Docking...


One of the beauty's of Europe is that it is the size of your average African dictatorship. Ahem, country. This lack of size, combined with an openess that would not be out of place in Fishhoek high school, makes air travel pretty easy.

Or should do. Luckily, it weighs in at a fairly reasonable price. Of course, I could probably save a few hundred orphans for the cost of a jaunt in Croatia, but what's in that for me. Unless, I were to tell girls about it to get laid. Which I'll probably do regardless - so let's stick with the travel plans.

Now. Air travel. On the cheap. Not too bad you're thinking. Of course it means having to give up airline food (more's the pity) and suffering possible DVT due to my knees being forced up around my ears in the standard 12inch seats. All this I'd be okay with.



But one thing I cannot abide by is the poor attempt at humour. Why, oh why, do they insist on making the same retarded jokes about redistributing your possessions amongst the crew if you leave them behind, about throwing smokers off the plane in mid-air, and about crash landings. Is there anyone else who thinks that every single one of these "cabin crew" are nothing more than failed actors who think my flying pleasure is nothing more than a goddamn stage?

Oh, and while I'm on the subject why is it that I have never seen a good looking air hostess? Outside of the movies, and South America - where all the women look like they do in movies. Hot.

Rockstars of the Moment...

This awards humble beginning has been escalated by the honours list of those that have earned it into an award cloaked in prestige and success. The recipients today embody these notions with pride.



After a mixed season of results the Squad were lucky to get into the finals of their league and their cricketing prowess reached it's zenith at the business end of the competition..!

Posting a defendable 127 against the formidable opposition, the Textiles and Merchant Union 8 (incumbent holders of the Foxriver River Pollsmoor league title) the Squad saw fit to pose for a photo between innings before they bowled out the plumbers and carpenters for less than a hundred.

Wear the medals with pride boys. Glory lasts for as long as you remember but the admiration of our keeper's sister (she is also a keeper) can't be forgotten.

Clear eyes, full hearts. Can't lose..!

Shut up porky...


This just stinks of shock value so I thought I would put it up.

Meet Jamison Stone. He is 11 and attends a small private christian school of about 40 children somehwere in (and I am guessing) the bible belt of the USA. His dad is an auctioneer and a proud Christian.

Jamison's claim to fame? He shot this, with this:



Oh goddam, look at the size of that pig and the hog he killed. It is ridiculous how big that hog is. It's the size of a friggan buffalo. Unbelievable. Apparently he shot at four piglets, killing on this one but missed the mother. Go check out the site http://www.monsterpig.com/ and read the father's comments on the site. Hilarious! He thanks the lord and quotes the scripture. It's like a blue bulls rugby camp.


Just an aside. I guessed they live in the bible belt but after closer photo analysis of the tractor picture I think they could live next door the M Night Shymalans Village.

You decide ...

Mmm....monday...

RSJL Article 16 The Approach

In a post I recently touched upon the important Subject of “The Approach”. The importance of this subject is so important it is followed around by inverted commas and capital letters wherever it goes…

Right now it is going nowhere. Because it is here with “You…”

To loosely define the Subject I work in close proximity with the Oxford Concise English dictionary. “To advance, move toward, loom or come within reach of an object with intention.” The object? A female…

There is one Golden Rule in regard to ‘Approaching’ a girl: “Never approach a girl...!”

If I was so naïve to believe you just mentally ingested that with less effort than an obese girl does a hotdog I would leave this article here and go home to watch Boston Legal reruns. Bingo

I am not going home. You need to know this..!

This Golden Rule was not just thought up willy-nilly by chance. It has been passed down for generations through oral history by our rockstar ancestors and is the key to getting laid, I mean, life. Which if you give it due consideration…is one and the same!

The GR is premised on a reality of life that is as eternal as death, taxes and nurses; that reality being that women have all the power. It stands to reason that because men find women more attractive than women find men and because men crave to get women naked and sweaty that women have the power to say No, and hence they have the power to determine when it happens legally, like it should despite satirical cartoons.

Hence, women are the prey of men yet the preyed upon determine when the feast is. But thankfully, like death, taxes and nurses, the wielding of power can be cheated. And the Golden Rule is the only way to beat Joe Black.

