Round 24

Greetings Sports Lovers

After the underwhelming response to my call for footy-isms, I am pleased to present the following submissions:

"Take it easy boys you’re playing Carlton. Save your strength for a real team" - a bloke
best: "take him off"
worst: "woof woof woof" - a sheila
after missing a goal - "saw ya leg off" - another bloke

Tomorrow will see one of the AFL's annual events - the Last Game At Victoria Park. The place should've been condemned years ago. You can smell the foul stench of the place from the train - even the express trains - that pass by this devil's cauldron. I was horrified when I discovered that my train goes past this hive of villainy and scum. So twice a day I am treated to the Outstanding Architectural Monument. Brisbane - do us a favour and trounce 'em.

Dons vs Dees - they should just call this game off and give the MCG a rest.

Bulldogs play Port Adelaide at Carlton's home ground. Graham Cornes' offspring isn't playing for Port. If Port win by a MASSIVE margin, they may play each other again next week.

Weagles play St Kilda at the WACA tomorrow night. If the Saints were a horse, they would've been put down. They're a joke. So are the Weagles (please don't dazzle me with statistics re the Weagles being the "Team Of The Nineties" - it just don't cut the mustard) so this will be a battle between two teams desperately out of form. Doesn't auger well for the Weagles' chances in the finals. (yay!)

Adelaide play the Kangaroos on Sunday. It's Malcolm "Confusing Sayings" Blight's last game in charge of the Crows. My inside information is that Darel Hart will be the next coach of Adelaide. Then again my inside source is a Crows supporter - ie moron.

Geelong and Freo will have a quiet trot round the park down at Sleepy Hollow on Sunday. Will it be Barry Stoneham's last game?

Hawthorn play Sydney in the final home-and-away match at Waverley Park. Should be a rippa.

Tonight Richmond and Carlton will set the MCG alight with a dazzling display of precision football. One for the connoisseurs of Fine Football. I'll be there, munching on escargeaux (but certainly not spelling it), sipping champagne, laughing raucously at the witty double entendres old Johnners comes up with. He's a gas, old Johnners.