Don’t you just love the game of rugby? It is raw, body smacking into the body, rough and tumble, a no-compromise war without death, winner takes the glory and the champagne, the losers drown their sorrow in beer and manly tears. It is a game of getting away with as much as you can against the rules both on and off the field. Like any war, the off-field stuff is dominated by out and out propaganda, the truth be dammed, to out-psyche the opposition; and very importantly to belittle and demoralise their supporters.

And so, we get to the news of the day, a little propaganda spat between Ben Smith, the Kiwi sycophant, chief propagandist media hack who came out of the rationality closet a South African hater a long time ago versus the great Rassie Erasmus, a master strategist world cup winning coach, an all-round good fellow and so say all of us.

So, here is what good ole Twit Bennie the Smith had to say in a Tweet on Twitter:

“They are rightfully World Cup holders, but this era of Springboks rugby hasn’t proven to the world they are anything but a good side who won the World Cup with a helpful schedule.”

Of course, that got a whole lot of South African Twits Tweeting like a flock of twittering birds fussing about a snake in the grass looking to devour an unsuspecting Springbok grazing peacefully from the trough of World Cup glory.

That’s when the master of machinations stepped in to calmly calm the ruffled feathers of his flock, put things back into perspective and correct the bleatings of obvious bias with a little animal psychology twittery his own as he tweeted out to the Twit who dared to look down his nose at the current World Champs. He had this to say:

This always made sense to me: A lion doesn’t concern himself with the opinion of a sheep.

I was about to burst out laughing seeing in my mind’s eye good ole Bennie the Smith climbing in some hole in the Twittersphere reserved for supreme Twits with nowhere to hide, but then my brow furrowed. Something didn’t make sense to an average Twit like me. Having no one else to discuss this with, I hurried to awake my other self for an urgent discussion with myself regarding the deeper implications of what appeared to be an ordinary Twitter spat, but just might be filled with hidden meanings and messages.

“So, what do you make of this Twitter spat,” I spat out at myself, drooling in anticipation of a robust discussion with infamous alter ego the Spearman, “do you think it just a tweet in a teacup on the part of Bennie the Smith?”

“Well, he has got a point,” I grumbled to myself in reply, annoyed at having been awaked from my slumbering self, “The Bokka have not played a game since they won the world cup due to a Covid 19 pandemic panic, so they have hardly proven to the world that they are champions indeed”

“Hey, the country was in lockdown for most of the year with restrictions on travel. Who were they supposed to play, themselves?” I countered vigorously, throwing up my hands at such insinuations against the Boks.

“Sure, why not, there are usually 30 men in a springbok squad, they could have done what we used to do at school, nominate two captains and let them choose their sides one by one,” I proposed to myself, rolling my eyes in exasperation that the Boks hadn’t even thought of doing something like that, “besides most rugby nations resumed playing and even Argentina went and beat the living daylights out of the Kiwis.”

“Well, maybe there were other circumstances that prevented them from playing rugby.” I tried a weak defence like a lone full-back against an All Black advancing backline.

“Hey, you may be onto something here,” I whispered to myself, glancing around conspiratorily to see if there were any eavesdroppers about, particularly me in black suits with recording devices and antennas on their SUV’s, “maybe they were following the example of public servants and teachers. Nothing better than getting paid for doing nothing, or maybe they were playing zoom rugby. Nothing better than a good ole game of PlayStation rugby to work up a virtual sweat.”

“Now, now, there is no need for sarcasm here, look the fact is that they won the world cup and therefore are world champions for the next four years, and Kiwi sycophants like dear ole Bennie are jealous that the Kiwis did not win it for the umpteenth time,” I shouted at myself whilst poking myself in the ribs rather vigorously.

“Nonsense,” I retorted in a likewise vigorous manner whilst wagging my finger in my face like ole PW Botha used to do when chastising the opposition in Parliament (Ed: at least you did not use the middle finger pushing up the glasses like Jacob Zuma used to do, so I will allow it), “if I recall correctly the first times the Boks won the world cup, beating New Zealand by a tiny little last-minute drop goal, they then went on a massive losing streak. Likewise, when they won for a second time, they then kicked out their winning coach for ole PDV and again went on a massive losing streak. Covid 19 was merely a fine excuse not to go on another massive losing streak.”