In a nutshell. The power of women is sourced from the inevitably of men approaching them. Pretty girls know that ogling men are going to proposition, approach and hunt them until the day they aren’t pretty anymore. Take away her multiply propositions, approaches and hunters and she is left standing at the bar in her sexy ‘I’m going to dance all night outfit’ alone. Bingo. Ball in her court.

You may deem it necessary to interject at this point exasperated at my lack of foresight at not realizing that since other guys are unaware of the Golden Rule she will continue to get hit on and be oblivious to your disregard. Relax little ones, that is to our advantage.

Since she was old enough to wear a training bra, our pretty young belter has realized that she stands provocatively in the spotlight of all men and she has never lacked being lavished with attention from every man under the sun. Hence being ignored to her is unheard of and she won’t believe it. She will deny the possibility. She will be indignant. She will be flabbergasted. She will be weak. And that is where we want it…

Before picking back up with where we want her I must stress the first addendum to the Golden Rule. The addendum qualifies your actions, and outlines your intention to her. The thing is she must understand that you have noticed her. She must realize you find her the most attractive girl in the room. She must realize you are confident and relaxed in being yourself. And she must realize that despite this, you still don’t harbour the inclination to make the first approach.

How you do this is fairly simple. If you get introduced by a mutual friend, perfect! Kindly make her acquaintance then back off and wait. She will size you up in 2 seconds. [see Chris Rock’s standup thoughts about how a women makes the call whether you’re husband material and whether she will sleep with you or not in the first 30 nanoseconds of meeting] Once she realizes you find her attractive yet won’t approach she is hooked. Bingo.

No introduction? Easy! Never underestimate the power of an eye fuck. Girls loving being appreciated. Don’t eye rape her, eye fuck her. Make her feel like you want her, but not that you want her more than anything.

Right, back to where we want her! (initially that is, I can’t skip to on all fours on your couch just yet). So she knows you’ve seen her and the shit is confused out of her as to why you aren’t like every guy. This is where she gets her power into play.

She starts to toss her long silky hair. She positions herself so she is facing you with her body but not directly. She makes eye contact and then extends her sight over your shoulder. She gets up and finds a reason to walk past your line of sight, like going to the bathroom, bar, chat to a friend or look for an earring under your chair. When these start happening you’re in the money and the iron is hot.

It is at this junction that I must reveal certain important information. The type girl in the scenario so far and what you want from her are two crucial variables that determine how you will “Approach” her. The girl and your intentions are like line and length when you determine which shot you choose to unleash from your AB arsenal during the final of your action cricket game next Tuesday. I am struggling with tense right now but I know that doesn’t faze you.

All the above information is premised on you wanting a ‘non-psychotic (as-femalely-possible)’ belter with a healthy lack of inhibition for a pleasurable night of hedonistic possibility. If you want a straight up crackwhore for some car park backseat action you can stop throwing caution to the wind and approach the girl in clear-heels because she is the type of girl that doesn’t require the hard work of anti-approaching. We shall return to types of girls later and it ties up with further issues.

We left off with a hot iron. She is tossing her hair like a bronco does man clad in chaps and a Stetson giving you the sultry eyes of passion. It is at this point that she is so fuming that you haven’t approached her that you sneakily step into her path so you make the step forward for her so much easier. How?

The mutual friend she just walked away from? Go strike up conversation and she will return like rain in a Cape Town winter. She has nearly finished her drink? Make your way to the bar. She looks at her glass and realizes perfect time to accidentally sidle up to gorgeous petulant aloof rockstar.

When she bites, and she will. Then just turn on the "yourself" button. The anti-approach is time consuming and requires patience. You have to be like Anthony Tuitavake hovering on the blindside wing waiting for Luke McAllister to forge the half gap. Patience, timing and hit the line at pace. She will be fully undressed bar the sexy heels perpetuating my bucking bronco metaphor from earlier in no time…

A few cautionary notes:

- Pick your target. You have to choose an outrageously belter girl. They’re the ones that will be most indignant about not being “Approached”. Averagely pretty girls are used to getting not noticed or blown off so she doesn’t have the confidence to think you actually have the balls to ignore her or to come to you and get rejected.

- The ‘ugly duckling’. This girl only started looking like Anna Barros in the most recent 25% of her life. She ISN’T used to get hit on and doesn’t think she is pretty. Therefore she also doesn’t have the confidence to fall prey to your suggestive luring.

