I was absolutely fucking gobsmacked at that last Lions lineout. Right on the fucking goalline. All the fat Lions gits had to do was catch the ball, form a maul and fall over the trylime. Game over. BLUES HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO DEFEND A ROLLING MAUL. NO FUCKING IDEA. Then the hooker steps up and biffs the fucken thing halfway to Onehunga. Cue gales of laughter.
Marler getting turned over 5 metres out was another miraculously flukey moment. (Double movement? Happens at every second bloody ruck!)
The winning try, Luatua to SBW to West, was gifted from upon high, gifted from upon the deliciously beating wings of the Arch Angle Gabriel, a virginal gift emanating from the almond cleavages of schools of topless angels, trumpeting in sumptuous lilting sopranic unison to herald the envisioned birth of Glory, Jesus, Satan, Santa, Icarus and the Forthcoming Dynasty from Upon High as Foretold in The Prophecy.