“Come now,” I chided, almost resorting to a Jacob Zuma parliamentary gesture, but pulling back just in time and taking a deep breath to calm things down, “let’s not let the facts get in the way, you sound like a sheep from way down under. I mean are you a Bok supporter, where’s your patriotism, you know green and gold forever? You are going to get Twittered (Ed: another word for being digitally crucified) on Twitter”

“Yes, of course, I am a Springbok supporter, warts and all, faults and all, but facts are facts and we can pretend that all is rosy when it is not, but then we are only deluding ourselves,” I maintained in a pseudo dignified nose in the air manner, “as for the Twits on Twitter, getting Twittered by them is an honour. It simply means you told the truth, which upset the applecart, which then stirred the hornet’s nest, which always releases our inner Twitter Bot in attack mode to cancel the truth of the matter before it infects them. Besides I well recall the scathing opinion of these very Bok Fanatics when the team were on their usual losing streak.”

“Ok, fair enough, so what do you make of Rassie’s reply to the Ben smith tweet,” I tittered to myself, bordering on a giggle.

“Well,” I sniggered back to myself, “it certainly was an insult of the highest order, delivered with enough arrogance to put any New Zealand Rugby supporter, renowned for their arrogance towards others, to shame. That a South African could be more arrogant than the proudest Kiwi must be even more humiliating than being called a sheep, after all, the tally of results on the rugby scoreboards of the world is not too sheepish for the Kiwis who have regularly handed hiding to all and sundry.”

“Hey,’ I suddenly babbled like a gushing schoolgirl on her first date, “now I remember why I woke you up from your mental slumbering, why did Rassie refer to us as lions when we are springboks.”

“Don’t be daft, and quit the schoolgirl act and act like a man, man,” I yelled at myself and giving myself a good clip on my ear, “he was referring to South Africans in general as lions and New Zealander’s as sheep, or in translation from sarcastic English into plain old English, we south Africans could not care less for your opinions on the matter.”

“Come on,” I snapped back at myself and giving my other ear a whack back in retaliation, “start thinking in terms of rugby propaganda wars and psychological strategy. He mentioned lions and the British and Irish Lions are coming on tour soon, maybe the aim was not so much at the Kiwis but the Lions.”

“Aah, I see you have unleashed your inner conspiracy theorist,” I sneered at myself, “explain how this is some kind of subtle message to the Lions if you can.”

“Sure that is easy,” I gloated at myself and tousling my hair, “Bennie the Smith, the great hater of South African Rugby is hoping the Lions give us a thumping to put us back in our place of supposed inferiority to New Zealand Rugby by proving his theory that we are not worthy champions and is using that very theory to try and psyche the Lions into believing that the theory is true, whilst at the same time trying to demoralize the Springbok team into thinking that their world cup win was just a fluke by insinuating that they were afraid to play rugby last year for fear of encountering a losing streak in the hopes that the Boks will be insecure and therefore over-prepared and perhaps doubtful of their abilities resulting in under-performance and basic mistakes which will cost them series against the Lions and restoring the New Zealanders boasting rights that they are the greatest Rugby Nation once more.”

“Now that is a mouthful,” I gushed at myself giving myself a high five which went awry, almost giving myself a bloody nose, “but that explains Bennie the Smiths message what of Rassie’s.”

“That too is easy, Rassie the master rugby wargamer was deviously advising the Lions not to give heed to Bennie the Smiths opinions in the hopes that they would get sucked into the merits of the opinion and therefore begin to believe that Springboks will be a pushover and so become overconfident and under-prepared and will succumb to basic mistakes when the Boks come out dominant and strong.”

“What a brilliant imagination you have,” I muttered to myself sarcastically, “well, we will have to see what happens when the time comes, in the meantime, we will get some indication of where the Boks stand when they take on the Georgians. The last and only time they played each other was the 2003 World Cup when the Boks won 46-19. I’m sure Bennie the smith is hoping for an epic humiliation like Japan once gave the almighty Springboks.”

“Hmm, I think it’s about time you went back to sleep,” I said to myself in a dismissive tone of voice.

“Great,” I replied to myself, yawning, “Don’t wake me for anything important.”