- The full on slut. This girl will approach you without any aforementioned luring. She will come no matter what. Be wary! You want her to see how the CD shuffle works in the backseat of your GTI great! But if you’re not too partial to being unable to urinate without a burning sensation let her go on her way.

The kicker hypothetical exclusion:

I steer these waters with massive caution as I have never actually navigated them yet. As just expertly expounded to you our faithful readership the Golden Rule is subject to certain provisions. The most important is this hypothetical example: The Girl you do Approach.

Basically she is the showstopper of all belters and seems to bounce around the room like she is floating on a cloud and grounded like normal humans, or her elevated status could be as a result of her angel wings or the merely the justified pedestal she stands on. This girl you do approach, because she is so mind-numbingly hot she doesn’t get approached. Even the most cocksure false bravado percentage playas with stories of his black Ammex and Clifton villa don’t approach her because her beauty is so intimidating.

This girl you approach, because despite her showstopping looks she is humble and down to earth and normal because she has never been inundated with millions of idiots before you so doesn’t have the female power wall erected. Go for her…

I know it´s wrong ...

Oh wow monday...

No Comment...

Durban - Place to be 2 weekends in a row...

As Butch James windmill dummied his way over the line to score the try which essentially put the Sharks into the Super 14 final I sat in my seat with a giant hard on. I knew that it meant two fantastic weekends in a row for Durban. Now the semi (-final, not my hard on) weekend was good enough but my God this coming weekend is going to be a thriller. Potential cracker of a rugby game aside, if the festivities of the Saturday just passed are anything to go by, we are in for a jolly old time.

I was so happy on Saturday that much of it is a blur. I left my car at the stadium (private parking just outside the changerooms thanks to my old man's Natal rugby rockstar status) for the night and next thing Dougie Howlett and I were going off to Mr Brightside. I can't imagine it being as much fun with Gary Botha or one of the other boneheads we will be hosting this weekend.

Another highlight was Joe Cool's (yes it is now spelt with a "C") bouncers vs Blues pack. There was a little bit of niggle and the bouncers decided that its was time for Troy Flavell (the captain of the Blues for the odd female reader) to go. Things got a little physical and the Blues knuckled down, forming a rolling maul and shoving back inside. The bouncers subsequently decided that they were fighting a losing battle and decided to allow the boys from Auckland to stay.

Off to the South Coast Party Palace on Friday for a warm up and then its match day. Not only am I backing the Sharks but I'm also backing the Joe's bouncers later in the evening.

Spite: Obey your thirst for bitterness...

This may be heavily displaced in our modern society built on accepted norms of friendship, goodwill and a healthy dose of ubuntu. But...


As far as I am concerned I hope the Sharks and Bulls draw on saturday, and then draw again after extra-time and share the trophy so I can wake up on monday morning smiling that an SA rugby side has never won a Super Rugby trophy...

I wouldn't be so spiteful if we won action cricket last night but we last to a group of plumbers and I am upset...

Cause I can...

Pick him…

We received this email from friend, and rockstar family member, The Guv (or the Gav) and it seems to shed some light on the point of contention in the media at present:

“Why pick Luke Someone:

The question on everyones lips after the announcement of the 45 plus 1 Springbok squad for the pre-RWC warm up tests is why did they pick the short and incredibly stocky flanker, Luke Someone? The answers develops from a series of questions.

Why pick a player that is too short to play flank at Test Level?
Why pick this player if he isn’t strong enough to play prop at test level?
Why pick this player if he is too proud to play hooker at any level?
Why pick this player if he is not skilled enough to play flyhalf?
Why pick this player if he is too slow to play anywhere in the backline?

So what do you do with a short player that is strong but not strong enough, has a touch of pace but not nearly enough, can catch but chooses to never pass?

He is the perfect build to hold contact shields. He is strong enough to carry equipment for a squad of 45. He is close enough to the ground to fetch the bags from the hold underneath the bus. And he is quick enough to dash back to the changerooms to get the waterbottles, or to the fridge after the game to get the coach a beer!”

Yes Jake, sir! The bus is now full!!!

Appreciate the email Guv. You want to laugh your head off and read more. Check out the post on www.2oceansvibe.com about the saga. It's priceless...

Donkey Drop...

