Gwyneth Lewis, Wales' national poet has launched a scathing attack on Welsh Rugby Union 'backroom' politics in this poem. Change a few words and it’d aptly apply to SARFU.
A Wooden Spoon for the WRU
(a druid speaks)
I have consulted the mistletoe,
stared at starling footprints in snow:
the time is ripe for your overthrow.
I give you a spoon I shaped of ash
because you didn't nurture the flash
of play but thought, maybe, of cash.
Here's a dip I turned from oak
but look, in your hands, it slips into smoke.
You've made our last Grand Slam a joke.
Actual rugby can never redeem
your backroom moves of dodge and scheme.
It's you who need to raise your game.
How can a committee always outlive
coaches, players? It's hard to forgive
shadowy men with hands like sieves.
Here's the last spoon, I carved it from gall:
it's you, not the team, who have dropped the ball.
Hang this up, with shame, in your hall.

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