It would be remiss of me to allow a Brownlow Medal evening go by without a filed red finger nail swipe across the face of this perverse award ceremony whereby football industry people vote for each other and sit around and count the votes to see who is the winner - and they put this on television. For those of you fortunate enough to be anywhere else than Melbourne right now the Brownlow Medal is where Australia's own version of footballers gets all dressed up in a borrowed suit, shaves their head, "gimme a number one mate" and forget to shave their face. Attached to their sides like a glittering growth is a dangling wife or girlfriend of the night (sometimes both) to play the role of glamour interest to stop people turning off the telly. The winner of the medal says he is grateful to win. Grateful not to be in maximum security considering the amount of sexual assaults, criminal associations, drug usage, public drunkenness, gross public conduct and general disrespect for women usually reported in connection with this sport. The winner's model attachment was photographed wearing a silver grey strapless dress (yawn) so tight she looks like a BP oil pump about to blow, amongst her peers with similar frocks displaying as much individuality as another slice of processed cheese. What can you expect really? I'm not sure what the term WAG (wife and girlfriend) really implies. I think it's more than attachment, I think it's a term that these men use because they turn them over so quickly there is not point remembering their names. Just peel off the plastic and there is another one just like it. "Everyone smile for cameras...cheese!"
I didn't watch the event - preferring to catch up on my reading and surfing - but did wander in just as the winners were announced.
ReplyDeleteApart from the grapefruit cleavages it's the teeth of the WAGS that stood out for me - they literally glow in the dark!
I much prefer the Spring racing carnival, at least a non-celebrity dressed beautifully can be a winner and without a ball kicker hanging off her arm.
ReplyDeleteSince there isn't a sporty bone in my body, I avoid this but inevitably some fleshy skin and bone manbag will find her way onto the (dare I call it such) news. Does that sound like sour grapes . . probably. Biotches!
ReplyDeleteBut unfortunately, after the B-low comes something as exciting as watching grass grow.
ReplyDeleteThat would be cricket.
do u often play cricket?
ReplyDelete