Rugby Roy

There we were in Ron’s yesterday afternoon having a few quiet pints, a game or two of dominos and a flick through the quality Sunday papers (Can you believe what Kerry Katona and her cocaine filled udders have been up to now?!) when in walked Rugby Roy.

“Ah, lads. Thought I’d come down here and share the excitement of the game with you.”

“What fucking game?”, said Ron.

“Ireland v Argentina in the rugby world cup.”

“There’s a rugby world cup? Since when?”

“Oh, Ron. You’re such a joker.”

Now, we haven’t seen Rugby Roy for a long time. Like a really long time. Since that time he dragged us all to Lansdowne Road to watch us get beaten by the French and we had some cunt of an Australian playing for us who looked like he should have been drowning in the surf instead of trying to kick ‘drop goals’ or whatever.

“Rugby Roy”, I said, “I’m curious as to why you came here to watch the game when you could be watching it will all your rugby friends who actually like rugby.”

“Ahh, I don’t have any friends who like rugby anymore”, he said.

“What on earth happened to them all?”

“Well, it wasn’t so much them as me. I was caught having an affair and they ostracised me and then sent me to Coventry and then refused to speak to me. My wife kicked me out, my kids won’t speak to me and none of my friends will let me anywhere near them.”

“Over an affair? People should get with the times a bit.”

“The affair was with the 17 year old daughter of my best friend, Lineout Liam. He came home and found me riding her in his bed. Dressed in his wife’s lingerie. With an orange in her mouth. And I was slapping her arse shouting ‘Ride ‘em cowboy Roy!’ She looked like one of those red arsed monkeys except with a penis in her vagina. My penis. Suffice to say he wasn’t best pleased.”

“Right, so you get kicked out of that life and come running to us as if we’re you’re replacement friends.”

“Oh no. It’s not like that. I tried my work colleagues, then some distant acquaintances, then tried to make friends with various homeless people and disease carriers then I came here. Just thought we might watch the match together.”

“You are a mongy clit, Rugby Roy, but we’re not bad sorts really. We’ll watch the match with you.”

So we did. That Ronan O’Gara is one shit cunt, isn’t he?

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