This Saturday sees the start of the RBS Six Nations for 2013. Despite starting my adventures in the land of the white cloud part of my mind will be firmly on matters further North every weekend for the next seven weeks.

The Six Nations seven weeks is one of my favourite times of year. The nights begin to draw out, it warms up a little and when it doesn’t the warmth from the pub or your house does the trick as you contemplate the Arctic conditions on the pitch while the guys go all out for 80 minutes for Northern Hemisphere rugby bragging rights.
Nothing gets me out of my seat like watching an England game; shouting at the television for the big lads to stop doing stupid things at the ruck, for Ashton to stop pouncing about, pleading with the Southern Hemisphere officials to give us the benefit of the doubt sometimes.
Please?
The pounding of the table at the missed tackles, the very reluctant praise of anything good the French do, the quick to console with any of the Celtic brothers (despite the fact that some patronising English bloke in their face is the last thing they need at that time); yes, the Six Nations is a very special time on Planet Sport.

Then, from somewhere in the Twittersphere this beautiful, beautiful creation turns up.

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Finally, a televisual rugby drinking game to rival Stella With Stelling.

So just when I can’t work myself up anymore about how much I’m going to miss it this year, there’ll be thoughts of my lads (Hello fellas!) whacking fingers of drinks down their necks in a distant pub somewhere every time Brian Moore needlessly gets, let’s say, “deossification” into a damning soliloquy of how poorly the scrums are being reffed. He knows about this new game…. Trust me, he will do this.

Well, enjoy I say. Here’s to an England win, though I fear France will nick it this year. Have several for me and have a cracking Six Nations.

Picture and concept courtesy of @WelshDalaiLama . Great work sir, thank you. If you’re on Twitter, go and have a look.

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