Suck The Dick Off A Cold One With Our Official Origin II Drinking Game

By

Published

May 31, 2017

Game one is in the can and a ferocious thumping at the hands of New South Wales has the maroon boys in Queensland well and truly on the ropes.

But if there’s one thing you should never do it’s count out a Queenslander in STATE OF BLOODY ORIGIN.

Game two between Queensland and New South Wales is finally, and what better way to compliment screaming yourself hoarse at those bastard Maroons/Blues than by pouring a Thursday-ruining amount of booze down your gullet (responsibly, of course).

But where’s the fun in simply swigging whenever you feel like it? There’s only one thing better than drinking, and that of course is drinking in adherence to a strict set of completely made up, totally arbitrary rules, as dictated by some shithead from the Internet. Just as God intended.

Folks, it’s the 2017 STATE OF ORIGIN GAME TWO DRINKING GAME. Prepare to call in crook tomorrow. It’s fucken serious now.

SIP UPON THE FROTHY BEAST WHEN…

A shot of Paul Gallen on the ANZ Stadium big screen causes a cheer so loud it gets shut down by the NSW Government.

Frankly it’s a miracle the bastard NSW Government hasn’t found a way to include these games in the much loathed lockout laws. A beer? On a Wednesday night? After 10pm? Absolutely preposterous. The great Blues warrior from the Shire is a revered figure in NSW only because he was on their side. Wherever you are, when he appears, drink up and be thankful you’re not trying to get a post-dinner bottle of red in the Cross.

u ledge.

Someone in your immediately vicinity sarcastically remarks about the “sportsball.”

There is absolutely always one in every room. The self-important twat who mistakenly believes organised sport to be intellectually inferior to his (it’s always a he) much more refined and artistic pursuits of collecting the dole and sucking off $12 bottles of shit shiraz. “Oh, the sportsing man hit a point! Look at them all sporting each other. Don’t you think this is all wildly homoerotic? I sell merkins on Etsy.” Drink, because the alternative is punching them, and it’s far too early in the week to get kicked out of a pub.

In the (hopefully) likely event of a fight.

Origin traditionally draws in gargantuan ratings and while it’s true that the united populations of QLD and NSW are a big cause of that owing to being batshit crazy for it, casual viewers from Victoria and elsewhere are also drawn in. Not for the spectacle, or the tradition, or the majesty of the sport itself. It’s for the fights. It’s because they heard there’s a chance there could be a good, honest donnybrook. No one’s proud of it, but here we are regardless.

Anytime there’s a try.

As straightforward as straightforward rules get. The boys just showed up on the field, so you’d better show up too.

Anytime a disinterested Malcolm Turnbull is shown on screen.

Of all the great pains our dear PM has to endure, “pretending to know about sport” is perhaps the biggest. But as much as he might be a complete bastard re: sport, he is New South Wales’ complete bastard about sport. And don’t any of you forget it. Blues fans, drink for the fearless (lol) leader. QLD fans, drink and mull the time Kevin Rudd got shitfaced on mangoes at Lang Park (probably). One for the country, folks.

Hurrrrrrrrrrr.

Anytime the on-field mics pick up an over-enthusiastic Queenslander in the stadium shouting “EIGHT IN A ROW!”

The game’s in enemy territory tonight, so it’s a brave soul ringing that mantra out around the confusing and poorly turfed corners of ANZ Stadium.

Anytime you get Thirsty for Thursto.

THE BOY IS BACK IN TOWN. He spent game one healing up one of the 1,500 injuries that carries at any given time, but tonight the Hail Mary has been thrown. JT’s back, baby. Salute the great man with a hearty swig.

Anytime the camera does a dramatic pan around commentators on the field.

There’s nothing wrong with Michael Bay‘s films. They’ve got their place. You can’t eat restaurant-quality food all the time, after all. Sometimes you just want to eat undercooked nuggets in the dark while thoroughly hating yourself. It’s all about balance. But the needless, nausea-inducing dramatic pan has, mystifyingly, become a staple of Origin broadcasts in recent times. Maybe it’s because Channel Nine is trying to ramp up the drama. Maybe their steadycam operator has been trying to put together a Hollywood sizzle reel. Maybe it’s because if you keep the camera moving no one will focus on Phil Gould‘s stiffy. Whatever the case, this is sport. Not fucking ‘Bad Boys.’ Drink.

You spot the lone QLD fan sitting in the stands in a sea of Blue.

There’s always one guy who boldly dons his colours in enemy territory. But how the hell did he wind up with that seat? Is it a corporate freebie? Did he win a radio call-in competition? Does he secretly have a death-wish? Sip in utter silence, matching the reaction he clearly got while trying to shuffle through the row of bemused New South Welshmen. The bravest of souls.