Last week the Rugby Club at which I coach found itself in a peculiar predicament in the U20 age group, particularly at the bottom end of the age group. You see the mighty ‘Cubs’ side, aka the (reach for a) D(ream) team had two problems.

Firstly they had been practising consistently over the last 9 week period since trials and had not had 1 official fixture, either preseason or league, to fulfil. They were scheduled to play on two occasions but the thieving C team stole that shot at a match as they were in the same Western Province boat, drifting up the SA Rugby stream sans a ‘fixture’ paddle.

The second hurdle that was retarding the Cubs’ escalation to rugby greatness was the inability of their formidable head coach from actually taking up his Lombardi position. The assistant coach has more enthusiasm than a hungry two-month old baby boy ogling the hardware at a strip club yet lacks the social and, possibly, mental capacity to do the job alone. But let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth as if reach for a dream were nice enough to sponsor a coaches aid we must receive it with gratitude and grace.

I was asked to step in where possible and lend any hand that I could in their preparation last week for the very exciting proposition of their inaugural fixture of the 2007 season. I darted across to a Thursday practice with 45 minutes to turn the back-line into cohesive slick unit based on skill, pace and vision. My expectations were a tad high.

They oozed heart and enthusiasm which every good rugby scholar needs but lacked the other important necessaries of speed, skill, communication (not joking) and size. Now to be fair, as a conglomerate they had all 4 of these mentioned qualities but had them equally divided amongst them.

The black chap from the Ivory Coast was blisteringly quick and the only thing worse than his hands was the problem that he couldn’t stop or change direction. Catching the ball depended more upon the ability of the passer to wedge it somehow under the flyer’s jersey but then we had the problem of trying to make him slow down before the dead ball line rather than using the fence at the bottom of the C field as one of those F14 trip wires on the US Nimitz. (playing toward the concrete pavilion at the end of the A field wasn’t a viable option)

The chubby dude in the Real Madrid soccer shirt had skills like Carlos Spencer, which he attributed to playing age group rep status indoor soccer his entire life, as a goalie. To him running wasn’t really a viable option. He was exceptional at moving laterally over a distance of 4m but anything beyond that was out of the question. He would obviously be brilliant at defending in the 12 channel and with the accuracy of his passing would be crucial in wedging the ball under the flyer’s jersey.

The little chap wouldn’t stop talking, not once and when his vocal efforts were directed to marshalling rugby troupes it was like watching an assertive cox marshal his rowing eight. Unfortunately he was about the same size as one and proudly sported his cotton traders u11C rugby jersey which was still a bit big for him.

The guy who stuck his hand up for the 13 jersey was incredible. He made Ronnnie Coleman look like Philip Burger he was so massive. However, since he could neither run, pass, catch and grunted once, I reckoned he was in fact a forward that got left behind when they went to hit the scrum machine cause he went to down his USN powershake.

These four were supplemented by 3 further oddballs that definitely weren’t members of Robo Gym and their presence there was only confirmed by heavy darth vadar breathing and the plentiful availability of hands to carry the flyer’s stretcher to the physioroom when he ran the blind side wing off chubby 12 move, but didn’t account for the US(N) Ronnie being in his direct path.

I drove home on Thursday night forlorn. Our match on Saturday was against a strongish clubs B side. B side? Are you kidding? My rabble of garbage patch kids didn’t have a 1st team cap between. I just couldn’t understand why such a bunch of donkeys insisted on playing the game at a competitive level devoting 4 days a week to the sport. 4 times 9 is 36, and this was their first game.

My disbelief was appeased that Saturday as my loyal chargers ran out onto the pitch of the opposition club. We won 49-0 in a classic display of precision, execution, grit and determination. Fair enough, skill, finesse and talent weren’t as prevalent but the scoreboard didn’t lie!

My question was answered! Why play rugby competitively when you really don’t have what it takes and no future beyond the D team? Simple, because our donkeys are better than their donkeys and for 70 minutes of rugby you can be an absolute rockstar.

"You want to take his face, off?"

Despite the ambivalence of us at Rockstar Journals about Facebook ... it does, as noted below, spawn some interesting phenomena. Yes, that is the word you illiterate fools. Take for instance, the comic below.

Brilliant litle series. Go check it out at "Bru & Boegie"

Somebody Kill Me ...

I´ve been meaning to write this post up for ages, but there was the thing with cheerleaders afterwards, and it kind of slipped my mind.

