24 Sevens

Is anyone bored with the whole annual Sevens party yet?

Just me it would seem, or maybe the guy who got done for a streak but then he's not allowed there anymore so he might be done with it too.

My days of drinking 24 cans in a day are of course, long gone, but even I have to admit that in these, my mature killjoy days, that that’s a pretty good effort. Oh sure, it then lead the poor guy to go do something ridiculous like run onto the field in his gruts to try and tackle a 90kg Samoan, but it’s a fine advertisement for excess alcohol consumption: Beer. It gives you balls!

And the shits… but that last phrase would probably never catch on. It doesn’t do remorse either apparently, the fore mentioned guy received a two year ban from the stadium something he only feels ‘a little bit stink’ about.

Despite this overwhelming example of its many merits, getting pissed was a big ‘no no’ on the agenda of the organising committee for this year’s tournament and as such they took some radical steps; they offered prizes for the best costume and encouraged fans to get to the stadium earlier so as to hopefully drink less before arriving.

Amateurs.

Clearly no one on that particular committee has been shit faced whilst dressed in a toga because if they had they would’ve known that neither of those two initiatives would make much difference. For one, most people, when faced with dressing up need to be pissed senseless to handle the perceived embarrassment of looking like a tit and as such, if forced to arrive earlier will simply drink the same amount in a shorter space of time. Case in point, Mr 24 Cans himself.

What they could’ve done was banned the selling of alcohol at the ground, now THAT is an initiative. But these days the hand that giveth the beer earns far too much money from it to ever allow it to be taketh away so there’s no chance of that happening. But still, if anyone down at the Cake Tin was really serious about doing something about it that would be a pretty tasty start.

Incidentally my favourite Sevens story only exists thanks to the mindless consumption of liquor so I am somewhat grateful for the ever ready presence and availability of the demon elixir.

On Yer Bike Stu tells of the time he and a colleague were musing over just who would take the double pass to the Red Zone somebody else was offering up on the cheap. Stu eventually and somewhat regretfully, turned it down and let the colleague take it. Imagine his disappointment then when she arrived at work on Monday to tell him all about the whale of a time she’d had.

The guy sat directly behind her had arrived inebriated in his caveman costume, sans any form of underwear and proceeded to spend the next eight hours spilling, vomiting and urinating down the back of her chair. At some point in the evening he took to exposing himself and more than once attempted to teabag her on the back of the head....

Needless to say she’s never been back since and I for one empathise. Nobody wants to see a drunken mans junk. Why just the other week at Hixies stag do we were horrified to see a couple of hairy plums poking out of the undies from another stag there that night. He had been dragged on stage for the ritualistic humiliation on offer from one of the lovely ladies that he had been shouted by his very good mates.

Admittedly he was wearing ladies underwear but that’s no excuse. I didn’t pay my $10 to see gnads on stage, that’s a whole different strip club. Not even 24 cans would prepare a fella for that.