An absolutely arrogant and stupid request from the Roosters management
Once again they prove that they really only have their interests at heart, and not looking at the greater picture. Imagine in 50 years time....the Roosters would be like the f**king Manchester united of the NRL, but they would be playing in empty stadiums against teams that are severely fiscally handicapped and cannot compete with the likes of them
If the Roosters so desperately need a champagne and caviar allowance in the salary cap, then why in the name of f**k don't we give salary cap concessions to MELBOURNE, forget their News Ltd pedigree, we really need to support the game in frontier areas, and I'm sorry roosters fans, but your district hasn't been a frontier area since 1908.
Why don't we give an allowance to players from the WARRIORS and COWBOYS, for the cost of relocating to auckland and townsville?
Why don't we give an allowance to the TIGERS and RABBITOHS to ensure their long term survival and competititiveness on the field.
This is a very f**king silly request by the roosters and has made be really angry at how selfish they are. They are like children at a fourth birthday party who are squealing for another f**king patty cake.
Even roosters fans must realise just how selfish the clowns who run their club really are.
Finally, let me quote that timeless classic Animal Farm
'Gentlemen,' concluded Napoleon, 'I will give you the same toast as before, but in a different form. Fill your glasses to the brim. Gentlemen, here is my toast: 'To the prosperity of the Manor Farm!'
There was the same hearty cheering as before, and the mugs were emptied to the dregs. But as the animals outside gazed at the scene, it seemd to them that some strange thing was happening. What was it that had altered in the faces of the piags? Clover's old dim eyes flittered from one face to another. Some of them had five chins, somehad four, some had three. But what was it that seemd to eb melting and changing. Then, the applause having come to an end, the company took up their cards and continued the game that had been interrupted, and the animals crept silently away.
But they had not gone twenty yards when they stopped short. An uproar of voices was coming from the farm house. They rushed back and looked through the window again. Yes, a voilent quarrel was in progress. There were shoutings, bangings on the tbale, sharp suspicious glances, furious denials. The source of the trouble appeared to tbe that Napoleon and Mr Pilkington ahd each played an ace of spade simultaneously.
Twelve voices were shouting in anger, and they were all alike. No question, now, what had happened to the faces of the pigs. The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.
