When is rape not rape? When it’s a truck and trailer sesh with four international rugby players it would seem. Quite what the full story is only the 18 year old recipient and the four players know for sure, but it seems that things did get a bit rough. Apparently not half as rough as it would get if it were to get to the courts because the young lady on the receiving end is so concerned at the possible character assassination she faces if she comes forward and actually lays a complaint that she’s decided not to.
It’s a sad day in this country when women are afraid to go to the Police after an experience like this because they fear being implicated as the guilty party by some sections of the media.
It’s nearly as sad as the night The Gusher bought back to our flat – ours mind you, not hers – some munter from the local rugby club and proceeded to treat his body like a ride at Movie World on our lounge floor. Quite what was happening audibly I try not to explain in too much detail because that inevitably leads to me having to imagine and heaven forbids, mentally picture, what was going on that night. Needless to say the sound was awful. I came to understand that night just why it is that porn movies have terrible background music, because nobody wants to hear what sounded to me like 67 cows being milked by hand, all at once by a guy with a lisp chewing gum.
The sliding doors that separated my gaff from the lounge were woefully ineffective that night at muffling the terrible noises that were being made, so facing the prospect of several hours of having to listen to a drunk girl trying to suck a golf ball through a garden hose all night and a Sylvester Stallone sound alike tell her how good she was at it, I bravely ventured into the lounge and told them both to ‘shut the fuck up’. It goes without saying that I left the lights off as I did so *shiver*.
See young girls have always flocked to rugby players and probably always will. If that rugby player is from overseas then there’s the allure of the exotic or the celebrity thrown into the volatile mix that is always inevitably alcohol, testosterone and hormones. I’ve already covered before my thoughts on the binge drinking culture that appears to befit most of our young women these days so it’s hardly surprising that an incident like this has happened. What’s surprising to me that it hasn’t happened a lot more and maybe it has, if the unnaturally hairy women at Rape Crisis are to be believed it happens a lot more than is actually reported which is a fucking travesty of justice in my book. The non reporting that is, not the hairy upper lips and chains of the staff at women’s refuge centres although that’s a close second.
Now I’m no sheila – sometimes I wish I was, purely so that I had my own nungas to play with – but it would occur to me that going back to a rugby players shared room, in or around the presence of other pissed, highly charged players who don’t have other girls with them is the type of environment I would be a little suss of. It shouldn’t be like that, no question. A consenting young woman has the right to expect that any shag she enters into gets as risqué as only she chooses to make it, but there’s something to be said for not putting yourself in the line of fire. Unfortunately common sense is not always at the forefront of a pissed 18 year olds mind here in NZ, but it should be.
And as for the four highly paid young men who clearly think it’s okay to rape and pillage their way through the colonies – a practice that ceased a good few years ago – even if there is no criminal prosecution bought to bear the English Rugby Union could do the world a favour and ban the pricks from playing and thus earning from rugby, for life. This was no ‘what goes on tour stays on tour’ consensual gangbang, the young woman involved had to seek medical treatment as a result of having three uninvited and over zealous meatheads decide that any hole was a goal that night. England as a country should be ashamed of the four of them. Shit, World wars have been started for lesser transgressions.
Speaking of gagging for it, the banks are getting desperate for our custom aren’t they? Why some of them even open on weekends these days. Dang, that’s whack. Problem is, when was the last time you walked into a bank and found someone pleased to see you, or in fact helpful? Actually, when was the last time you were in a bank? Now the staff members that were shitty because they worked in a bank during the week now have to work weekends too and guess what? They’re even shittier now. Go figure.
Thankfully their advertising is here to remind us that even though they’re open weekends, nothing has changed. Maybe I’m reading between the lines of their latest ad campaign but it looks to me as though reverse racism is alive and well at the ANZ bank. The have the smiley fresh Samoan girl who helps out the ginga Scotsman who is clearly tighter than a mans anus with his money; then there’s the Indian account manager who shows an Italian how to run her pasta restaurant (cause Indians do takeaways better, obviously) and finally the effeminate Asian with a penchant for expensive dye jobs who gets his budgeting, but not style, advice from a balding Caucasian. Now that last one is just plain factually incorrect because we all know Asians only do two hair colours – Jet Li black and the ginga-Chewbacca streaked look.
Kiwibank are on to a good thing with making their ‘struggle’ appear to be similar to that of the Free French resistance in the Second World War. That would make all the other banks Nazi Germany and if there’s one thing people can get behind it’s fighting the Nazis. Unless you’re German and then you’re caught between wanting to do the right thing and sticking with the home team, who have always had the better uniform.
Yes If there’s one thing Hitler got right it was magnificent uniforms. If he was around today, Adolf Hitler would win Project Runway no question and not just because Heidi Klum is German either.
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