And we're back

We may be half back rather than full back, but back nonetheless. Welcome to yet another year of PunchDrunkeness. Most have have bobbed up for more, though it looks like we may have had a few retirements/delistings in the off-season.

In an attempt to conserve energy levels, mine and yours, there will be absolutely no unnecessary added extras this year. We're getting back to basics. No more over-use of the pill. No more lairising. No more champagne. Those migraine-inducing ladders have gone the way of Celebrity Head, GrandSunBall and all the rest of the crap that has landed uninvited in your brainbox. 

Likewise the League of Drunks fantasy league has succumbed to an overdose of Bruce Macavaneyesque Cyril-loving star-fucker syndrome that seems to have overtaken all things AFL. Personality-football crisis I reckon.

Personally I'm sick of the same old stars, the anointed new superstars, tired of the box-ticking templated media articles about Essadon, Hawthorn et al, give me some blue-collar battlers for a year or so. I don't reckon I can even hack any magical stories about Bob Murphy, thanks all the same. Give me some grit, some decent analysis and keep your la-de-da romance stories for the wedding pages.

In other good news, the rules are the same this year. While the main prizes are the same, a reduced number of Drunks means reduced Jackpot money, so back to $10 a week. Which brings me to some important and long overdue social housekeeping. Thanks truly to those many of you who threw extra money into the Save Dick's Arse bucket that Brenton very kindly passed around in the days following the Prize-Giving evening last year. I very much appreciate it, I was a tad stressed and more than a little bewildered and your response led to a far more relaxed Grand Final weekend than it would otherwise have been. Thank you.

That's it for speeches, I'll let the ball do the talking. Enjoy the year, though I reckon it's about my turn to win this thing, so you may be wasting your time.