Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Gin, Lip Gloss and Scrumaging Techniques


The game of rugby has always held a unique position in Irish society, the sport of the landed gentry, the escape route for the working classes and the dreams of the schoolboy. The game once described as a game for savages played by gentlemen has endeared itself to Irish men of all ages and all backgrounds, women have also been long associated with the game of rugby, the proud mother handing her son the Schools Cup probably the most endearing of all images.

However there is a new rugby supporter gracing the Irish rugby scene, one that is re-inventing the basic idea behind a Six Nations weekend and revolutionising supporter behaviour…the rugby mascot! You know the type..female, aged between 23 & 33, private school educated and single minded. They typically gather in a couple of establishments, The Berkely, Searsons, the 51 and of course The Burlington to name a few. Their methods are diverse, their tactics tried and trusted, their aim..always the same….Meet rich men..perferrably of the same social standing and of course of the bearers of considerable wallets!

Like flies to the honey we always fall for the allure of the pretty young things, collars up, long lasting make up on and strategically placed perfume…what rugby man stands a chance. But its not as quick a death as it sounds…the experienced mascot will tell you that it’s a labour of love and that a successful rugby day out comes after hours of groundwork. Firstly…we as men fight a little…three quick pints before the game…laughing at the mascots as they sip their white wines…'silly fairer sex…cant drink to save their lives'. Then with 15mins before kick off…the evacuation begins…men pour out of public houses from all directions…some mascots go also..but generally it’s the girlfriend/wife who is lucky enough to be given a ticket. The others remain…re-apply make-up….and move onto the gin….

80 mins later….an Irish victory that Willie Duggan himself would have been proud of and the slightly frozen men return to the warm embrace of the pub…buoyed by the Irish victory, a certain sense of invincibility flows through every mans veins after watching Jerry Flannery take the best abuse the Scots could muster, smiles and takes some more!! The next hour is crucial…men want to take about the game, who was good..who was bad..why aren't all the Munster team playing for Ireland!…the mascots must now begin to circle..they may be forced to join in the conversation..but with a couple of good rugby seasons behind them..they begin talking about 'how the Bull while an excellent lifter fails in the scrum'….we are done for…beauty…style…and an apparent knowledge of rugby…..what chance did we really stand!!!

As the evening progresses..they collars up small childs rugby jersey is replaced by a fantastic alluring 'going out' top..by now the Mascots have not paid for a drink in about 3 hours..there is talk about grabbing something to eat..que bravado…and a four course meal in any number of restaurants….dosed by two maybe three bottles of wine. At this stage…the poor unfortunate men have reached the point of no return..friends are left to fend for themselves..some cant even remember if they brought their girlfriends/wifes to the game….no no…in for a penny in for a pound and if the mascots have anything to do with it that’s exactly where it will lead…

The end result is of course always the same..Leggs, Lillies, Reynards, 6 bottles of champagne….a couple of bottles of what the barman claims is white wine…shirts are ruined…wallets are empty…the chaps at this stage are now the hunters..waiting for any hint of a slow set to pounce…but then in an instant its over…like the Scottish pack the mascots disintegrate…home safe to the refuge of their manors in Blackrock, Clontarf and Ballsbridge…and the men..well…the Irish man does what he does best..in times of depression…wanders off….finds a chicken burger and curry chips..and returns to base..broke..drunk and well and truly taken for a ride!

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

A truly inspirational insight into the minds of the fooled and the foolers! Having grown up in the illustrious world of private education, I can vouch for the fact that such female predators, sorry mascots do indeed exist. As pointed out, these mascots are all too often mistaken for innocent little virginial girlies who just want to learn more about the majesty that is Rugby. However, do not be fooled by this underhanded tactic. As these 'mascots' look cocquettishly into the eyes of their prey, they know exactly what they are doing...pick em up, stitch em up and ditch em! Consider yourselves warned!

The Special One said...

As an smuigin's galway correspondant i can confirm that this paticular species of rugby mascot have not taken hold here just yet. My sources tell me the lack of a decent rugby team is the main culprit.However the large boisterous and perpetually drunk gaggle of galway women whose only loyalty begins and ends in the gaelic grounds of tuam may act as a deterrent to these cunning vixens.Much like the well drilled english army facing the wild poorly make uped faces of the scots in braveheart with one more lift of their kilts will shock the mascara clad mascots into submission.
Futher updates later........

The Don Of Newcastle West said...

A truly inspirational comment Anonymous- "The Fooled and The Foolers". So it is and so it shall be. It's age old my friends, and will continue as long as there is x and y in human make up, (talking Genitics not Coldplay here people) (though the fairer sex may have something to answer for in the dilution of Chris Martin's musical mind too, but that's for another day!) indeed the dance at the crossroads has morphed into the dance at the Shelbourne Rd/ Lansdowne Rd intersection.

This is one of the more interesting topics of the gender bender. Why is it, in this day and age where women fight for equal rights and even super equality (as in paying 6 times as much for a hair cut than the lads) that they resort to the age old 'impress me with your skills'. The girls in Jury's and Leggs every weekend are barbied up versions of Wilma Flintstone.

That breed of modern women (let it be know that Im not tarring them all with the same brush, we've all gladly ran in the door of leggs in our time, with girlfriends and so on in tow, but there is a difference between the girl there for the craic and what we're talking about, careful with those distinctions!)are chillingly materialist in the most base way.

The truth is that it is still a Man's world, equality is a myth in this age and women are surplanting the myth with shoes, hair straightners and the celebrity boyfriend. Potent symbols of power in a capitalist world. The rugger man, is to the Lip Glosserati, the heady mix of a pair of jimmy choo's with a bank account. And we, the bucko's that stand on the side of the dance floor gazing on are willingly being fooled for what we want, sex. The Fooled and the Foolers indeed, I wonder in the end who is who?

An Smuigin said...

An Smuigin is pleased to report..this latest post has caused many a ruction...the most interesting comment coming from a workmate..that yes there are rugby mascots...but that they can be found in both sexes!!!................................THINK ON.....

Anonymous said...

Jaysus man you're like the culchie Ross O Carroll Kelly......

Buddy said...

Being a former pupil in a rugby school that never did very well it was important to achieve in other areas of the rugby scene. Being female, that meant being a rugger hugger. Standing behind the West Stand waiting for the team to emerge and glimpse them while clutching a glass of white wine in the freezing cold was worth it once you got into the warmth of Jury's to jostle with the Blackrock boys. It's a great fun! Drinking, schmoozing, entertaining...it's just like real life!