By Pieter van Zyl. It was just the other Saturday and I was screaming in the stand When the bladdy stupid referee went and lifted up his hand "another penalty" he said "and yet again against the boks" and something in my mind just snapped like the elastic in my jocks. Piet Potch I said, ou boet you just can't let this go someones gotta get out there and kill the flippin ou. I stumbled to the field vision blurred with all the dop I fell clear over the advert board and landed on my kop. No-one even checked me, no-one saw me coming and then before I knew it I was up and running. Now remember boet, a wing I was when I still played the game and when I hit my sprinting stride it still felt all the same. The crowd they went ballistic, I was sure it was just for me forgotten were the injuries, even the shaky knee. The ref he was still blowing, the fools hand up in the air when I rounded past the scrum and lined him up from there. I hit him like a whirlwind, all boep and balls and grit. and down went the Irishman, that ugly little shit. I heard him scream and whimper and even heard him cry and then that bladdy kiwi lock went and hit me in the eye. Corne was there too and I thought he'd come and help and whip the bladdy Kiwi and make the bugger yelp. but no, they went and left me to the mercy of the guards and the jail and the courts, the whole nine yards. would I do it again,,,you bet your broek I would and so should you okes, you really really should Coz the bokke are the bokke and no ref is ever ever fair and they better just be careful to check that I'm not there !!