Round 21 – GWS v West Coast: Love Letter to an Old Flame


I know I haven’t written lately.  Or even spoken since we had that shouting match at the Demons game a month ago.  I said something about your fake tits and teamwork and you responded with something about me misrepresenting the size of my assets (financial I assume).

It’s not you, it’s me.  Or at least it was me, distracted by golf and my nephew in the WAFL and the Olympics and the Tour de France.  What can I say?  Other attractions turned my head – but not my heart.

Thanks for hearing my apology.  You’re right, it was you too.  You let yourself go over the summer.  Last year you took my breath away.  Your daring; your ferocious attack; the thrill of the chase.

Maybe we both got a little comfortable and complacent.  We thought these things would just naturally continue, and we didn’t put enough effort into maintaining the passion.

In truth neither of us is getting any younger, and we both put on a little flab around the midfield.  We have to run faster every year just to keep up with these glamorous young things.  I saw a whole bunch of them on Saturday in their flashy orange lycra.

Attractive at first, but they are all legs and no substance.  What would you talk to them about afterwards?  Pokemon and Jay Z?  They are so busy admiring themselves in the mirror that they forget to put in the full effort.   All smiles and slapping themselves on the back when they got that goal with a minute remaining.  I haven’t seen a better fake orgasm since When Harry Met Sally (the Avenging Eagle insists everything is 100% kosher at our place).

What, you thought it reminded you more of our 2005 Grand Final dalliance?  Premature ecstasy?  Don’t remind me, but I think I know where you’re coming from (more double entendres than Are You Being Served? – Ed.)

I loved that you never gave up.  Even when the flashy things got a few goals ahead I could see you were in for the long haul this time.  You let them have the run of the field, but then you trapped them in your defensive web tighter than a XXX’s XXXX (there are kids – and Corey Bernardi – reading this – Ed.)

Mark has always been a homebody, so I am glad she wasn’t allowed to stray so far from her goals this week.  Josh’s bearded lady routine is sure to win a Helpmann – or a Coleman.  Matthew was in and under like a rugby second rower.  Andrew the Little Sparrow was singing again.  Non, je ne regrette rien?

Sorry to hear about little Simon being ejected by the bouncers.  Just a simple little bitch slap I would have thought.  The other girl had stolen her handbag and wouldn’t let go, so what else was she to do?  Anyway I hope to see more of her.  Best left leg since Fraser Gehrig left us for the St Kilda nightclubs.

Jack and Jeremy were a little subdued.  Must be the time of the month – or year in Jack’s case.  Sorry that’s me being Catty again.  Aren’t they two faced?  More pretenders than The Crying Game.

Anyway back at home, it really was Luke that turned my head on the weekend.  Always had the talent, but my hasn’t she grown into herself.  Strapping young lass who broke as many tackles as orange hearts.  And can’t he dance?  Sinking at the knees and flicking her shoulder with abandon like Ginger Rodgers.  More like Sonja Henie you think – dancing on thin ice?  No matter she’ll just show them the Triple Axel with Lutz next week.

Still nothing took my breath away like Nici at the end.  She leapt, she danced, she twirled and delivered the best money shot since Debbie did Dallas.

Sigh.  Absence does make the heart grow fonder.  Love is always better the second (or third or fourth or fifth………………) time around.

What are you doing Friday night around 6 O’Clock?  Meet you in Subi and we’ll catch up with those mean girls from East Melbourne that we gave a good turkey slapping to there last September.  Just you, me and the Avenging Eagle for a threesome?

You want to invite 40,000 of your other friends and have a party?  Well I guess I can’t blame you for sharing it around after I turned my back on you.

You say those mean girls spoiled our party later on last year?   I have been trying to forget.  They have been flaunting their jewels so long, they need to be reminded that they don’t own them.  They borrowed them for a year and they won’t give them back three years later.  Time they learned to share.


Yours adoringly,


From the young(ish) man in the 22nd row



  1. Brilliant PB and I have sent thru to Corey Bernardi

  2. Wonderful PB. I always enjoy an Are You Being Served? served reference. Captain Peacock is the gift that keeps giving.

    Over here in Adelaide we’d be most grateful if you and the AE could get the locals across the line Friday night.

  3. Luke Reynolds says

    Always knew you two kids would get back together….

    Brilliantly written and very funny Peter.

  4. Dave Brown says

    You could cut the sexual tension with a knife, or something… as per Mickey’s comment, by all means sort those Hawks out. Processing the idea of Rulebook having Corey Bernardi on speed dial.

  5. Have coached Corey’s sons at PAC,Dave

  6. Rulebook – Straight ahead no nonsense type? No left foot? Sporadically brilliant but sulks and wants to go to another team when he doesn’t get in the best players?

  7. Fickle fan, eh?
    I have a blow up Nic Nat in my office I’m sure you would love to cuddle (or whatever else tickles your fancy). Let me know if you want to borrow him. Just don’t prick him, or he will deflate and go soft.

  8. Corey’s son great kid have umpired,Corey comment,Wally May no comment good comment,Wally

  9. Lorri – Is Balla’s blow up a bit over-inflated – like his ego? Saw blow up Fyfe on his bike being blown north up Stirling Highway. Wonder where he will end up?

  10. Wow. “A XXX’S XXXX.” I haven’t heard that expression in a while.
    Please assure all Almanackers you didn’t write this piece one-handed.

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