I am an All Black

So, I am an All Black. Well, not really, but I can play rugby like an All Black. Ok, that’s a lie, but I am built like an All Black. Plus the beer gut. Ok, so I look like a retired All Black. With a teeny weeny bit of extra kilos.

Oh, ok, you rumbled me. I look like a retired All Black with a weight problem. Without the cauliflower ears, the sports car or the gambling habit, but at least I lived in North Otago for 6 years, and I know the sister of an All Black.

But today I feel like an All Black. Because today the All Blacks played one of their best games ever (with abysmal kicking, but what can you do) and I watched it on an Ipad, in bed, with the best ever girl friend cuddled up to me, hurtling abuse at Australians (her, not me).

So today I am an All Black. Me and the other million exiled Kiwis in London.

It’s been so long.

Wonderful video, cracking tune, but I’ll never forgive Greg Johnson for cancelling his gig at the Penguin Club.

*shakes fist