Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Special Guest Post

Hello possums.

Rog here. My twin brother Sam has asked me to fill in for his lazy, minimally post-producing arse. Coz yeah, I'm in his hemisphere with nothing better to do that winning the freakin' Australian Open, and so with a sawn-off shotgun to my head great pleasure I'm popping by to say howdy-ho.

Not much to report, really. At the time of writing I see Monkey Boy's in serious trouble up against Speedy Gonzalez, zee fastest teenis player in all Meckico (hee, a little inside Warner Bros humour there. I'm way wittier than Sam).

I don't get all the fuss about MB. OK, he has nicer biceps than I do - which don't look at all queer as fuck in a yellow sleeveless number, nosiree - but seriously, where's the organ grinder? Signourney Weaver playing Dian Fossey, is that you? Plus the only times he ever beats me is on clay, which we in the business know is only as much a 'real' court surface as Canada or Belgium are 'real' countries. Either way, whether it's the chimp or the rat in the semi, I'm gonna whoop serious ass - it's just what I do.

My true nemesis, Seann William Scott, is the real concern. Not only is l'il Miss A&F fancying herself as my conquerer, in some cultures she may be considered cuter than I am. Plus bitch gets an unlimited Platinum Amex. I wonder how you say 'sell-out' in Jock, anyway? It's one of the few languages I don't speak fluently (hey - I'm from a country that's really just the arse, crown and right ear of three other countries).

Still, end of the day I am King. King Federer. Just call me K-Fed...Oh wait. Disregard. Just call me Dude What Sam Wishes He Played As Good As He Resembles.

And go nice on my bro. He may be slack, he may have a second serve I personally find offensive to both my very existence and to the game itself, and he may not be capable of growing his hair nice and long and floppy like I can, but...umm...I really am pretty good, aren't I? Let's just all settle on The Greatest? Bjorg, McEnroe, Agassi and Sampras can kiss my brown Hawkeye.

Anyways, gotta go 'train' (watch the Comedy Channel in my hotel room) to 'prepare' (automatically be a lot better than) for my 'match' (whitewash. Seriously - nobody's even taken a set off me the whole freakin' tournament) against my next 'opponent' (poor bastard who dares win his QF match), otherwise Rochie will get narky and accuse me yet again of stealing his pencils after he's nodded off (which is pretty often these days). Plus Martina keeps rocking up on my doorstep wearing a Swiss Maid outfit and asking me to 'hold her milk pails'. The joke's almost as old as she is, stupid bint.

Toodles for now. Like I always say - go get yer ass Rogered!


At 25/1/07 12:42 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said...

It's not Raffa's yellow sleeveless top that concerns me or his striking resemblance to the warrior kid in "The Neverending Story" but his 3/4 cargo pants that he is constantly picking out of his arse. If he pulls a wedgie out once more I am going to scream.

At 7/2/07 9:44 pm, Anonymous wamut said...

i love the tennis. almost as much as a love talking about male tennis players.

I'd never seen gonzalez before this year, but but found him reasonably pleasing to look at. mostly because he has lovely eyes - beautiful colour.

roddick distresses me. he should be hot, but his eyes are FAR too close together. ick.

nadal. nah, he's just funny looking.

the one player that makes me swoon and fan my face rapidly is James Blake. Am i the only one???? I think my boyfriend was starting to get a bit jealous. Yes he has a 'duckarse' (thanks said bf) but black guys just do. i'm not complaining. he's lovely.

oh. you know what else? I would LOOOVE to find out who are the fags on tour... anyone got any insights?


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