To me he’s a potato. But to Sir bloody Paul Little, it’s fine carriages, luxury estates and as much money he can swindle! He’s making a fortune out of this. Damn swine!”

North Melbourne

“Truth is, I don’t know the way to the Cape of Etihad” Confesses Gary (Gazza the Dazzler) Ablett to Count Demetriou standing in front of the ship’s wheel of the HMS Viper.
The Count shocked: “Good Lord! What are you going to do?”
Gazza scratching his 10 million dollar baldhead decides: “What I usually do, sail around the Isle of Victoria harbor until everyone’s dizzy and then head for home!”
“You rascal, still who cares?” belittled the Count adjusting his collar, adding: “So you don’t know the way to Docklands either?”
“Afraid not.” Shamefully admitted Gazza walking away with his head down.
The count turns to Baldrick (Tony) who is now feasting on a decayed mackerel sighs in defeat: “Bugger!”

“The path of Damien (Hardly!) Hardwicke’s life and his nincompoops is strewn with cowpats from the Devil’s own satanic Herd.” Bickered Count Demetriou shuddering at the mere thought of a victory from the Black and Yellow troops.
“Quite my Lord!” Baldrick (Tony) firmly acknowledged.

West Coast

“Fortune vomits on eiderdown once again with these pick pocketing wretched scoundrels from the West!” decreed Baldrick (Tony), shocking the Count spitting out his wine by Baldrick’s sudden articulacy.
“And with that my dear Baldrick, with such acuteness, you have hit the nail straight on the head. Good man!” Validated Count Demetriou.

Impressed with Baldrick’s (Tony) sudden verve, Count Demetriou encourages Baldrick to lodge in an application contesting the seat as the Commissioner of the AFL representing the Kingdom of Docklands.


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Vale Tom Hafey



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by | May 14, 2014 · 9:36 am


DGES WORLD FAMOUS FOOTY TIPPING COMP tipstresses and our ITALIAN CORRESPONDENTS, BYRD, CONTESSA MANSKI and UNCLE EV have been choreographing the pre-match entertainment for the AFL GRAND FINAL.

Tipsmaster’s note: I feel this will be X-RATED so we may need a Night Grand Final so the pre-match stuff can go on after the kiddies have gone to bed…

Original Cinema Quad Poster - Movie Film Posters

Six once successful AFL football coaches – Kevin (I’m so sorry now!) Sheedy – James (The Fugitive) Hird – Mark (Back from the dead) Neeld – John (Here’s Johnny!) Worsfold – Michael (Was the boss) Voss, and Scott (Muddy) Watters were all laid off from their coaching jobs.
Sheedy is in a dilemma, he can no longer keep up with his payments to his costly and extravagant wife, Hirdy still on the run from the big guns, Neeld still the nomad, Worsfold incredibly bitter over his forceful resignation, Voss is no longer calling the shots, last but not least Watters is peeved about his premature termination.
In short, all these men are used goods.
One evening, Hirdy notices a group of women lined up outside the “Bogan Bingo Club” in Collingmaguirevomitshitwood. Jimbo gets the idea to form his own strip tease group using his so-called mates hoping to acquire some respect from the ex coaches along with the AFL world and beyond.
Jimbo has a dream….

Perform live at the 2014 AFL Grand Final.

Remember punters, Meatloaf wasn’t a goer.

The men were finally converted. After a furious and lengthy debate, the five men (Hirdy, Neeld, Worsfold, Voss and Watters) hold an open audition to recruit one more member and settle for an older gentleman who is nevertheless a good dancer – Sheedy.
Jimbo and crew declares to Sheedy that their show will be much better than the Chippendales dancers at the “Bogan Bingo Club”, because they will go the full Monty.
Sheedy was shocked with this admission; the prospect of going stark naked terrified him.
Kevin was forcefully held back by Neeld to avoid giving Hird a blow to his head, Sheedy confesses:
“Anti-wrinkle cream there may be, but anti-fat tosser cream there is not!”
St Kilda
“So, uh, Sheedy…what can you do?” Curiously Worsfold, Watters, and Voss nervously enquired, Hirdy and Neeld were preparing the music on the IPod dock, waiting for a miracle.
Shrugging his shoulders Sheedy responds: “I dunno, really…Let’s see, there’s, the uh…the bump, the stomp, the bus stop…me break dancing days are probably over, but there’s always the funky chicken.

