Happy Hour. Multi-code superstar Israel Folau is hunkered in the Team Izzy war room with his agent, PR guru, and wife Maria plotting how to save his $A4 million contract ahead of his code of conduct hearing with Rugby Australia this coming Saturday.

PR man: “Izzy, you’ve got a lot of gay friends.”

Izzy: “Christ, I hope not for their sakes.”

Maria: “Israel!”

Izzy: “Sorry M. It’s the pressure. I wouldn’t normally blaspheme.”

PR man: “No, Izzy. I mean that’s the central part of our defensive strategy. You’ve got a lot of gay friends. You can’t do hate speech at your mates.”

Izzy: “Um. Are you sure? I guess some of the Wallabies forwards are a bit limp, but that doesn’t make them gay.”

PR man: “Izzy, you play a sport where grown men ritually crowd together and put their hands between each other’s legs. Of course some of them are gay. Statistically speaking it is a virtual certainty. Look, how many gays did you and Maria invite to your wedding?”

Maria: “It was a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ wedding. The church prefers it that way. Something about there being no atheists in fox holes. No, hang on, that was another thing. It definitely involved holes. And maybe the army.”

Izzy: “I just don’t understand what all the fuss is about. I don’t hate anyone. I’m not in the least bit homophobic. I’m actually a huge admirer of the human form, be it woman or man. It’s a beautiful expression of our Lord’s work, and I’m not afraid to say there are some pretty impressive examples in the Tah’s changing room.”

Manager: “Fag?”

PR man: “Now that would really help.”

Manager: “No, I mean would anyone like to join me for a cigarette? This shit is stressing me out. It’s not just about Izzy. There are a lot of victims here. My end of that contract is 13.5 percent.”

Maria: “Anyone for another Shirley Temple? Happy hour ends at 6pm.”

Izzy: “Let’s just try to wrap this up. I hate being out late.”

PR man: “In a perfect world we’d get one of them to come out on the day.”

Izzy: “Jesus, that a big call.”

Maria: “Israel!!”

PR man: “I don’t mean ‘come out’ come out, I mean come out to the hearing.”

Izzy: “Thank god.”

Maria: “Israel!!!”

PR man: “We’ll also need some liars and fornicators, and ideally some high-powered international rugby chum support. I’ve already reached out to your All Black mate to see if he’ll represent the fornicators and Kiwis. He said he’d check with Shag to see if it was okay – but at the very least, he’d be happy to supply a sworn After David.”

Izzy: “What’s an After David?”

PR man: “To honest I have no idea. But he said he’d used one before to get out of a tight spot and it worked a treat – and we need all the help we can get.”

Izzy: “What about a liar?

PR man: “Don’t suppose you’ve got anyone in mind?”

Izzy: “Well, Cheiks keeps telling us we can win the World Cup. No-one is buying that crap.”

Maria: “Israel Folau – any more of this disgusting talk and I’ll be telling your mother!”

Izzy: “I think she’s already seen it in the papers. And she follows me on Insta”

Maria: “You know what I mean.”

Manager: “Actually, Cheika has already said that he won’t pick Israel because no-one is bigger than the team.”

PR man: “You’re right then, he’s perfect. Speaking of newspapers, Israel, I’ve arranged for a photographer from the Daily Tele to grab a quick snap as we leave the bar. Make sure you give the doorman a big friendly hug and stare deep into his eyes.”

Izzy: “Why?”

PR man: “Because a picture says a thousand words. And at the hearing you’re only going to be saying seven. Now, tell me again what they are.”

Izzy: “Um. I’ve got a lot of gay friends?”

PR man: “Attaboy. Trust me. This is all going to work out fine. Now let’s getaway home before the streets start filling up with sinners.”

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