SASSY TOWN FOLLIES by Felicity Appleton, no. 35 October 8

Eruptions of Joy  

Kikki is very excited. So excited she can hardly speak. She just keeps stamping her feet and screaming. It can be quite embarrassing if there are guests in the office. Jonesy actually asked me to have a word with Kikki and tell her to “tone it down”. Jonesy wasn’t too annoyed, because he’s quite excited as well, about the same thing, and he was able to tell the lawyers representing a certain Hollywood star whose name rhymes with Treble Milson that his marketing director was just being a bit exuberant because her football team won the NRL grand final on Sunday.

It’s Jonesy’s team too. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. One of the reasons Jonesy and Kikki get on so well is sharing a team. They both love rugby league and they really love the Roosters. I mean really love. I laugh at them. So does Cheryl from accounts. We both make fun, but on a Monday morning Kikki will tell Jonesy what her dad said about the game on the weekend and then they will talk about what they both think and where they watched the match and what they think will happen next and all that, and it goes on and on, and I don’t understand any of it. I usually walk away.

It’s lovely to see them so happy. They wore their scarves on Friday but both of them seemed distracted right through the day, as if there were nerves or something. You couldn’t talk to either of them, not for long anyway, before they would become sort of quiet and forget what you were talking about. They kept having little huddles together, little chats. If you aren’t a fan you just can’t understand apparently. It must be something like when Joey Wang made it to the last week of Australia’s Got Talent last year. I could hardly breathe then. Kikki reckons it’s about fifty times more intense than that. She said her brother Trent has already got a tattoo of a Rooster and the year – she says you wouldn’t get a tattoo of Joey Wang, and I suppose she’s right.

But I don’t get it. The football I grew up with was rugby. That’s what the Frencham boys played and the First XV was the best rugby players in the school. The top team. When Heather and I got to know the First XV – when they added us to the list for their parties – they told us that rugby was the best game on earth and to have nothing to do with rugby league. We didn’t know what they were talking about and just kept drinking the Midori and lemonade and trying to create opportunities to kiss Stephen Barclay. God, he was hot! He looked like Robert Pattinson, but more athletic. He was perfect.

Which means I don’t really know anything about the Roosters. It’s a team from the Eastern Suburbs, and I live in the Eastern suburbs, so I suppose that makes it my team. That’s what Kikki says. Jonesy says it too. I don’t know. I’m not sure that I care. But I do know that Brett Docker plays for them – he’s in all the magazines, single, then dating, then single, abs like a ripply shelf of chocolate cake with caramel icing. Yum!

Brett has a Jack Russell puppy which fits in his hand. It’s adorable. And so’s he. Kikki says Brett is her favourite player, and he’s mine too, although I know nothing about footy.

It’s nice to see friends happy.

Published in: on October 8, 2013 at 7:28 pm  Leave a Comment  

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