Round 3 of the Aviva Premiership – Prima Nocta, Constipation and an Arsehole World Cup

Round three of the Aviva Premiership and we’ve all still got our dicks out. We went all over the world this weekend and yet some of the best fun was had at home. Here are four talking points worth remembering in case you need to sound like you know about rugby. Some bits weren’t great but let’s take the moral high ground: at least we’re not throwing pints at touch judges. I mean, you just wouldn’t would you? Have you seen the price of IPA at the Stoop?

Return of the Saints

Do you remember Tim Rodber? He held the record for being the most horrible man named Tim in the 1990s. He also played for Northampton and made them shittingly difficult to play against. That type of Saints team returned to the Gardens on Friday night and the home pack marauded and ransacked the Bath squad like they had prima nocta rights on any West Country wench. Sam Underhill played the role of William Wallace valiantly, until Northampton ended up breaking him too. Tom Collins looked very sparkly for Saints, they were raising a glass in his honour come full time: if only there was a drink named after him. Worried with Bath, they look beleaguered. Stop. Need more players. Stop. Send help. Stop. Please. Stop.

Bored in the USA

Falcons and Sarries Stateside and late on a Saturday night, there was lots of talk: steaks, Bermuda grass and the birthplace of Chris Wyles were all discussed, but not much rugby. Watching Newcastle is a little like being constipated; everything looks and feels like it’s in the right place but very little happens. Saracens did what they do and packaged up a tidy four points; Liam Williams and Billy Vunipola impressing, but not a lot else was gained from the adventure across the pond. Twitter snarked at the attempt to export Prem rugby and pointed at the lack of spectators at the game. Bloody good job I say; it was dull. We should have sent them Wasps/Quins.

A tale of two shits

Speaking of which: Wasps v Harlequins was a little bit like an ‘Arsehole World Cup’, what with the players assembled. And as if trying to decide the final, Joe Marler and James Haskell grappled on the turf at the Ricoh, and we all leant towards our tellies to get a better look. In an ill tempered game, which referee Andrew Jackson barely controlled, Marler dared to squirt water at Haskell (after a scrum cap altercation) and everyone’s favourite rugby DJ went full wife beater. A yellow card ensued but not before Haskell bleated like a prep school bully about how tough things were at home, what with his father being away all the time. Utterly delightful to see such a pair dance together; they should do it more often. Quins nabbed the game by the way, a cheeky Marcus Smith/Marland Yarde/Charlie Walker inspired win, and they kinda deserved it; John Kingston was delighted. Wasps defeated at home for the first time since they last lost at home.

223365_1.jpgA delighted John Kingston post match

Tigers best of bad bunch

Whilst there’s a tasty scrap at the top shaping up, the efforts of the bottom half to be less shitter than the others is utterly intriguing. Sale played well against Irish on Friday night, after being positively turd-like last weekend, and then Leicester dry humped their way through a Gloucester encounter. They won, yay, but only really by default. The Cherry and Whites would find it quite challenging to pour water out of a boot with the instructions written on the heel at the moment. Add Worcester to this group and your guess is as good as mine. C’mon you bunch of morons, get your shit together.

For those interested, here’s the table: talk amongst yourselves, we shall be back next week.

DylanDngTbl80x36S15_16x9.jpg

 

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