Nonetheless, you have to admire a man who can pull off facial hair. Particularly a moustache. I don't mean just grow one, but actually pull it off. Think Chuck Norris, the Edge and Mahatama Ghandi.

Brandon Flowers is one such man. Key point to being a rockstar - not giving a fuck what anyone thinks about you. You cannot give a fuck if you wear preposterous tuxedo waistcoats with Texan oil merchant ties, have a name that would make Elton John blush and manage to keep your facial topiary in the below condition.

So, hint number 1 that the Brandon is a rockstar. Hint number two would be the thousand or so screaming people just outside of the photo below.




The kicker is of course that he's lead singer of the Killers. Little bit of a giveaway, but I've got space to fill. Those of you who've been studying your GDA/conversion courses for the last couple of years and don't get out much - the Killers are kind of like a modern day Beach Boys - with better clothes. How so,you ask? For starters even if your life has been divided between memorizing balance sheets and looking at kiddie porn you will absolutely know the words to all of their songs. Not just one or two, but all of them. Had you been in a coma for the last decade you would probably still know the lyrics of Mr Brightside. (Of course, this is going on the assumption that, like me, you know all the lyrics to all the Beach Boys songs. Even the B-sides. Which everyone does, right?)

So lying in your beds in the overpriced mountains of Aspen, the sleepy beaches of Cape Town and the accountacy firms of Jo'burg you're probably on the edge of your seats wondering - how were they live?

Sick.

Although there wasn't much talking to the crowd, who gives a fuck. I went there to here them sing, not listen to his philosophies on life. Every single song was bang on tune, and there was a killer mix of the new Sam's Town stuff and the classics from their first album. I've just seen what I did there - go back and read the previous sentence. That's right - I actually said killer mix. God, that's brilliant. By the far the best concert I've been to and also the only one where every single person (even the one's in standing seats) were on their feet the entire night.

And to top it off, the drummer had a handlebar moustache. Priceless.

FBW...

One of my good friends pointed out something very interesting this past weekend. More importantly it was a positive point (positive being relative) on a subject I only denounce as worthless and plain fuckin stoopid.

I hate facebook, it's gay. But as things evolve and develop new things are created and facebook has surprisingly given rise to a very interesting development. Facebook Whores...

You see, many of us regardless of talent or charm approach girls at bars that need to be approached. There are of course the other type of 'no need to approach girls' who are again split into two groups: those that approach you (sluts, or forward thinking showstoppers) and ugly girls. Right, so you get where this is going.

All the average girls need to be approached. Most guys do it in bars and clubs, although there do exist those friggan idiots who approach girls whilst they're on the treadmill or walking into the ladies room. [some guys even loiter around the watercooler or the ladies room waiting for her to exit but let us exclude those freaks for the time being] Back to the venue at which to approach, MH rates movie and book stores the best place to approach decent ladies whilst us at Rockstar Web, laud those venues but add petrol stations, coffee shops, the library and bank queues.

I should have validated this tangent by actually saying you should never consider approaching a girl but I'll save that for an Article sometime. Moreover, let's return to what facebook has created.

As premised, your average guy approaches your girl varying in degrees of averageness and he has to do what is necessary to convince her to take her clothes off. Some guys use charm, some you booze, some use their looks and some just have to exclude the possibility that they're a pervert; but the basics of it is that the guy has to do the 'ground' work to get into her head, so she can give you it.

Now this initial exchange is just like two boxers checking each other out in the first round. A jab here, a feigned left there. Nothing physical; just making sure you want to spit out your gumguard and attack below my belt.

From the girls point of view, she has to convince the guy that she is not too outwardly dirty, or a freak, or atleast hide the fact long enough, for the guy to succumb to her beastly sexual advances. May I point out that this all starts on the dancefloor, next to the bar, near the non-fiction area, behind the foreign films shelf, up against the Columbian Roast display counter.

But the mexican showdown leading to a brazilian rainshower no longer happens in the aforementioned eye contact situations, because (and I have this on good authority) it happens in knowledge commons, internet cafes and in Wifi zones.

Little crackwhores and manwhores have found a way to circumnavigate the first phase of intergender skirmishes and replaced it with Facebook. You see these Facebook Whores [FBW] now invite friendship after checking out a quarterinch photo, poke each other electronically, post a baity wall message and wham bam thank you ma'am, they arrive at an aforeagreed upon venue and go straight to phase 2.

