Thursday, April 1, 2010

ROUND 1. Here we go again

I'm not going to bang on here. As is my habit, I popped along to have my heart rip't from my body again last saturday. Luckily I'm all written out this week so I won't report on what I saw. You wouldn't believe it anyway. I'll let Grant fill you in, he was there somewhere too, he enjoyed it.

Scoreboard pressure.

Welcome aboard fellow Drunks, enjoy the year, I'll start putting my energies into drinking soon and suggest you do likewise, especially you Tigers fans. I reckon first PunchDrink will come round in about 3 or so weeks.

League of Drunks has Big Cox

Won't say too much on this, this week. Those who are in the League know where to find Round 1 results, still a couple of weeks before we take each other on.
Couldn't fill the spots with PunchDrunkers which is a bit of a shame, so we have some special guests, Dean Cox, Big Bustling Barry Hall, Jonathan Brown and one-time PunchDrunker Caro Wilson.
Cox is way out in front at the mo, Richo is not far behind...
League of Drunks

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

The Drunk Roll of Honour

We've got a healthy turnout of Drunks this year. In fact I'm pretty sure we've broken all attendance records. 39 Drunks, the previous high, I believe, was 36.
Quite a few fresh minds to mess with too. Let's have a quick run-down...

Ian Anderson (Ando). Tall guy. Cat. Worked with him for a couple of years. No one knows what he does.
Dave Ascoli. Photo-making guy. Bris-vegan. Loyalties torn between the Bears and the Saints.
Lee Callister. (Mr Lee). Creative type. Sydney supporter who occasionally slips to the dark side. Canterbury Bulldogs from memory.
Grant Campain. Another lensman. Hawker. Captain World Handball Champions, 1997.
Brenton Carey (Brenna). Designer type. One of far too many Tigers supporters in this comp. Originally from Adelaide, but a bloody nice guy.
Sean Cox (Coxy. Catfish). Writer, painter, Renaissance Man. Tiger supporter, so must be Renaissance Feral.
Andrew Curtain (Kurtz). Former creative type, who sold his soul to run publishing sweat-shops world-wide. Frequent flyer. Hawks supporter. Long-time Drunk.
Matt Drew. (Matt loves Juddy). Another design fella. Bluebagger who's been hiding out for years in enemy territory in Carringbush watching troop movements. He's almost become one of them.
Pat Dudek. Movie Producer, or that's what he tells the ladies. Bomber. Shame about that.
Joff Dumas. Writer. Carlton supporter. Fancier of horse flesh. Potential PunchDrunk Race Tips columnist, but first needs to learn to share.
Rich Edwards (Dick). Creative type - pictures. Lifelong victim of Demons curse. Carries on a bit much.
Kate Ellis Welsh. (masterk8) Media mogul. Rock chick. Magpie. Lucky enough to have 3 names. New girl, seems to have big things ahead of her. Boom-tish. Welcome Katee.
Craig Ford. Creative type. Blue. Not allowed to leave the house after dark, so remains an enigma.
Justin Graham (Juzzy G)(The Devil). Entrepreneur. Tiger supporter, moved away so he didn't need to see them play. Recently resurfaced. New guy. Welcome Juzzy.
Paul Harvey (Harv). Real Artist (can still use hands as well as a keyboard). Fitzroy supporter who made the jump, but left half his heart behind. Has been photographed with Kevin Murray, or a very lifelike cut-out. Long-term Drunk.
Steve Hurley (Stavros). Creative Suit. Saint. The Pope of PunchDrunk. Founding father. The man who's DNA is all over this comp, and finger prints all over the cup. Has won it more often than the Pies.
Stan Johnson. Creative type. Another Saint. Constantly torn between the round ball code and real footy. A flag is all he needs and he's ours forever.
Tassy Kontogiannis. Another art guy. Swan supporter. The man with the longest name in show-biz, I saw his full first name once, but had to look away.
Frank Materia. Suit, Saint, National Rhyming Slang Champion. Which reminds me it's time I got on the dog to Frankie, grabbed a left jab to the near and far for some young and friskies, til we're both Molly the Monk enough to fall down the apples and pears. Another multiple cup winner.
Alex Maxwell. (I'm kind of a big girl) Mover & shaker. Roos fan. Always drags me against my will to the Labour in Vain after every PunchDrunk drink session, just when I think I'll get home safely. Never underestimate the Shin-boner spirit.
Jesper Neilsen. (Soccer Rules) Photographer. Liverpool/Denmark. Lives in hope that the AFL come to their senses and ditches the stupid Greater Western Sydney plan in favour of the Greater Western Copenhagen plan.
Rob Alfaro. (Rob A.)(Fev's finger smells like Bingle.) Man of mystery. Phantom. No one has ever seen this man, nor spoken with him. Rumour has it he has no reflection, no smell and no taste. Blues supporter so the last bit is definitely true. Arose out of the mist, a ghostly presence just last week. New guy. Welcome Rob.
Bernie Phelan. Shooter. Saints supporter. Has opinions on footy and not afraid to use them. Used to have a life, now he's got kids. Long time Drunk.
Jim Richardson (Richo). Creative pen waver. Cat. Fairly recent Drunk, but always thereabouts. Could have been the next Gary Ablett Snr. but wasn't.
Sam Russell. (Samalama). Design guy. Cat. Last year's Drunk winner. Has the ear of Andrew Demetriou. Rumour has it GWS was his idea.
Franco Schena. (SKN). Another designer. Recent Drunk cup-holder. His history with PunchDrunk goes back to year one, 1988, though he denies it. Lives, breathes and shits Magpies, which must get very uncomfortable for him.
Dirk Schneider (Schneiderman). Creative chap. Another Tiger. His love for killing fish is only equaled by his love for a good bratwurst. Long time Drunk. Former winner who has his own method. Could surprise.
Phil Smith. Strategic genius. Demon supporter (not a good strategic choice). Started life in Adelaide, moved to Melbourne, now in Sydney. That's a bad case of over-correction.
Corey Steer. What are you doing these days Corey? He's in that kinda digi-vidi-designy area. Lions supporter. Former rodeo rider, or so he tells me.
Ian Stewart. (Heylow). Ad guy who's moved to the dark side. Crows supporter. I hereby make a promise to you Ian, I shall make no more digs at Adelaide this year (unless I have to) and won't mention my umpiring theory ever again.
Matt Stoddart. (Stoddy). International colt having his first run here. Word is he knows nothing about footy, so he's in good company. Hard to tell who he follows, black cross on a red ground, could be The Crusaders against the Sarascens, but that was about 1,000 years ago. My wife's met him but I haven't, though he could be my long lost cousin. Welcome Matt.
Phil Taffs. (Taffa). Writer/Novelist/Dreamer. Blues supporter. Tipper with his own methods, usually found sniffing round the bottom of the ladder. Only allowed out on thursdays.
Scott Tindall. Confectioner. Kangaroo supporter. A reclusive character, not much is known about Scott, he stays up late eating chocolates in his bedroom, carefully hiding the wrappers.
Frank Trobbiani. (Trobby)(Ghostbones). Creative, picture guy, rock star. Hawker. Our very own Heavy Metal Drummer, Trobby used to be such an unreliable tipster the non-tipping default score was named after him. His life was saved by rock'n'roll and now he's a tipping powerhouse.
Leah Trotter. Productive Suit. Cat fan. Spent 3 years in an alcohol-induced coma in Edinburgh while her Cats went on to clinch the flag. Twice. (This kind of thing is my nightmare. What if the Dees win a game (any game) on one of the few weeks I'm not at the G?) The up-side is she now knows what a neep is.
Phil Van Bruchem (VB). Creative, Siamese twin. Eagles fan. Phil jumped the Western Wall a few years after his family arrived from the Flat Lands, and headed east to safety. He checks the locks each morning but remains as yet undiscovered. Celebrity Head is his purpose in life.
Rich Wade. (Dickwad). Tycoon. Tigers. Another Sandgroper. Developed all available coastal land north of Perth, mined everything worth digging out of the Hamersleys and came east, mistakenly transferring his man-love for the Claremont Tigers to the local variety. New boy. Welcome Dick II.
Rob Weir. Moving pictures. North Melbourne fan from memory. Another shadowy character from the wings of PunchDrunk, somewhat reminiscent of the Phantom of the Paradise. Been around for a while, this could be his year.
Nick Weller. (Cuz's Pusher). Creative, Siamese twin. Tigers. Jumped the Berlin Wall when young. One time Cuckoo Restaurant Slap-Dancer made good. Celebrity Head is his purpose in life.

