Danny Cipriani who had sex with a man

 

Danny Cipriani who had sex with a man. Is this the best nickname in sports history? Gene Wilder once said about comedy: “ If the thing you’re doing is truly funny, you don’t have to act funny doing it.” This theory undoubtedly applies here, the impetus for the nickname is so truly funny, that there is no need to be truly clever and witty regarding the actual nickname. It is truly funny.

 “Danny Cipriani who had sex with a man” is of course the nickname given by his Wasps’ team mates to Danny Cipriani, the English Rugby’s prodigal son/stand off, who, as the name may suggest, had sex with a man.

 Rugby is a sport which from an organic grassroots level prides itself on lewd behaviour. To many rugby players, nothing would be funnier than a penis slapped across another man’s face in the name of banter? But what if this turns sexual? Is it still banter or was Cipriani climbing up a precarious mountain, to a crescendo of rampant rugby tomfoolery, before ultimately falling off the cliff when he engaged in sexual relations with a man.

The justification could lie with the fact that Cipriani is the ultimate Rugby boy, so sure he is of his sexuality that having sex with a man is like water off a ducks back (I could have used different images rather than water and duck there, which I am sure you could all imagine, however I feel that would have me teetering on my own cliff of lewd tomfoolery). His team mates, the one who have christened him with such an inspired nickname, well they are all living a dubious life of uncertainty , while Cipriani is the only one sure of where his bread is buttered as he has tasted everything else on the menu.

 Cipriani of course did not have sex with a full blown man, merely somebody who used to be a man, transgender, post-op, now a full on lady, Larissa Summers. More a halfway house of ambiguous sexual experimentation, rather than a full on declaration. This undoubtedly provides England with a sporting identity that they had been lacking. Scotland’s sports stars were renowned for falling to the temptation of alcohol, the sports stars of Italy, often corrupted by the leanings of facism , while where would America’s sport stars be without a constant barrage of speculation of murder and rape. Cirpriani with the help of Soccer prodigy Wayne Rooney have provided England with that cloudy identity for its stars. Sports stars of England are now slightly confused sex pests.

 Because it’s Rugby, Cipriani’s sexual adventures with a transvestite has not been afforded the column inches of Rooney’s copious Granny romps but this could be the story which gets Professional Rugby over the hump and fully imbedded in popular culture. Obviously, gaining inspiration from the rise to fame of American comedian Eddie Murphy (Look out for Cipriani impregnating a spice girl, Mel C should fit his tastes). So desperate is rugby to have a Beckham-like star who can be a catch all fame magnet, they tried to turn Gavin Henson into one despite the fact Gavin Henson is a hermit with about as much charisma as a baked bean.

 Cipriani, was not even content with just the whole, having sex with a man debacle. He also went out with a Cheeky Girl (if that doesn’t show ones commitment to a life of fame, then I don’t know what does) and appeared on the ridiculous, “My Super Sweet 16” UK. These were obvious failing as a Cheeky Girl is hardly a Pussy Cat Doll par example, and when he appeared on “My Super Sweet 16” he did not even get selected as an escort, meaning he failed in an attempt to attract the very people who make a sports star jump the popular culture icon river, he didn’t appeal to the MTV generation of spoiled tarts with Daddy’s disposable income.

Cipriani was set to enter the fore for England against Scotland, and Mike Blair planned to “take out” Cipriani, (presumably through method of distraction by having Rory Lamont run at him with his genitals between his legs.) but due to him appearing at a Night club past his bed time, Cipriani was dropped. However it shouldn’t be too long before Cipriani replaces Wilkinson, who is doing a great job of turning his career into a Michael Owen tribute act, and once he appears in the team, the more the papers can revel in his maverick sexual exploits.

