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Adventpilez 2010 – December 13: Rawr Data Misc Profile: The Twickenham Experience December 13, 2010

Filed under: Random,Rawr Data,Uncategorized — Manpilez @ 5:25 pm
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The first of our festive Rawr Data profiles takes a look at the home of English rugby. Stiff upper lips and Pimms as standard, what.

Behold your huddled masses congregating on the concourse at London Waterloo of a Saturday lunchtime, eagerly awaiting for that platform number to tick over before bundling themselves onto an awaiting Fail Carriage (a model not necessarily created by South West Trains, but steadily employed throughout the network). These are the lucky ones, for it’s the poshos who attempt to join the journey at Clapham or Putney that warrant the most sympathy. Or not. They are that rarest of breeds, anyway: Londoners with cars. Just bloody drive, Tristram.
You start to realise that you’re in the suburbs when things become distinctly green. Don’t be fooled. The roads are still wild enough in TW1 that the neighbourhood goes on lock down on match days, with mounted police keeping a watchful eye over the irate mob who have finally disembarked and are now trudging up Whitton Road with one thing on their minds: being as far away from a train as possible. Oh, and rugby. Plus, beer.
The natives are a canny lot, with many flogging wares from their own front lawn. Your more discerning ticket holder, however, will forgo the myriad grot vans and pop-up BBQs for the privilege of handing over inordinate amounts of cash money once inside Fortress Twickenham. Let’s not forget, after all, that we’re in the borough of Richmond-upon-Thames and the home of English rugby comes complete with it’s very own Pizza Express concession. That’s right. You can have dough balls with your rugby balls. Bruschetta with your blindsides. La Reine with your rucks.
For all this frothiness, good ol’ Twickers can still be relied upon to deliver where it counts and it certainly excels at being a big concrete arena where rugby is played. It also boasts several hidden benefits, should the game you be watching prove less than thrilling: Behold the unnervingly low flying aircraft on descent into Heathrow. Slip out to the Museum of Rugby to… be at the Museum of Rugby. Purchase an England Rugby hi-viz jacket at the RFU shop. Or if all else fails, partake in a parlour game such as The Double Never Ending Mexican Wave or Just Keep Throwing Random Shit in The Air, which was deemed more entertaining than the second half of Wasps v Quins by the crowd at this year’s London Double Header.
The amount of money parted with during the day would make a banker blush, but who cares when swaying merrily homeward with a belly full of 24 carat burgers and diamond infused IPA? The chanting of Swing Low will prevail, even as you and 20,000 of your newest, closest friends are kettled, like so many student protesters, onto the forecourt of a Toyota garage.
Fences are scaled, traffic traversed and then, upon return to the train station, that most English of sports, Queuing, comes into its own. If only they served tea!
When trains are finally boarded, the suburbanites may scuttle back towards Reading and the oiks towards London, but no one is spared the opportunity of getting intimate with a stranger’s armpit or crotch, you know in your heart of hearts that this is what it is to be English. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. Godspeed, sir.
Words by Anna

Adventpilez 2010 – December 9: Snowball Fight, take two… December 9, 2010


Adventpilez 2010 – December 8: Putting on the Gladrags December 8, 2010

Suited and booted… don’t they scrub up well?


Adventpilez 2010 – December 7: Christmas Wrapping… December 7, 2010

Need a hand with your festive ribbons and bows? These boys might be able to help.


Adventpilez 2010 – December 6: We Three Kings of Ospreylia are… December 6, 2010


Newspilez: 10th November 2010 November 10, 2010

Hopefully you’ve noticed that we’ve been away for, er, ages… but now that life and technology are not barring our path to bringing you our unique perspective on the latest Rugby news… and the stuff we missed… we’re back!

Saracens have won the most headlines during our absence, not only did they put everyone out of their misery and sign up twinkletoes from the Ospreys and have their coach Brendan Vetner hit the headlines for all the wrong reasons *again* by getting charged for misconduct, but they also pulled off one of the most bizarre publicity stunts ever in rugby. And we’re talking about a sport that in the last year has had five of Bath in a bed with a bevy of teddy bears, Cappucino-making-bin-collecting Ospreys and, well, Stade Francais. Earlier today Britain’s rugby press were summoned to Suburban London’s Mill Hill to be told that from next season, the boys in black with red smudges will be playing in what will be the only Premiership venue with an honest-to-goodness Tube Station serving it… on a pretend pitch.

Further reports have suggested that despite the media circus called the likelyhood of this actually happening is slim, no planning permission has been granted to make the Barnet Copthall Stadium Premiership-ready and as the London Borough Of Barnet are not the most sympathetic council in the world, topped with the fact that the same space has been denied planning permissio due to neighbour pressure before – it’s not looking all that promising. Though we suspect the fallout will be entertaining to say the least.

Over in Bath, the Blue Black & Whites have been having a bit of a rocky season so far, with some fantastic wins among a spate of gutting losses but with the LV= finally up and running they seem to be getting back on track.

Across the border in Wales, our beloved Ospreys haven’t been doing much better after getting out of the traps a lot slower than the rest of their Magners league colleagues due to injury and the fall-out of Summer International duty, they seem to have fallen foul to a horrible repeat of last year’s season start in which they have played fabulously… for about fifteen minutes a week. Here’s hoping they get back on track once the Magners League kicks in again at the end of November and they can climb back up from their currently depressing 8th position on the League table.

But they did beat London Irish in the first round of the Heiniken cup, so we know their winning ways are in there somewhere…

Their neighbours over the bridge in Llanelli, however have been this season’s surprise. After a disappointing 09-10 season, the Scarlets are currently nestling at 2nd in the table with a measly 4 points separating them from perennial leaders Munster.

