‘He who controls himself, controls the game’….the tat says it all really.
21 March 2013
I seem to be appearing in the press quite a bit recently. Normally I quite like that. Wait, who am I kidding…I friggin love it! But this time it’s my reffing and not my sexuality that’s being questioned, and I just won’t stand for that shit.
I’m probably the best flippin ref in the world today. At the very least it’s a tie with that Saffa with the weird name, but he’ll probably be tried for attempted murder or robbery by the end of the year leaving me top dog again.
It’s bloody ridiculous thinking I favoured the red team on Saturday. I don’t even know who they were. I didn’t penalise the guys in white any more than necessary. Except the scrum-half Ben Youngs. His hair was just plain silly – he’s lucky I didn’t send him straight to the bin. I can’t stand people who don’t take care of themselves, it’s just bloody selfish if you ask me.
So it looks like I’m gonna have to defend myself against the IRB, whoever the hell they are! Maybe there’ll be some good looking girls on the panel.
That would be nice.
‘What would Cartman do?’ – the philosophy on which Walsh bases most of his reffing decisions.
12 March 2013
Not much on today, so watched replay of the England vs Ireland match from last weekend. Crikey it was cold that day, so cold you could see the steam coming off the bodies of the players. It looks great on the tele though, it’s like something you’d see in a movie. I think I should be in a movie.
I don’t like reffing in the cold, but my tan looked good. Especially when in the same shot as those pasty Irish. I wonder if people noticed that? If I could change one thing about my body it would be my fat ankles. Jimmy Cordax used to tease me about them in school. There’s a word for them isn’t there…is it cankles? Yes cankles, I must wikipedia that later. Maybe there’s a treatment for them.
After the match I decided to go to the gym. On the way I stopped in at the cafe with the pretty cashier to pick up a soya mochachino. I think that cashier likes me. I like me, so why wouldn’t she? I don’t go to Starbucks anymore. Not until they start paying those Costa Rican farmers a decent wage. Is it the Costa Ricans or Nicaraguans?! Who cares…all I know is I don’t like seeing the little guy getting trod on. Not on my watch!
While waiting for the coffee some chump decided to jump the queue. I sorted that shit out though. I never leave home without my whistle, so I blew him up for an intentional offside violation. Made him stand in the corner for 10 minutes while I chatted-up the cashier. We’ll see if he tries that little stunt again. Not likely.
Not on Walsh time.
Steve Walsh….he knows where you live. Not really.
Ever since Mark Lawrence and his three day stubble retired from refereeing test rugby, Steve Walsh has had his eye on rugby’s sexiest metrosexual title. While we applaud his use of noveau-wave hair style, we were a bit concerned about some of the comments that were picked up on the on-the-field microphone and whether or not these will affect his public persona:
On 33 mins: (to De Villiers whilst showing him his tattoo) – “Can you speak Mandirin, Jean? No? Then shut the f^$k up!”
On 51 mins: (to Hartley) – “Who produced The Flaming Lips second album? No, nothing?… … Yellow card.”
On 68 mins: (at the breakdown) – “England… leave it! I want to see if Spies will actually do anything if he is given the ball. Leave it!”
On 71 mins: (to Spies) – ‘Take that f$%king headband off your head son. You’re not fooling anyone. What are you pretending to be? Someone hard? We all know you haven’t been through a “thing”. You’ve just been standing two paces off the ruck pretending to look involved.”