gullybogan

Flickr photo by Navid.73.

Dear Reader,

As you know, since 1995, Anzac Day has been set aside for a titanic clash between two super clubs – Essendon and Collingwood.

It’s a nice idea, to sanctify our most sacred secular day with that most sacred secular activity – football.

Sadly, yesterday, Essendon got to play the role of the Anzacs coming ashore at Gallipoli under withering gunfire.

The new coach, Matthew Knights, is it?, sent them onto the field with this apparent game plan: attack!

Much like the game plan the Anzacs got at Gallipoli.

And, much like a notable deficiency in the game plan of the Anzacs at Gallipoli, he forgot to give them something to do in defence.

Now, if you’re starting to feel that this post is about as interesting, dear Reader, as all those posts that we read from our American cousins about Obama and Hillary, i can assure you that you only have a paragraph or two to endure before i start talking about RAMPANT FEMALE NUDITY. So try to hang in there.

The performance (pronounced: preformance) of Essendon was so terrible that the commentators were starting to suggest that maybe they no longer deserved a place at the Anzac Day match. Maybe it should be a match that teams have to qualify for, based on their previous season’s home-and-away stats.

Not a bad idea, dear Reader.

The one highlight of the afternoon was the unveiling of the newest Footy Legends ad, this time immortalising Bruce Doull, his headband, and his fifteen seconds of fame with the delightfully naked Helen D’Amico.

Now, dear Reader, few teenage males alive at the time and fortunate enough to be living in Melbourne are likely to have been able to forget Ms D’Amico and her stunning appearance in the 1982 VFL Grand Final, despite the passage of more than a generation of years.

Ms D’Amico was suddenly on camera, wearing only a Carlton scarf, and proceeding across the hallowed MCG turf in a manner that was either a dance, or the result of one too many VBs.

A stripper by profession, Ms D’Amico was suitably proportioned and prepared for the inaugural role as footy’s first female streaker, and she cavorted about in a suitably impressive way until someone put a cardigan on her, arranged the tassels of her Carlton scarf over her nethers in a very attractive way, and escorted her from the field.

She had run up to Bruce Doull as her on-field trick. Every streaker needs an on-field trick. You can’t just run about, you have to have a target. Doull was hers. She says she chose him because he was the oldest on the ground, and so she felt she was safest with him.

It’s not clear, dear Reader, what she was expecting the younger players to do with her, in front of a hundred thousand fans.

It had been quite a feisty contest, though, and maybe she was fearing a solid hip-and-shouldering.

Ms D’Amico more-or-less disappeared from our viewscreens for a long time, but now she has been rediscovered, studying at Darwin University. She is a mum, and she is, it would seem, very happy with her life, post-stripping, and post-streaking.

Good work, Ms D’Amico. I wish you well.

Sadly, there is no record of Ms D’Amico’s performance (pronounced preformance) available on YouTube. This seems to be a dreadful oversight, and one that someone must put right!

And so i leave you, dear Reader, with visions of naked female footy fans running about dressed only in club scarves. Make of that what you will.

Yours,
Gullybogan