Perigo’s Perspective: Men’s Rugby As A Non-Woke Metaphor – 20 Jul 2023

What a piece of worke is a man! how Noble in

Reason? how infinite in faculty? in forme and mouing

how expresse and admirable? in Action, how like an Angel?

in apprehension, how like a God? The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals! …

These words of Hamlet were at the forefront of my mind on Saturday night as I watched the express and admirable form and moving of the All Blacks against the Springboks. What pieces of work, those men. What gods! What animals! Richie Mo'Unga, Aaron Smith, Barrett, Barrett and Barrett, Will Jordan, Shannon Frizell … all of them! What a show!

As a child I eschewed rugby. I was hopeless at it, didn't understand it, or the point of it. I did listen to commentary on the big matches … but that was because of the commentator, Winston McCarthy. He was mesmerising.

As I grew up and realised what was what with me, even the soft porn aspect of all these athletic young men in tight shorts chasing each other, grappling and groping in sprightly dance, in pursuit of a ball, didn't draw me in to rugby. The commentary remained stellar, and still does, from Grant Nisbet and Tony Johnson and eloquent ex-All Blacks such as Jeff Wilson and Justin Marshall; but it's only of late, as evil Woke-Fascism has come to permeate almost everything, that I have become really passionate about my rugby … because rugby seems to be the last hold-out against Woke-Fascism. Rugby is systemically, impregnably, magnificently anti-Woke!

The men of rugby don't get pregnant or pretend they're able to. All Blacks don't seek to play for the Black Ferns, creating an uneven playing field. There are no safe spaces for snowflakes on the rugby field. There are no safe spaces or snowflakes, period. Everywhere is UNsafe. An All Black's pronouns are he, him and his. Players are where they are entirely on their merits. There are no Diversity, Equity and Inclusiveness quotas in the selection of an All Black. (Odd, isn't it, how genuinely diverse the palette is in the absence of such evil!) The unabashed object of rugby teams is to WIN against their opponents.

If the losers' feelings are hurt, tough! Preceded as they are by a ferocious war dance, rugby matches are toxic masculinity at its most glorious. Objective rules are scrupulously enforced by impartial referees, even in the face of jeering crowds who are NOT impartial. No element of, “Sigh. I just don't feel like disallowing forward passes today. Or at any rate, All Black forward passes. Maybe I could rouse myself if the South Africans did it.” If only the US Department of Justice and FBI were like our rugby referees when it comes to Beijing Biden the Bastard's attempts to put Orange Man Bad in jail!

And the rugby crowds are back, maskless, joyous and free, as before Jacinda Jackboot's disgusting lockdowns and mandates. As delightfully, deliriously crazy as they were in that Winston McCarthy clip.

So were they at the Wimbledon final, where gods Novax and Alcaraz took their heavenly final down to the wire. In form and moving, how express and admirable. The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals. What pieces of work!

But then, at some point, one painfully encounters the menstrual parts of Hamlet's monologue, where the sky itself, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, is nothing but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. Man is but the quintessence of dust. And one reflects that Woke-Fascism rules. Evil politicians and bureaucrats on huge salaries paid to them by us are hell-bent on destroying our freedom. The vile Disinformation Project proceeds apace. Big Sister Jacinda Jackboot is watching you online; that's her special job now!

How edifying and gratifying that, in spite of all, the trophy being contested on Saturday night was … the Freedom Cup!