Comedy gold from he of the ever-expanding head, Collingwood Football Club president Eddie “Boney M” McGuire, addressing his troops in the wake of the recent drink-driving scandal involving key players Heath Shaw and Alan Didak:

On Monday (Eddie) McGuire lectured Collingwood players about their responsibilities and highlighted how much sacrifice club officials, including himself, had made.

It is believed Mr McGuire indicated being president had cost him “four or five” Gold logies.

My valve!

My brother, a Collingwood fan, works with a mad Geelong supporter who’s heading straight to tonight’s match after work but was foolish enough to leave his Cats guernsey in the office when he stepped out to visit a client earlier today.

My brother, ever the helpful soul, kindly hung it up for him.

You, sir, have been pwned.

Some months ago I was running late to meet Billybob on a Carlton street corner for our weekly squash game. I arrived having made him stand there for about ten minutes and offered my apologies. Billybob, born and raised in London, was incensed that he’d been asked for change three times, because that never happens in London. Around this time he was on the market to buy a house and the change incident firmed his decision not to buy in Carlton or its surrounds.

Last weekend Goobermetrics and The Amy Commission moved into their new apartment in Collingwood and I popped over on Thursday to check it out and give it the official GrodsCorp seal of approval. Waiting at the front door for Goober to buzz me in I was approached by a guy who looked exactly like David Wenham in Gettin’ Square (right). “Excuse me, mate,” he said in a voice exactly like David Wenham in Gettin’ Square, “can you get me any marijuana?”

Recounting this amusing tale to Goober and TAC inside over coffee (apartment got tick of approval, by the way — very nice) they declared that it’s lucky David Wenham had not approached Billybob on his first visit as he’d never come back.

And what is it about me getting approached to buy or sell drugs? About a week after McBec and I moved into GrodsCorp’s Brunswick HQ I was walking along our street when a car pulled over and some dodgy looking guy stuck his head out. “Mate, do you wanna buy some weed? Good shit,” he said.
“No thanks. I’m pretty good at the moment,” I replied.
“How about a stereo then?” he counter-offered.