As a wave of disturbing misfortune sweeps over the All Blacks camp, seeing first five-eighth after first five-eighth fall victim to the same debillitating ‘groin injury’, Steve Pugh of the New Zealand Rugby Union visits 221b Baker Street to seek the services of the famous Sherlock Holmes in the hope of discovering an answer to the mystery.
Sherlock Holmes (for it is he): Ah, Watson by the sound of the loose tread on the fifth step from the head of the stair, we have a client. If I’m not very much mistaken, he is of the rugby union fraternity, and has a companion.
Dr. Watson: You amaze me Holmes! Did you deduce that from the heaviness of the step perchance?
SH: No, he just texted me to say he was arriving.
DW: Ah, thankyou Mrs. Hudson. Lestrade, please come in and bring our guest with you.
Lestrade: Greetings gentlemen. It’s a fine mystery and no mistake Mr. Holmes. Mr. Pugh here will enlighten you as to the details.
Pugh: Good morning gentlemen. Let me begin by saying that the very existence of a Nation is at stake here. If we can’t resolve this crisis, my country might well disappear, as we say, down the dunny.
SH: Come, come Mr. Pugh. I can see at a glance that you are here on a matter to do with groins and injury thereto, petaining to the sport of rugby in particular.
DW: Marvellous Holmes! How did you deduce that? In fact, how did you even say that sentence?
SH: You know my methods Watson. Mr. Pugh, is not that bulge in your trousers indicative of a truss? And I would hazard a guess, judging by the maladjustment and excessive frontal protuberance of same that you are simply testing it, to see if it might aid your ailing sportsmen? Watson, I refer you to a short monograph I have written on the instructive characteristics of the trouser bulge, published only last month in Ladyboy Magazine. Tell me Pugh, have I not hit the mark?
Pugh: Actually that’s just my iPhone. Please Mr. Holmes. Let me explain our predicament!
SH: As you wish. Watson, tighten this rubber tubing around my arm would you, I’ll have to administer some more drugs if I’m to get through this.
Lestrade: Time is of the essence Mr. Holmes! All Black No.10s are falling like flies, as we speak.
SH: Chill dude… uh what’s that about black No.2s? Watson that’s more your line isn’t it?
DW: Sorry gentlemen, my thumb slipped and I administered too much of this. Here, let me inject some tincture of coffee bean and napalm to rouse him.
SH: Wow. That was some trip. Fuck me with a Stradivarius, I just dreamt I had sex with Professor Moriarty!
DW: How are you feeling now?
SH: Well if you must know, a tad horny. Where’s that copy of Ladyboy..
Pugh: Really! May I continue? Good. At first we thought that the first-five eighth groin tears were accidents, however close examination by one of the ground-staff revealed a concealed tunnel.
DW: In my capacity as medical expert, I would just interject to say that a ‘tunnel’ is quite normal in the groin area though we have a more scientific term for it of course.
DW: That’s right.
Pugh: No! The tunnel was in the Eden Park pitch. With a trap-door leading down to a network of subterranean caverns and a large cave with all kinds of sparking electrical machinery and other bubbling mad-scientist gear in it. Oh and a discarded carboard box labelled Acme Groin Destroyers Inc, but that’s probably irrelevant.
SH: Hmmm. Watson I think this sounds like it will be a three-pipe problem. Get me a good shag will you?
Watson: Realy Holmes I hardly think this is the time… oh right, I’ll fetch the tobacco tin.
SH: Tell me Pugh, what else did you see, nearer to the trap-door for instance? Let me hazard that there was a long hollow bamboo tube, and a box of poison-tipped darts with two missing, labeled ‘Viagra For Elephants’?
Pugh: Astonishing! How did you know that? Yes, we saw it there, but obviously ignored it because we weren’t interested in elephants.
SH: Tish, my dear fellow. What do you imagine happens when a fit young rugby player is injected with enough Viagra to arouse an elephant’s naughty parts?
Pugh: He goes out to Dwarf Night at a bar in Queenstown and gets caught on camera with a blonde?
SH: Getting warm.. Watson?
DW: Aha it all makes sense Holmes. He would either have to immediately find himself a hole strong enough to contain his erection, for example in a block of depleted Uranium, or he would fall to the ground as his wedding tackle exploded.
SH: Exactly so Watson. Mr. Pugh The man you are seeking is a one-legged dwarf who is a member of the Jibuti tribe with a distinctive ‘Z’-shaped scar running down his left cheek.
Pugh: Amazing Holmes! Who is he?
SH: How the fuck would I know? How many one-legged, scarred, blow-darting dwarves with a mad-scientist complex and an interest in rugby can there be?
Lestrade: I’ll put out an APB.
Lestrade: I heard it on the telly. It means I’m going to send a constable out to look for this blighter.
Pugh: But what about the All Blacks chances? What can we do to win the World Cup?
SH: Easily solved Pugh. Just pick Aaron Cruden. He’s the Dog’s Bollocks and therefore naturally immune.
Pugh: Marvellous, you’ve cracked it again Holmes!
SH: I believe the appropriate rejoinder at this juncture is ‘No shit Sherlock’.
DW: Please see yourselves out gentlemen.
SH: Now Watson I feel the urge for some gun play. Lay out my duelling pistols and take the towel off that wax bust of Quade Cooper for me would you?