Serious sport is war minus the shooting - George Orwell
Congratulations to the Queensland team on their fantastic victory this evening. It seemed that a lot of the umpire decisions didn't exactly go their (our) way, and yet they (we) still managed two beautiful ones when it looked like they (we) might lose yet again.
After the spit was wiped after rolling down my chin and I was through bellowing like a Bili Ape on a full moon, I realised old Georgey boy might have a point. Every decision the umpire made seemed, to me, a travesty. That Willie Mason looked like a filthy bucaneer, a right scoundrel. There seemed to be malice behind every New South Welsh movement. And everything that Queensland did was heroic. State of Origin seems to put me in this state moreso than other sports, and I've had friends agree with this sentiment. What is it that makes it so?
Is it all the more infuriating when the enemy is so similar to your own side? Does civil war tap into that Cain-Abel seed inside us all, ape and man alike?
Is it the lack of that seed that those Bondo Mystery Apes are blessed with, some preterition deep in the Congo, which gives them curiosity instead of aggression towards humans?
So for the those Bili Apes, let's have a minutes silence for the New South Welshman, our brothers and cousins, implicit in this Bondo Mystery.
Still, they're nevertheless a cheating, vain, vulgar, sour and banal shower of bastards, the lot of them.
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