You want that again in slower english:

(i) Girl sees guy in friend column of mutual friend.
(ii) Girl send flirtatious friend invite.
(iii) Guy pokes girl.
(iv) Girl writes something pathetic and spelt incorrectly on guy's wall.
(v) Agree to bump into each other at Caprice.
(vi) Walk in at 21h45. See each other at bar.
(vii) 21h47 Girl and guy walk out ready to show each other their hard drives.

Quick easy and without any unnecessary conversation. Now this might sound enticing and the perfect way to start an evening but lets get realistic here.


Taking away that important first interchange is like taking the boom off a parking lot or the bouncer away from a club entrance. You don't know what kind of scum is going to try park in your space or drink from you bottle.

The way I see it is if a girl is so easy to hook up like this she may aswell have arrived not wearing any clothes, all lathered up in KY screaming $1 $1! Go to Whore College you slut, you'll pass cum laude...

Serving Sara...

If you haven't seen The Big Bounce then make a plan to. It is currently on the Movie Magic loop so you have no excuse. It is an above average comedy with some great names like Owen Wilson, Morgan Freeman, Gary Sinise and Vinnie Jones but neither they nor the storyline are the reason I enjoyed the movie. Allow me to introduce you to Sara Foster. This 9/10 takes the movie from a 6 to an 8. In one scene, Charlie Sheen's character calls her a "knockout in a slutty kind of way." Charlie is a good man.

Summertime...

Just because the season is ending doesn't mean you can't still appreciate Summer...

I wouldn't mind appreciating her all night long...

Mullet watch...

Our long standing rockstar friend Marty sent this in. He has taken up the challenge laid down by Rockstar and found himself this lurking around the UCT rugby changerooms.

Is that a possum? Thanks Drunkguy...

Fossil Fuel Theory

Criticism as been launched at my The Good Lord needs fossil fuels to make perfect beings argument that I elucidated earlier today. Well, ha I have proof that this statement is correct.

Running across the internet like a naked girl at Wimbledon right now is an urgent international plea to behold tomorrow as a NO FUEL DAY: From http://crimexposouthafrica.net;

"On May 15th, 2007 all internet users are asked to not go to a gas
station and pump fuel in protest of high fuel prices. Fuel is now over
R7.00 a litre in most places.

There are 73,000,000+ people currently on the internet network, and the
average car takes about R250 to R300 to fill up.

If all users did not go to the pump on the 15th, it would take
$2,292,000,000.00 (that's almost 3 BILLION) out of the oil companies
pockets for just one day, so please do not go to the fuel station on May
15th and lets try to put a dent in the middle eastern oil industry for
at least one day."

At first you make think this is the work of a environmental NGO or consumer activist group but there is no truth to that assumption. In actual fact, this internet plea was start by The Good Lord and he simply attributes it to consumer groups and NGOs collaborating in a moral stand against fuel prices.

In reality, myself and Minka are considering concieving our first child and so The Good Lord is stockpiling fossil fuels. Expect a no electricity stand soon...

My Monday Minka Wife...

Since you are all part of my life, I find it suitable to introduce you to another part of my life. A big part. Rockstars and showstoppers, may I introduce you to my wife...

I have it on good authority that The Good Lord needs much energy to create perfect beings and usually relies on harnessing fossil fuels to find the energy to create perfect beings. In my case, The Good Lord raped the Welsh countryside of coal to create me.

In Minka's case, lets just say the Sahara desert used to be lusher than the amazon...

My In-Laws will end up being an Aerosmith front member and a Las Vegas 'show' girl but all 4 of her in-laws are fairly quirky so I guess it's even..

The invite is in the post...

The time has come...

Gareth "the fool" Cliff held an interesting debate this morning during his 'phonecalls" (said in high pitched jewish nasel voice) and I actually waited in my parked car to hear it out. Previously the DJ of "I typically drink a bottle of jose and 24 beers when I DJ a set at high school parties" fame centres the debate around pathetic things like...but today it centred around sports.


The Cliffster raised the question of what determines which sporting team you should support? Mozeltoff Gary. Anyway he advocated the stance that you should support the team that hails from where you were born. Interesting, and very widely supported from many people who phoned off 012 numbers. One guy in fact liked his support for 'die Bulle' that had permeate through generations like his adherence to the NG Kerk. Wow.