The hot topic of debate in the U.S.A. is whether Lebron can outshine Michael Jordan. Many dismiss this as impossible, but others, such as Bill Simmons point out that MJ was only beginning to emerge as a superstar at the age Lebron is already. We can perhaps mirror this in the UK. Many people doubt whether Cipriani can be the next ultimate proto-sports-celeb, however, we must remember he is only 20 and has already had a sex scandal, a celebrity girlfriend and a national team selection controversy. Beckham was 21 before he bagged a Spice Girl, 27 before his Rebecca Loos sex scandal and 32 before his massive national team selection debate. Cipriani has time to eclipse Beckham. Some say kiss enough frogs and you’ll find a prince, but Danny, hump enough transsexuals and you’ll eventually find your media obsessed pop star slag to put on your arm and make you into the next sports superstar.

Inhaling the sour aroma of guilt.

 

 

I sit here, alone. Round my neck I have my medals for winning a couple of local rugby tournament in Primary school, a medal which I received for coming 2^nd in the class sprint in Primary 7, my swimming badge from scouts, a most improved award I won at Center Parcs Football camp and of course, as every school child in Britain has, about 50 medals from “Goals” won at Birthday parties. I could go on but I don’t want to make anybody jealous of my embarrassment of sporting riches.

Undeniably, my peak is long gone, forgotten in the annuls of time with only a few badges and tinny medals to console me as I cry into my pillow. I thought the crying had stopped, finally I had come to accept the realisation that I would never live the life of a professional sportsman. I came to accept that I could just snipe bitterly at those more talented and use that to compensate for my comparative failings. As I attacked their success in front of the television, I could take solace in my own past modest achievements.

But it appears all this could be in jeopardy. My last clutches to sporting success in peril. As a child, from birth through primary school, I suffered from asthma. Somehow I overcame asthma to win the aforementioned cub scout swimming badge, I believed it was all attributed to my tenacity, but I must say thanks to the help of a medicine called Bricanyl. To calm my asthmatic ailments, I took a bricanyl inhaler every day. These helped me participate in the same sporting experiences that my fellow children enjoyed, without the trappings of asthma. Sometimes I’d self medicate and give myself a few more puffs at times of strenuous activity, due to my desire to win.

Then I read the newspaper.

Scott Macleod, a Scotland second row, stood accused of violating Rugby’s drug abuse policy. What was the offending article? A bricanyl inhaler. I read this dejected, although he was cleared .As the times HILLARIOUSLY quipped “Now Macleod can breathe easily”, (It’s cause he’s asthmatic and asthmatics have trouble breathing….but he was also breathless due to the stress of the thought of being banned, but now that he is cleared, he no longer has trouble breathing as the stress is absent. But he is also able to use his inhaler so that will help his breathing additionally. GET IT? IT’S A PUN. For more awful puns, see the title of this blog.)

Were my humble successes all down to my daily dose of bricanyl? Could I not even count these medals and badges among the few things that keep me warm at night? My whole sporting life has been a lie. Every game of rugby, every game of Football, every race, my few attempts at golf and tennis, all lies, all just mirages in a drug fuelled frenzy as I puffed on my inhaler (or as I now refer to it “the juice”. ) to give me that winning edge.

I can’t live with the guilt. Tommorow, I am going to drive to “Goals”, The cub scout hall, Center Parcs, my primary school and Greenock Rugby club . I will hand back all my winnings. You can take my medals, but with it, please take my guilt. I don’t want to know in the back of my head that I cheated all a long, the slate should be wiped clean. Only then can I live free.

The same must be done for Scott Macleod, he must have all his sporting achievements stripped. Admittedly, that will leave more of a void for Macleod than it will for me. But finally he can live free. I would call for Scotland to be stripped of all this season’s 6 nations wins but unfortunately, that is not an issue. What might be an issue is if tomorrow the team doctor diagnoses the entire team with asthma and prescribes Bricanyl and suddenly Scotland might win. How would Scotland as a nation feel then? Would they be grateful of their modicum of achievement? Don’t do it Scotland, it will only bring you the same happiness that I will feel tonight, in my room now shorn of medals with the stench of guilt.