Of course, the most compelling stories at the moment are coming from the Autumn Internationals which kicked off in fine style last weekend with a colder, damper version of Super Saturday. Sadly, all thre ehome nations fell short of beating their visitors by margins so similar as to make us wonder if 10 points is a fully accurate indicator of how much better the Southern Hemisphere is currently performing against the North. England, Ireland and Wales all put in valliant efforts and in some areas were clearly the better teams (need we even bring up the paucity of the Australian scrum?) but one thing is for sure, all the respective skippers and coaches need to be taking some serious lessons from this round of internationals if we want to see any of our beloved home nations anywhere near the Webb Ellis cup next year.

Sadly though, it’s not been the standard of play, the champs and chumps, overuse of the term ‘strength in depth’, the citings or even Movember progress that’s been taking up the most column inches this time around as the attendances/ticket pricing debate has been the issue that’s stolen everyone’s attention. Twickenham had 10,000 empty seats, The Millenium Stadium an almost unheard of 20,000 which already captured people’s attention, but it was Ireland who stole the show, no-show wise, with their brand spanking new home stadium opening with around a third of the tickets languishing in the box office. Clearly the respective unions and venues have gotten something (and by something we mean the sheer amount of cold hard cash requred to get through the turnstile)  wrong in these recession scarred times, either that or it’s just too bloody cold but it’s clear something needs to be done to rally the troups and get bottoms rising from seats as the Northern Hemisphere get their proverbial act in gear. Too optimistic? Probably.

In more hormonal news, it’s calander (sic) season so let us know which you’re buying and which you’ll be hiding down the back of the sofa if you find it in your stocking come December. Here’s some sneak previews:

Courtesy of Uncle Gigi

Courtesy of the Laura Crane Trust

Catherine Tates keeps her clothes whilst all around her ar losing theirs in aid of Youth Cancer Charity the Laura Crane Trust


The Manpilez Lexicon August 30, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Manpilez @ 9:13 pm

If it sometimes seems as though we’re speaking a different language, it’s probably because we are. The rest of the time, it’s just our own special brand of madness…

Note: this page will be updated regularly with any new Pilezspeak so keep clicking!

Ellie’s own personal understanding of the face of Andy Powell.

Because one ludicrous jawline-related nickname wasn’t enough for Quagmire. I mean The Big Doc. I mean Doctor Jamie. No, really, I mean Jamie Roberts. The Nickname Magnet.

Big Man, The
Sergio Parrise isn’t the biggest man, but he is a big man. That’s all you need to know.

BOD Almighty
This doesn’t really need explaining. Especially if you’re Irish.

Clean off

An exclamation of Ospreylian origin, generally used with little discretion but with maximum intent.

Genuine Wales-speak. An affectionate hug.

Dieux du Stade, a rugby nudey calendar hiding behind a thin monochrome veil of high art. The brainchild of Uncle Gigi, Stade Francais’ finest and guests have been getting their kit off for a decade all in the name of effective time keeping. God bless you, boys.

Duck Wrangler, The
Of all the mental things Donncha O’Callaghan has ever done, luring a bevy of ducks into a hotel conference suite with a packet of Corn Flakes, merely for shits and giggles, is our favourite. Never stop being you, Donners.

Flautist, The

Riki Flutey. It’s best not to overthink them, sometimes.

Gigi (see also: Uncle Gigi)
Max Guazzini, teak entrepreneur and impressario. Max is the wonderful madman who is responsible for the outlandishly migraine-inducing kits, naked calendars, bizarre publicity stunts and balls-to-the-wall insanity that is Stade Francais. He is Anna’s personal hero.

Genuine fangirl-speak. An especially enthusiastic hug, usually pounce-based.
See fig. a

Pic from Huw Evans (
Hook’d Claw, The
A slightly mean nickname directed at the actually very lovable and downright awesome James Hook. For best effect, adopt a Penelope Pitstop voice.

Ianto (verb)

The act of sustaining a consecutive long-term injury. Said injury may or may not result in the growth of a mullet and production of low budget video interviews with team mates.

There has been much debate (between the four of us, that is) over the one true definition of a manpile. The term was originated by our own Kerrie, who broke down the ancient ritual of rugby thus: “Run, run, run, run, manpile!”. In it’s simplest form, therefore, a manpile is an adequate description of a ruck.

However, given the tendency for rugby boys to be a bit huggy in general, the term has evolved to encompass the kind of victorious group glomp illustrated in fig. b

Picture source unknown

A Pile of Manz

The manpile is an internationl phenomenon:
fig. c

Picture source unknown

Un pile des hommes

fig. d

Image source unknown

Un muccio delgi uomini

(Matt) O’Banahanahanahan
Never seen The Day Today? Shame on you.

A chain of Portugese chicken restaurants of South African origin which the average rugby player appears to think about/talk about/visit approximately seven million times a week. If Nando’s were to ever fall, rugby would surely follow.

Peddlar, The
Another cruel nickname, this came about when Lee Byrne started to encourage the people of South Wales to exchange their unwanted gold for cash money. We love you, Byrney.

Pie Man, The
In 2009, a false pastry idol modelled in the (alleged) likeness of legendary Welsh winger Shane Williams went on tour and caused Lauren to suffer a near-fatal fit of giggles. This article went to great pains to differentiate between Shane (pie) and Shane (man). Thus, a nickname was born.

At the time of writing, the pie was thought to have fired its band and abandoned a tour of North America in favour of a coke-fuelled bender in Paraguay with half a dozen former Whitesnake groupies. The man remains a tiny rugby genius.

An annoying Heat magazine-style portmanteau for Ryan Jones. Don’t look at me like that. We are girls, in case you’d forgotten.

Jones, that is. Come on, he’s a superhero and you know it. He also has a smile that could melt the hearts of a thousand misers and bastards.

Words by the team, explanations by Anna