I initially tarnished Matt Drew's reputation by claiming he followed The Filth at Magpieland, when he actually supports The Scum at Carlton. A truly terrible mistake, sorry.

I also mistakenly claimed Jesper was an Man U man, when he's actually a Liverpool lover. They're both just teams of interchangeable guys dressed largely in red who kick a round ball 'round, so that one doesn't matter as much. But apologies anyway.

Round 1. Drunk On A Ladder

Trialling a new ladder/chart format here. The intention is to give a simple snapshot of not only who's leading, but by how much. I'm ultimately hoping to get all the joy of the past few years' WormChart, but without the threat of epilepsy.
Why bother? Good question, I'll ask my analyst.

It's a long skinny bugger isn't it. But like a lot of things in life, pimples, penises, credit card debt, if you touch it it gets bigger, so you should be able to read it.

Round one sees the FIRST JACKPOT go off too. So Rob Weir and Joff each take home the princely sum of FIVE DOLLARS.

This reminds me that I haven't reiterated the Rules and Oddities of the Drunk. It's the same as last year, which was basically the same as it's been since time immemorial. This doesn't help the new kids, and we have a few of novices this year, so I'll do a separate post. But in this case, if UP TO TWO Drunks get all 8 games right, they share the Jackpot which goes up by $10 a week til it goes off. As the Dalai would say "It's not bloody rocket science", nor is it original, but there you have it.

Celebrity Head Last week...

With hindsight you were never going to get this one...
Shame, a waste of a damn good religious figurine.

TOM CRUISE, freaky space-man, sofa jumper and all-round scary piece of plastic. Yeah, I spelt his name wrong.

Also, one of last week's 48 debutantes, young TOM SCULLY. The future. The shining light in a deep, dark pit of dark deepness.

And CRUIZE GARLETT. Probably known as The Missile down at the Roos. Or maybe not.

Only one response last week, and I don't blame you. Harv bravely went where no-one else bothered, coming up with a bunch of Whites. Jeff, Daryl and Jesus from JC Superstar, Trevor (or Patrick if you prefer).

LATE MAIL: Both Nick and Phil VB have abused me this morn for putting the answers up as they were about to respond. They both claim they picked Tom Cruise, but then missed the others, both going for Buddy Franklin, and split between Peter Knights and Malcolm Blight... I tend to believe they picked Tom, mainly because they spend their whole working week, and all their agency's resources trying to nut these things out.

I'll try to make them worth having a go at from here on in. Oh, but a warning don't count on too many links (names etc) between the heads, I'm already fast running out of clever options.