Tries: S Piutau, S Fisilau, A Tuala
Cons: D Cummins (2)

Guts, guts, guts and just a smattering of white-hot Uren. I've seen a few Harbour games down the years and one thing we could rarely be accused of is possessing that little quality called ticker, but if one match against a shit Scum side and one match with one of the grossest refereeing over-reactions in living memory is what it takes to open up the old arteries and get the blood pumping again, then bring on Eden Park and red cards every week.

I'm joking, of course. F**k Eden Park and f**k red cards -they can lick my flaky ball-sack.

First, let's be magnanimous to the referee because, after all, he doesn't get a second look and it's a tough job and we won: his was a horrible decision to eject Mailei, but he did spend the next sixty minutes dishing out to us questionable free-kicks and awarding us at least one try that not even Jesus Christ sitting in his fluffy cloud-armchair with heat-seeking FBI-issue binoculars could possibly have seen. Despite being two and a half metres from the 'grounding', he opted to ask his blindside touchy - standing twelve metres away, chatting up some short-skirted, suspiciously youthful teenagers from Hunter's Corner and smoking their weed - for a ruling, which the randy old stoner duly affirmed, God bless him. When the ref stuck his lovely little arm up, I could almost hear the ghost of Joeli Vidiri hoicking out a mouthful of breakfast Triple-Decker Baconator with extra lashings of lard and cardiac arrest.

Dodgily awarded tries aside, let's return to the original indiscretion: if it had been, say for argument's sake, Keven Mealamu or, oooh, Tana Umaga (or Richie McCaw or any other high profile name - even Woodcock ... pause, genuflect, respect the Woodcock, love the Woodcock - who had committed that tackle), would they have seen red? That's got to be the litmus test and on this occasion the touch paper, it must be said, did not turn whatever f**king colour it was supposed to turn. F**k 3rd form science, I say. And maths, while we're at it. (Just joking, kids - try hard at school then you too can grow up to be old and cynical Harbour fans who get drunk and pen missives laced with poison and sadness.)

Now, the Hamster has told me in private - although I don't think he's written it publicly - that Vili Ma'afu is just okay. The editor of this site and I, however, have always thought Ma'afu to be good. Since Tom Chamberlain has returned, Ma'afu has been the form #8 of the NPC. Naturally I don't need to watch too many other games to make this claim - I'll leave that to journalists who get paid far more to do research so that they can write far shittier and more boring articles than me. I've got eyes and I can see what a change has taken place in our forward pack in the last three weeks. For the first six rounds our tight five toiled manfully, only to get isolated or not win enough ball at breakdown because we didn't have the dervish loosie factor; three weeks ago that all changed and I would like use this forum to make a plea to North Harbour to do everything it can to hold on to Ma'afu and Chamberlain. I have in my wallet right now a crisp note with the dignified visage of Sir Apirana Ngata, and I'm willing to offer it as part-payment of their contracts for the next six years.

Too late, just bet on a dud at Addington. Sorry.

Congratulations to all the boys for tonight's performance. To beat any side - even one as piss-poor as Counties - with one man short for most of the game shows true sacks. George Pisi's line-breaking ability appears this year to have diminished, but the boy is tackling like a demon; Rudi Wulf was immense; the front row took on a loosehead prop whose size suggested that he was smuggling seventeen Indonesian refugees in his large intestine, and sent him wheezing to the bench before an hour was up.

Ten years ago I would, without compunction, mercilessly and sans dignity rubbed salt into the wounds of our vanquished Southern brothers. "Get back into your stolen Holdens and, with your severally illegitimate offspring, begone to the paddocks, dales, and tinny houses whence you came," I would have written, humorously ...

'bout right.