The Roar
The Roar


Oh boy, let's start a real Australian Code War

Roar Guru
9th March, 2011
3254 Reads

I want to start a code war. Every now and then one threatens to erupt on The Roar but far too often they end with some sanctimonious poster killing it off with lovey-dovey calls for tolerance, maturity and respect.

What a crock.

I want a real, big code war with dummy spits, ignorance and absolutely zero sense of humour. No holds barred stuff, you know. And I want a guy called Brick killing another guy on a horse with a trident.

By way of referee I will gladly offer my services.


I can be impartial. I can act with honest disinterest. Sure there was a time when my love of rugby would have clouded things but I’m fine, I’m bang up for this.

Trust me, let’s go.

Right, would all the mungos, woofy Victorians and foreigners go and take your places under the league, AFL and football banners respectively.

Rah-rahs sit tight – we’ll do like the Yanks and let this war roll on a bit before getting involved.


Better still, rugger buggers, let’s help them along a bit. I’ll need an agent provocateur to don a Rabbitohs jersey and tell the first bloke in tight shorts he sees that AFL has the international appeal of Ian Turpie.

Then we’ll drop some leaflets over the greater South-East Queensland area reminding them that the Gabba now belongs to Fitzroy.

Quick, one of you blokes google the TV viewer numbers from the last football world cup and post it under the name SerbianSkipBasher.

We’ll have to stay ready for the counter attack. Some leaguie is sure to mention a French bird named Vicky at some stage. Tell him about Lenin-banned rugby but you don’t hear us sooking about it.

Some football kid will probably roll out the word ‘global’. Do not engage.

If we have to we’ll bring in reinforcements. You know those fat, pompous, blazer-wearing, whinging English rugby types we’re always umm … whinging about? Yeah, well, they’re our friends now.

Butter them up with a heartfelt appreciation of Martin Johnson or some such tosh.

We all know they couldn’t draw a backline with a Dan Carter shaped stencil and are the worst thing to happen to rugby and all that but we might be out-numbered here if we’re not careful.


Get the Jarpies in on this too. I know, I know, I don’t like them, you don’t like them but do you think George Bush really liked Tony Blair?

Besides the South Africans are angry little buggers when they get going and we’re going to need that.

Avoid relying on Kiwis if you can – they’re a godless people. The only thing they want more than the nuclear annihilation of Australia is to move here.

I wouldn’t be surprised if history reveals that they sabotaged the Gallipoli landings just to see an Australian defeat.

The other islands are good though.

Just like the Wallabies, we’ll need to borrow a few Polynesians here and there to add a little taro-fed bulk to the squad.

Besides, everyone loves a Samoan. They’re the guys with the little guitars, right?

If we ever do get caught in a pincer movement between two of the heathen codes I’m going to need a volunteer for a suicide mission.


Belligerence and obstinacy will serve that man well. He’ll need to charge straight in with the complete list of every glassing, arrest, defecation and assault that has been even loosely attributed to either league and AFL players.

While he’s getting shot down with the rap sheets of Kurtley Beale and Quade Cooper, the rest of us will attempt to outflank them from the high-ground of Olympic inclusion.

You’ll all need to learn and remember the names of at least two players from the Indian sevens team at last year’s Commonwealth games.

A word of caution –  be on guard for so-called ‘wise old heads’ who’ll attempt to halt the battle and enslave us all to their peace-loving namby-pamby-ism.

You should be able to spot them if you look for words like ‘appreciate’, ‘mutual’ and ‘Sheek’.

If we play our cards right this should come down to a two-code shoot-out with our boys on the front foot. That’s when we go for the big push. Be prepared to display heroic amounts of hypocrisy.

If we’re left facing the leaguies or ping-pongers, get your retaliation in first.

If your sports were more entertaining then more countries would play them. That line will be your bread and butter, just close your eyes and repeat it. If that doesn’t work try confusing everyone with the word indigenous.


If its the football boys, and god help us if it is, we don’t really have much of a plan.

Hint at effeminacy, question orientations; never be afraid to bowl underarm. See if you can buy us here at HQ some time as our battle plans haven’t really been updated since the 1950s.

To be honest, if the football boys ever got their act together in Australia we’d all be buggered, so best just to hope they keeping bringing themselves down.

Of course, this whole thing could just blow over next week.

I mean, how on earth the love of one sport could necessitate animosity towards another is as marvellous a facet of human behaviour as the ability of religious extremists of any creed to differentiate between themselves.

Maybe we need to be different from each other.

Maybe this short, meaningless existence fills us with the fear of being washed over like another completely replaceable grain of sand on the beach.

Caught under the breaking waves, we cling to something, anything, to pledge our allegiance to, something that we might be remembered by even if it is the most trivial of preferences and discriminations.


What a waste. What a stupid, pointless waste of what energy I have left.

Oh bugger this, I’m getting all emotional. Let’s get this thing on before I start crying like a little football girl.