I am the Secret Rugby Player and I am here to tell you that there is more to rugby than being ruggedly handsome and built like a brick sh*thouse.
This week I’ve been out and about, selling tickets for this year’s Sports Ball. If you’re wondering why any self-respecting rugby legend would stoop to promoting the Sports Ball, the answer is simple. The more tickets I sell, the more netball girls I’ll get in the sack.
Giving up my macho, tough-guy image for the sake of selling a few tickets is the price I’m willing to pay if I’m going to take the number of girls I’ve bedded into four figures.
I went to the Sports Ball last year, and went through three girls (each from a different club) in a matter of hours. But that’s enough about me. One particular member of the Rugby Club (also a keen darts enthusiast and expert cricket scorer) drank a modest twenty-four pints.
I know that’s not quite in my league but I’m sure the masses will be impressed by this feat of mind over matter.
Now any night involving proper rugby boozers wouldn’t be complete without the whole contingent being naked at some point. So inevitably I led by getting into my birthday suit on the dancefloor, and everyone else followed by my example. This is when hours of the gym pays off – surrounded by hundreds of girls, all astounded by my Adonis-like physique.
I can tell you my Facebook friend requests went through the roof that week!
In other news, we have a joint social with the wonderful ladies of the Women’s Lacrosse Club this week, and the theme is Toga fancy dress.
Fittingly, Secretary James Munroe’s dear father is currently in Greece. So of course, all freshers have been asked to bring their passports, something I’m sure you will be keen to hear about next week. Personally I’d love to go, I’ve been needing to top up on my tan.
Look out for next week’s instalment, and I’m sure you’ll see me on campus in shorts and flip flops (whatever the weather), looking at my arms in car windows, with my uni stash on and protein shaker in hand.