How do you think I’m going to get along
Without you, when you’re gone?
You took me for everything that I had
And kicked me out on my own.
Are you happy, are you satisfied?
How long can you stand the heat?
Out of the doorway the bullets rip,
To the sound of the beat
Oh Cumquat, what have you done son??
You took the boys out on the turps. You let them get full of grog. And then when the grog-driven testosterone started flowing and the beer goggles went on you pointed the finger at the young fellas rather than staring at your own ugly mug in the mirror, and you banned Queensland’s best and brightest from the 2016 Origin Series.
I warned you Kevvie – I did! I tried to tell you about the error of your inexperienced coaching ways, but you wouldn’t bloody listen would you? No, you wouldn’t. I reckon it’s because you’re from Ipswich, and that this accident of biology and geography explains everything, but if that’s true how does a man explain the table dancing genius of Alfie?
He made you look good for years mate, just like Mike made Scottie Pippen look like a world-beater at the Bulls and worth damn near 11 million bucks a season in the eyes of the blind who could not see. But when the King departed, and Pippen was left with no clothes, his pimples and dimples and puffed up ego and playing deficiencies were left for all to see, and now he’s broke and busted and bankrupt and can’t even afford to tip a poor bloody waiter on $7 an hour at Starbuck’s.
You should have watched and learned Mr Walters, because those that do not learn from history always repeat the mistakes of the past. But you didn’t, and now your career, and the Maroon’s hopes of 10 out of 11 are gone, just as Billy Slater went last week and Daly Double-Banger departed from the Qld bench tonight and who knows how many more are going to fall between now and May.
What type of moron, gifted the keys to Queensland’s kingdom but with a side jam-packed with aging genius’s, bans just about every gun player under the age of 23 who’s eligible for a place in the parade of champions?
Who the hell pulls a stunt that leaves Anthony Milford – the best young talent in the game and an absolute certainty for a bench role, and 1 injury away from a starting spot – out of contention to go cockroach hunting in 2016, the aptly named year of the Monkey? Who leaves out Chris Grevsmuhl, a gun young forward with more aggro that Jared Waerea-Hargreaves? Or Valentine Holmes, the most exciting backline talent since Milford himself?
Let’s put the whole 52 cards on the table, and call a Cumquat a bloody shovel.
Who goes out on the piss with the boys and then packs up their bat and ball and heads home just as Cinderella’s about to be stripped of her ball gown and get as trolleyed as a pumpkin?
What sort of Queenslander who’s just spent six hours in the warm up doesn’t continue to sink XXXX stubbies through the early hours of the morning until they chunder?
And sportsfans, please tell me in simple syllables so I understand – what type of coach doesn’t kick on with the boys until they are so blind that they get kicked out of a backpackers bar at 2 o’clock in the AM?
Not Mal Meninga, that’s for sure, but hey! Mal only won 9 out of 10, so he’s probably not much good, just as the support team who took him there weren’t too flash either, at least in the eyes of the goose who has just gifted the Blues a clean sweep in this year’s series.
Kevvie Cumquat bloody Walters.
Take the tip punters, there are 5 certainties that you can bet your house, your wife and your life on this year.
Death, taxes, Tony Abbott throwing bombs at Malcolm Turnbull, Madonna being late on to stage and not giving a tinker’s cuss about the kiddies kept up late on a school night during exam block, Kev the Rat Rudd pretending to be a good bloke until he gets where he wants to be and shows his true colours, Miranda Kerr being a good sort, George Pell staying hidden behind the modern-day Hadrian Wall, Archie failing to back the winner of The Cup, the once-might Maroons getting done 3-zip in the Origin series, and Paul Green being the Queensland coach in 2017.
Perhaps a miracle will happen and I’ll back the winner of the race that stops our nation, and thus join Big Mal as a nine out of tenner.
But I reckon it’s far more likely I’ll end up in Bo Derek’s tent and score a perfect ten.
Don’t say I didn’t tell ya, and don’t you worry about that.