Obviously I swim fiercely against that stream and come under much flack for it. Being born in the country and having bred through out (witty I know!) I still support the searing or freezing Hurricanes and the All Blacks. Now most of you know my position on this and have heard my arguments ad nauseam why that is so but I am going to drive it home for fun, and illustrate why I am hoping for a Blues Crusaders final next weekend.

You see old Frikkie who is a 3rd generation Blue Bull and NGK guy is so more one of two reason. Either, he is a huge fan of rucks and mauls and good forward play has the same effect on him as Annelisa Tonisson has on me, or he just does so because he was born north of the juksei and does so by default. I can laud the former reason but spit at the latter.

I am a man of choice. If I am going to spend 80minutes watching sport I am going to support the side that I enjoy watching the most regardless of whether they win or lose. Hence Christian Cullen cemented my young and impressionable mind into loving the Hurricanes and my support grew into the All Blacks from there. Win, lose, never been to New Zealand, might never go, whatever.

I associate with hard, running rugby based on skill and finesse with the correct dose of bruising physicality, not with rolling mauls and opportunist tries burgled from pressure defence.

However, with that all in mind, I recognize the fact that the later brand of rugby might favour the outcome under these conditions plus the Sharks temper that brand with a bit of flair and the probability of a final in SA is overwhelming.

Teams: 15h00 Kick Off

Sharks: 15 Percy Montgomery, 14 Francois Steyn, 13 Waylon Murray, 12 Bradley Barritt/Adrian Jacobs, 11 JP Pietersen, 10 Butch James, 9 Ruan Pienaar, 8 Ryan Kankowski, 7 AJ Venter, 6 Jacques Botes, 5 Johann Muller, 4 Johan Ackermann, 3 BJ Botha, 2 John Smit (c), 1 Deon Carstens/Tendai Mtawarira
Replacements: 16 Bismarck du Plessis, 17 Tendai Mtawarira/Patric Cilliers, 18 Albert van den Berg, 19 Warren Britz, 20 Bob Skinstad, 21 Rory Kockott, 22 Adrian Jacobs/Odwa Ndungane
Blues: 15 George Pisi, 14 Doug Howlett, 13 Anthony Tuitavake, 12 Isaia Toeava, 11 Rudi Wulff, 10 Isa Nacewa, 9 Steve Devine, 8 Nick Williams, 7 Daniel Braid, 6 Jerome Kaino, 5 Troy Flavell (c), 4 Greg Rawlinson, 3 John Afoa, 2 Derren Witcombe, 1 Tony Woodcock.
Replacements: 16 Keven Mealamu, 17 Nick White, 18 Angus MacDonald, 19 Justin Collins, 20 Taniela Moa, 21 David Holwell, 22 Ben Atiga.

The teams: 17h00 Kick Off

Bulls: 15 Johan Roets, 14 Akona Ndungane, 13 JP Nel, 12 Wynand Olivier, 11 Bryan Habana, 10 Derick Hougaard, 9 Fourie du Preez/Heinie Adams, 8 Pierre Spies, 7 Wikus van Heerden, 6 Pedrie Wannenburg, 5 Victor Matfield (c), 4 Danie Rossouw, 3 Rayno Gerber, 2 Gary Botha, 1 Gurthro Steenkamp.
Replacements: 16 Jaco Engels, 17 Danie Thiart, 18 Bakkies Botha, 19 Derick Kuün, 20 Heinie Adams/Nicholas Eyre, 21 Morné Steyn, 22 Jaco van der Westhuyzen.

Crusaders: 15 Leon MacDonald, 14 Rico Gear, 13 Casey Laulala, 12 Aaron Mauger, 11 Caleb Ralph, 10 Daniel Carter, 9 Kevin Senio, 8 Mose Tuali'i, 7 Richard McCaw (c), 6 Reuben Thorne, 5 Ross Filipo, 4 Chris Jack, 3 Campbell Johnstone, 2 Corey Flynn, 1 Ben Franks.
Replacements: 16 Ti'i Paulo, 17 Wyatt Crockett, 18 Michael Paterson, 19 Kieran Read, 20 Andrew Ellis, 21 Stephen Brett, 22 Johnny Leo'o