Whingers of world unite

Bleedin' whingers, there are so many of them about in footy circles, these days, the Poms should be morals to win every World Cup.
The rest of the sporting world is catching up fast but the Poms invented whingeing and still guard the secrets of the craft closely. Just ask Pommy rah rah Clive Woodward. Or, don't even bother to ask him, he'll give you a spray on every conceivable vaguely-rugby topic, anyway.
A ranting Pom is not much of a worry, but the disease is spreading.
Australia has stuck its head up its collective sporting arse so we cannot see what a pack of spoilsports we have become.
In league, you had that pathetic excuse for a top-line coach Chris Anderson bleating about criticism, yet his flatline strategy was exposed week after week in the NRL competition.
Then you had him spewing because his son gets cut from the Cronulla playing ranks.
After the Australian side squeaks home in two tests to retain the Ashes, all of a sudden, the contentious selection of Anderson's pet Brett Kimmorley becomes a stroke of genius.
According to Anderson, there's nothing between Andrew Johns and Kimmorley.
Hang onto your favourite genital, true league fan, what shit is that? Johns's side Newcastle made the final eight, while Kimmorley's mob The Sharks ran near last.
About the only thing you could possibly say in the Cronulla half's defence for the poor comparative showing was the Knights had Michael Hagen as a mentor.
Who was that mug who coached Cronulla again?

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Australia's Wallabies coach Unsteady Eddie Jones wants to whinge about everything - referees, the Pommy coach, leaks to the media and people pointing out the Wallabies had been playing like bags of shit until that semi-final against the Fall-Blacks
Meanwhile, on Sydney's north shore and Brisbane's western suburbs when people congregate over cocktails the term "party mouth" is now known as "gregan mouth".
That's in honour of the Aussie rah rah captain who single-handedly took on the sledging role vacated by the whole Aussie cricket side - for maybe six months or so.
In that time, Steve Waugh should realise that even people who like him think he is a bit of a prick so he and the rest of the baggy-greeners might as well prove them right

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Of course, the biggest whingers of the lot are the macho bed-wetting cross-dressing public school graduates who hate sharing the game played in heaven with us Bevans.
The Bash watched almost every game of the World Cup and does not mind admitting to enjoying them muchly.
But I have absolutely no interest in learning all 400 of their stupid rules.
I couldn't give a toss what a truck and trailer is other than to make a quiet observation.
I bet the rah-rah mob would have never named a term after anything to do with long haul until they found out heaps of Pommy lorry drivers listen to Queen on the CD players and taperecorders in the cabins of their rigs.
The Village People are no doubt favourites among American truckers.
Gives a whole new complexion to the term "hauling arse", eh?

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As for these cross-dressers saying the game is better to watch than league, let them do the maths.
In 160 and more minutes of the two semi-finals, three tries were scored. That's in total, with the four teams unable to manage a try apiece.
The team which was unable to carry the ball home was England but that slight lack of initiative did not prevent the wan-skinned ones winning their semi easily.
The Bash thanks you sincerely, fruity rah-rah snobs, for bunging on some entertaining footy.
And as for that amazing final? Even in victory the Poms still sounded like whingers. I guess they know no other way.
Cop-u-lata.
The Bash