The Badger

 
 

Hello ladies. Look at your man. Now back to The Badger, now back at your man, now back at the Badger. Sadly, your man isn’t the Badger.

Since the Six Nations has restarted, the Badger has had many restless nights. He has been tossing and turning in bed (a king-size bed in a five-star sett, naturally) pondering what it must be like to be England’s illustrious and celebrated World Cup winning hero, Martin Johnson. Some dedicated rugger fans call Johnson a charismatic leader and a commanding presence on and off the field. Others praise him as the defining light of English rugby.

Now the Badger isn’t normally one to disagree with others’ opinions, but he doesn’t really agree with these Anglo-centric views. In the Badger’s superior opinion, Martin Johnson is a cauliflower-producing machine that shares many common characteristics with a tree. Like a tree, Johnson cannot devise a tactical rugby system that is capable of convincingly winning a game. Like a tree, Johnson would struggle to carry out any other profession than blocking sunlight in his surrounding area. Finally, like a tree, Johnson is unable to hear anything that people say because he has the second largest cauliflower plantation in the United Kingdom growing in his ears (second only to that of Graham Rowntree, of course).

The Badger is being very harsh on the King of Rugby, Martin “MJ” Johnson, and feels that people should know of his embarrassing disability. Poor Johnson is lambasted with showing a lack of respect to our prestigious President, Mary McAleese, when Ireland faced England in the 2000-and-something Six Nations Championship. Being the England captain at the time, he led his team into the wrong area of the pitch, which forced McAleese to walk on the grass.

His supposed ‘intentional’ move was slated by pundits across the world and until now, no one has spoken out in defence of the man-tree – meaning that the Badger will have to do so himself. Johnson is, in fact, colour-blind; he is cursed with the worst condition of colour blindness that anyone can suffer from, known as black-, white-, green-, blue-, mauve- and mango-colour blindness. Leave the poor man alone.

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You go, girls!

On another quick note, curling is not a sport. Of all the non-sports in the world – classic examples being wife-carrying, extreme ironing and bog snorkelling – curling is the lowest of the low. If darts is a sport for men who are good at throwing pins at a board, then curling is a sport for women who are good at sweeping the floor.

The Badger couldn’t be bothered researching the proper scoring system for this game (hey, you try using Wikipedia with no opposable thumbs), so he’ll just give you a very basic, uneducated and condensed overview of what he thinks the game is about. A person throws a brick of granite over some ice; for some reason it slides; two (maybe three?) people then frantically clean the path the brick will follow; then the brick stops.

Did you wet yourself with excitement reading from that commentary? The Badger did, but like most people who compete in curling, he suffers from OAB. Look it up. On Wikipedia. With your thumbs. You cretins.

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