>What? Wow, that's savage. An entire season, for one post in which I failed to
>adequately inflect my response? One game would be extreme, given that it would
>condemn me to two hours minimum of boredom and frustration punctuated by
>painful embarrassment and bad childhood flashbacks (the "bad" is probably
>redundant there), bookended by probably an hour of travelling in close
>proximity to people who make me want to scream, cry, or intervene. I think I'd
>find a different confessor. Though, to be honest, I'm vaguely impressed.
You're going to need a guide and interpreter as well. (I know I would, the rules and etiquette of Rugby are a complete mystery to me.) I think Alan Jones would be the right man for the job.
I suspect this will make the experience even more unpleasant, but perhaps if someone explained the mysteries to you, there might be some chance of redemption. But if you can bring yourself to feign some contrition, we might reduce the sentence to one or two Rabbitoh games.
Bill Bartlett Bracknell Tas