Tries: L Messam, T Mikkelson,
D Sweeney, H Speight
Cons: C Bruce (2)
Pens: C Bruce (3)

It's a bit infuriating to think that despite this being one of our best forward packs in recent memory, we still can't win very often. We all know the traditional 'Harbour Way': flashy, showpony backs with wacky haircuts who are a bit iffy on the tackle but who can carve up chunks of territory with miracle balls and insane steps; forwards who turnover everything, crumple in scrums, poke each other's eyes out in lineouts, and hit mauls and rucks upright.

This year, everything's gone f**ked-upside. We're winning plenty of ball, doing okay territorially, then throwing it all away. On Thursday at the Babel of Bovine Bestiality we got off to a shocker and although we were victims yet again of a forward pass which led to a try - this one overlooked despite the fact that the ball was passed by the distributor from a metre behind the conveniently visible five-metre line and caught by the receiver a metre in front of it - we couldn't really have any complaints about going behind such was our unwillingness to wake up until the 15th minute. Our middle-row with the indomitable King and the refocused Paulo, along with Chamberlain (yet again) and Ma'afu, continue to do good work around the park. There's some scrummaging weakness in the front row that an amateur fullback/winger like me has no right to analyse, but Reid's doing good work in the tight and, as a pack, our forwards are generally toiling well…although their ability in the first half to make the ball look like it was made out of greased soap smothered in oil wasn't flash. (No matter because every other cunt on the park was dropping it, too.)

The backs kicked like muppets and ran like they were lost. In the second half, they at least tried to look interested, sparking into action with some nice interchanges between Wulf, McPhee, and Pisi the Younger, whilst Pisi the Even Younger had his best game in a Harbour jersey. But it was never very convincing. If top sides give Dick of the Day awards, then Matt France should be wearing a hat with an outsized cock on it this afternoon because he was awful. His cause wasn't helped much by Tuigamala coming on and, after completing the new initiation rite of dropping the ball, providing some much-needed impetus.

We lost, though, didn't we? Again. Didn't even get a bonus point, thanks to a headrush from Wulf who, having looked sharp for much of the game and helping with McPhee to set up a very nice try, decided to rush the Waikato backline like he was some kind of demented puppy. This created a monumental gap for the obese Waikato winger to roll into. Sadly for George Pisi, it would seem that carrying a spare tyre of dairy fat beats 'supplement' muscle in the speed stakes because he was burnt coming across in a poor attempt at cover defence and had to endure a worm's eye view of the largest winger's arse in rugby trundling down the pitch toward the tryline.

We'll beat Bay next week because this is a tight competition, we've got them at home in the white-hot cauldron that is Albany, they're not as good as they think they are, and our unofficial website's better than theirs.

That second reason was a joke, of course. Then we'll go to Wellington and lose.