During rehearsal, inside the local school gymnasium, there was no other way but to strip naked in front of each other to come to terms with their own nudity and what they all had agreed to do.
The show must go on, regardless until Voss shattered all their confidence with this bombshell:
“Well, I pray, the AFL is a bit more understanding about us, that’s all.”
“You what!!?” Sheedy fumed concealing his gems with his scarf.
“Well they’re all going to be looking at us like that, eh? I mean what if on Grand Final day all these people will turn around and say, “He’s too fat, he’s too old, and he’s a pigeon chested toe rag.” What happens then eh?”

Gold Coast Bums
Still completely au naturel, eventually all six ex coaches composed themselves hoping to bust some moves during this endless if not tedious rehearsal. Sheedy, Neeld, Worsfold, Watters and Voss staring at each other confused, not sure as to what to do next.
“We want to know about dancing, that’s all.” Watters was crabby, his patience had all but ran out.
“Dancers have coordination, skill, timing, fitness and grace. Fellas take a long hard look in the mirror.” A holier-than-thou Jimbo shot back at the offended ex coaches, arrogantly and imperiously admiring his own reflection.

“Honestly, the less I eat the fatter I get!” Sheedy was defeated.
“So stuff yourself and get thin” Scoffed Neeld attempting to do the moon walk in front of the wall to wall gymnasium mirror, toppling back wards on top of Hirdy who was moronically worshipping himself buck naked in front of the mirror.

Apprehensively, Watters presents the image of the movie “Flash Dance” from his iPad to Hird, Sheedy, Neeld, Worsfold and Voss. Something had to give in order to boost the morale of these men, most importantly to avoid an all out brawl.
“Oi! What is this?” Snapped Voss.
“It’s Flash Dance” Hirdy silently panicking, Watters nervously steps in: “Just look at the dance moves, to give us some ideas.”
“You have got to be kidding me? So now we’re all gonna be dancing starkers at the AFL Grand Final with black leg warmers as well?. “Bloody Hell!”
Disgusted, Voss began to put his clothes back on, making his way towards the exit of the gymnasium.
“I would rather chew on broken glass! No bloody way!” Roared Sheedy.
Feeling the pressure, Neeld and Worsfold briskly started to put their clothes back on.
“Stop! Please! For Christ Sakes!” Pleaded Watters.
In desperation, Jimbo gritting his teeth had no choice but to apologies for his obnoxious behavior, miraculously convincing the men to press on.

After a change of heart all six men proceeded to groove to the tune of “Rock and Roll Part 2” – Gary Glitter. Things were going pretty smoothly, Jimbo taking charge (as always) with the choreography, Without warning, shimmy Sheedy ever so slowly seductively began removing his belt, swings his belt in to the air unintentionally whacking Worsfold in the face. Voss is convulsing with laughter, without looking stumbles and stomps on Neeld’s toes, Jimbo and Watters suppressing their own laughter hastily stop the music, restoring calm persevering on to the next routine.

“You sexy thing” – Hot Chocolate is swiftly on the play mode on the faithful iPod dock in full volume, “The Six Choppendales” are now feeling free, confident and extremely liberated. Without a care in the world the six men were all grooving and crooning to “I believe in miracles…You sexy thing!”
Jimbo sees Watters creeping away from the others who are still dancing and singing. Astonished Jimbo demands: ” Watters what the hell are you doing?”
Watters desperately trying to find cover somewhere inside the gym whispers to a now paranoid Hirdy: “What’s it look like? Jesus! Security is on the prowl, I just saw their flashlight, We’re stuffed! Imagine this going out in to the public!”
‘Was that Security I just saw peering through the window with their torch? Feared Neeld with Voss, Worsfold, Sheedy all panic-stricken, afraid of being detected.

“All right now fellas, listen up” Soothed Hirdy, Continuing: “Carefully and quietly put your clothes back on, now is not the time to do this. I’ll meet you all at the back door. I’ve got the car ready.”
“Don’t you dare bugga us about Jimbo!” Yelled Sheedy, wrapping his scarf around his neck, otherwise me and the boys will make you disappear…Permanently!!”
With a sense of relief the men made a quick get away evading Security.

The following morning “The Choppondales” decided to meet up with big Kev (Sheedy) at his local Centre link, collecting payments, all the ex coaches patiently standing in a cue, On the music system none other then “Hot Stuff” – Donna Summer was blaring.
What a perfect way to rehearse their Grand Finale extravaganza.


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