Bree has always liked sport. In Hawaii I became something of God in the world of Surfing. Bree may be the only man to surf whilst drinking a bottle of tequila, but then again he may not. Once you’re in the tunnel, under the wave, you have time to do a few things. I chose to drink, no slamers though because that would have been very difficult indeed.
Bree has a friend who went to watch a game of rugby at Rodney Parade the other night.
Look up the game if you don’t know it, it’s like poetry but with more blood.
This is the home of the Newport Gwent Dragons. An ancinet and delapadated ground. My friend spoke about the working class nature of the place that pervades the stands, the beers and especially the latrines. A wall to piss against anyone?
The game was forgettable (aside from the mastery of the Italiana scrum half). The night I’m assured wasn’t.
Now Bree doesn’t see as much rugby as he would like. The desert is pretty unforgiving and I do not have the time but if any of my fans/devotees have the chance, get over to Newport, Wales and for about $20 dollars or so you get an authentic experience.
In this day an age Bree reckons authenticity is becoming very rare indeed.
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