A whisky for the Jar.

No matter where you are on the planet, events from overseas cannot help but impinge on your consciousness. Today, it is the impending England v Rest of the World Rugby match. It is with deep sadness that I note Shaf is to be the manager of the England team. I had previously considered them to be favourites for this year. However, well done for stepping up Shaf, someone always has to do it.The point of this piece is a bit of a soliloquy to Mr O'Brien. Obviously, I can't wish him luck and frankly, I don't even know if he's playing. What I will say is I hope he is (even if he's on the losing side - you can't help where you're born) and that it could easily be the last time a Millwall side is inspired to victory by his mere presence. You'd never think it to look at him but Jar rolling up on a Saturday morning at the farm would instantly raise the game of everyone else who'd bothered to turn up. There would be no more, 'how can I slide away without anyone noticing?', no more 'when will this hangover go away?', no more 'oh you're kidding, is Rachel really driving again?'. Instead, backs would stiffen, shoulders would go back and heads would lift with everyone thinking the same thing, 'Hello, we've got a chance here!'. You see Jar is one of those men that others would follow, yea even unto the next bar, and it is with deep sadness that I contemplate this simple fact, I am unlikely to follow Jar onto a Rugby field ever again. Damn you Barnes! Good luck Jar, in everything you do, but not tomorrow. Come on England.