The half time entertainment left a lot to be desired!

If anyone has shared in the universal experience that is washing out a milking shed and associated buildings after milking, they will know the stench of animal effluent winding down a drain (soon to empty into a pristine river tributary system). Much the same experience can be had driving from the beautiful surrounds of North Shore City and slowly entering the rural environment that is Waikato. A region where rugby rules supreme in the winter but a more sinister sport; animal buggery, takes over as the preferred choice in the summer.

As we pass over the Harbour Bridge the colour seems to drain from the sky as we move through Scum-land and the lifeless picture of South Auckland and it's wealth less landscape. Over the Bombay Hills and into the union formerly known as Counties, where Super 12 and corporate greed has feverishly raped of her of talent and stolen her very dignity. We turn from the window white with fear knowing that this cruel and unfortunate fate could easily be dished out to us, Taranaki or our sad cousins in the North. Personally I'm more worried about us.

Civilisation turns to rural wasteland and disused fossil-fuel plants of the last millennium.

Getting back to effluent. That would be akin to driving through the "hub" of industry and down the streets strangely named after provinces of Northern Ireland, another troubled and disturbing place. The stench hits you like a pole-axe as you arrive, something pungent about smugness, rural arrogance and a pint of the local draught. I thoroughly hate this place, I know it's hard to believe after this balanced piece of journalism, but a fact is a fact. We don't win down there ever, the Chiefs always hated us and they have an annoying habit of bundling Harbour and the scum together as one happy bleeding society.

Sunday was to prove no exception. It was a fine day but that's about as good as it got.

I should have gone home.

We were late in due to the fact that some blonde/black roots harassed Hamilton housewife was buying tickets for the whole friggin' stand. The beer tastes like boiled shite and the hospitality is that of Jack the Ripper to some poor "lady of the night".

The first half was a malicious plot to build up our hopes like a tower of cards, only to bring it crashing down as the second half brought nothing but grief. I don't wish to dwell on the game or the people that took part in this Shakespearean-like tragedy. It showed us all the flaws that I thought we had managed to shake free and revealed a painful fragility that is not ideal as we approach the semi-finals. A win today would have secured some valuable points and gone a long way to making a great fist of a good season.

As it stands we obviously need to beat BOP and beat them well next week. We can only hope that Taranaki can smother the 'Kato and punish them for the evil that seeps from their pores.

If I can offer Pollock some advice:

1. Get rid of Pisi, I know you like him, but he keeps displaying the undisputable fact that he is complete pish.
2. Get a halfback that can get a ball out before the next coming of Christ.
3. Don't change a third of the team for the hell of it.
4. Settle on a backline, preferably without Pisi in it. Ask Wulf if he knows the word tackle as well as he does money.

Otherwise Mr Pollock I think things are ok.

If we can take something from this fixture it is a solitary bonus point. These points may prove crucial as we approach the end of the 2004 season.