Image Description: A bunch of guys drinking in a bar. While they don’t wear rugby gear, you can imagine they are. And they often say ‘Rah Jonty’ too. Continue. Imagine.
The following text may only be read in your finest Attenborough mental voice.
A homoerotic roar comes from the depths of this prestigious Oxford college. Look! The men enter the bar. Predictably, there are no females. Their plumage is all uniform: spotted chinos, blazer, and — the centerpiece — the prized tie. The hooting, yelling, and wailing begin. They are excited and ready for the upcoming match. This is the male battle royale of the rugby social.
The leader of the pack stands high above the rest. He is smaller than he thinks, with carefully groomed hair and a faint chin. He proposes a game. The peloton cries in agreement. The rules of the game are impenetrable to a bystander, but to the pack they are second nature, imprinted on the memory by harbor, nudity and social awkwardness – perhaps all at once.
They wave their arms vigorously, each time with a specific scream. The shamanic ritual continues around the circle, getting louder with every turn. Bad breath and sexual tension make the air thick. The mammoth prop stands tall and wide, trumpeting, after winning the first arm wrestle of the night. As his victim lies trembling on the ground, he reaches for the nearest glass and pours the entire contents over his elephant’s head. The flanker takes off his pants and begins to squat his entire back. The scrum half is bundled under the table and kicked mercilessly. The two centers, shirtless and cuffed together, form limericks. This is all part of the game.
Oh no! The youngest in the pack fails to make a working cord out of a pair of rugby socks. The mob roared in unison, looking at him like fresh bait. It’s time they punish him. The youth looks around desperately, but is confronted by the sinister glint of the leader’s eyes. A relic is produced by the leader’s succubus and rushed to the bar where it is reluctantly filled with beer. The cacophony intensifies as the relic is presented to the hapless recipient. He brings it to his lips and begins to drink. He is making good progress, terrified of the consequences of failure. The pack is in a state of catatonic bliss. This is the most excitement they’ve had since making eye contact with their loved one at the library.
oh dear. The nectar has risen again and destroyed his suede shoes – and the leader’s too. One member falls from his stool in surprise, another vomits his own stomach in surprise, a third reaches out to the boy to congratulate him. In this culture that is indeed a lot of praise. But for such a violation a further and more severe penalty is issued. Unfortunately we can’t follow the youngster any further. The pair hurriedly disappear into the leader’s stairs. Life in the jungle is often brutal, but always fair.
Image Credit: Getty
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