9am: Woke up, rolled over.

9.30am: Dammed beer cans I left in bed from last night ruining my sleep…

10.46am Got out of bed, checked answer phone to find a message left by Mark Gasnier about attending optional practice for NSW today.

“Wille, Willie where the f**k are you??  There are 4 toey blokes here in the cab all fired up for some action and you’re at home in bed!! F**k me, fire up Willie.”

10:50am: Nothing like a hair of the dog to pick yourself up for the day.

“Gidday Graeme, its Willie Mason here, I was just wondering - ”
“Willie Nelson! My goodness! I thought you were dead! Are you still singing?”

“No, no, Willie MASON - ”

“Mason? I don’t recall that song? My favorite was always ‘On the Road again’”

“Graeme, seriously, I’m ringing to find out why I haven’t made the All Blacks”

“Aren’t you a bit old for that sort of thing Willie?”

“I play first grade league you know”

“BY CRICKEY, that’s amazing, I never knew you had it in you, in fact I didn’t even know they played league in the States – you aren’t on drugs are you Willie?”

“Well yes, but only recreational ones”

“Of course, of course, how silly of me I’m sorry Willie.  I don’t think we’ll be needing you this year, perhaps next year after you’ve sobered up, we’re short of a guitar player at the back of the bus.”

11.15am:  Immediately look for a reporter to tell them that Graeme Henry plans to pick me for the All Blacks next year, bloody media, they’re never around when you want them.  There used to be a whole horde of them around the place when we had that Coffs harbor thing going on with the Bulldogs.  What a load of s*it that was, total pack of lies that I bet the real reason was because that attractive chick from Fox Sports wanted to have a bun with me and Braith and just made the whole thing up so she could hang around us all the time…

11.30am: Check out-doors, in the garden and run around the block just to double check if any reporters are around that I can chat to, resolve that I’ll just have to wait until practice tonight to tell them the good news.

11.45am: Start writing a letter to the NRL complaining strenuously about the NSW bonding session, a farce that never should be allowed to happen again.  I mean $1000 was no-where near enough money to have a good night on the town, I mean after the alcohol, recreational drugs and strippers there’s hardly enough money left over to bribe schoolgirls for their underwear with while staggering home at 8am in the morning!!  We weren’t even allowed to go to King’s Cross!!!  Wankers, they’re all getting soft up there in the NRL I tell you…

1.30pm: Letter finished and it’s almost half a page long!!  One of my best efforts yet.

1.39pm:  Talk of the bonding session reminds me to leave an abusive message on Minichiello’s phone asking him why he didn’t invite me to go out with the other lads after our 3am curfew…

1.45pm: Minichiello replies by saying that they tried to find me but I wasn’t in my room. The moron’s didn’t even bother to check in the broom closet where I’d passed out in and I’d even left a trail of vomit for them to follow.  League players sure are thick these days…

2.00pm: Package arrives from the NSW state of origin team containing my number 1’s.  Heaven’s above it’s a suit!!!  Certainly much smarter than the thongs and t-shirt number 1’s the Bulldogs supplied to me for my court appearance.

2:10pm: Oh f**k, now I recognize that thing, it’s a tie! They could have put a warning label on it before I used it in the shitter. Still, nothing Julian O’Niell hasn’t done on the furniture before….

3pm: Off to compulsory NSW training now, have been asked by a few of the lads to pick them up on the way. Hopefully they haven’t shifted pubs since they last rang. 

4:15pm: Training over, off for a physio session with the hot masseuse who is clearly gagging for it, but not before I sign Brad Fittler’s autograph for a few of the fans.

4:45pm: A newspaper report suggests that Ricky Ponting has thrown an injury scare into the camp. This is just the sort of opportunity that I need to raise my career and profile to new levels, so I decide to ring John Buchanan:

“John, It’s Willie Mason here”

“Perry Mason? Bloody hell, what are you calling for? It’s not to do with Warnie is it?”

“WILLIE - ”

“He’s had his willie out? Oh God, first beating up kids for their cameras, taking fat bastard pills, lewd cellphone messages, and now he’s in trouble for indecent exposure?”

“Why would you get in trouble for that? It’s a compulsory part of team bonding sessions in Coffs Harbour. Anyway, I’m looking to get out of league and into - ”

“Well I’m sure you are, after all, you lawyers have made plenty of money out of the recent goings on in that sport, but you aren’t getting stuck into my cricketers! GOODBYE!” 

4.50pm: Fired my manager for not doing enough for my public image. I can’t understand why all these people don’t recognize me.

5.00pm:  Perhaps if I beat up someone from the media that would get me on TV and more people would recognize me…

5.30pm:  A mandatory session imposed by the NRL on gender issues and how to treat woman, here’s Blocker and Chief to talk to us…

Chief: “Right-ho lads, settle down, as you well know a few things have been reported in the media that are harming the image of the game.”

Willie: “They aren’t airing replays of Braith Anasta bursting into tears live on radio over the Bulldogs salary cap and making us look like a bunch of poofs again are they??”

Chief: “No Willie it’s much more serious than that, as you well know there’s been quite a few negative reports on how we treat women.  You league players have got to realize that things have changed over the years; it’s the 00’s now.  Which means that you can’t get away with what you used to back in my day – there’s bloody media everywhere.”

Blocker: “Yes that’s right Chief, it’s all the media’s fault, they dammed well report the cases of sexual harassment these days instead of brushing it under the carpet which is making it bloody tough on the players.  Not to mention the change in the attitude of woman towards league players, they used to be thrilled if you walked up to her in the pub and grabbed her tit’s or snapped her G-string or left lewd messages for invitations for group sex on her phone…”

Chief: “And that’s the root of the problem lads - you need to be able to pick slappers that won’t complain when you sexually harass them, you just going after the wrong type of bird.”

Blocker: “Take that chick that Gasnier tried to pick up for instance, the fact she had a mobile phone should have alerted him to the fact that she had a semblance of intelligence and her smart dress was a dead give-away that she was a “classy bird”.

Chief: “In fact one could ask what she was doing in a night-club when she should be in the kitchen.”

Blocker: “Ease up there Chief, it’s pretty hard to pick up chicks in the kitchen, I don’t even know where it is in my house!!”

Willie: “What’s a kitchen??”

Geyer: “It’s where me Mum keeps the beers.”

Willie: “Cheers Marky, you bright ones always play halfback eh??” 

6.30pm: Meeting on how to treat woman over, it’s certainly opened my eyes and changed my attitudes towards woman. I think it’s great how the NRL really goes out of its way to get great role models like Chief and Blocker to teach us these important life skills.  I mean they could have spent all day getting pissed and wasting their money sports betting at the pub instead of talking to us young-un’s, great chaps.

7.00pm: Hurrah!!  I’ve finally found some media to talk to!!  I knew that crash-tackling pedestrians outside the ABC headquarters would get their attention.

7.30pm: Ecstatic!! The Bulldogs have just told me that I need to take drugs in order to play league some methylpete something for my ADHD, which is attention def, defici, attent, something anyway.  It’s a tribute to Australian doctors that I’ve had this problem since I was 8 and a short 16 years later they’re taking steps to remedy it. Better tell the lads that there’s going to be a party at my place, I hope the Coffs harbor police are still bugging my phone so I can really stick it to them. 

8pm: Off for a quick gym session, am glad that I can use my ADHD condition as an excuse to wander into the woman’s changing rooms instead of the men’s.  All these woman at the gym wearing tight outfits –obviously gagging for it…Though perhaps I might have to strike off the list that woman that screamed, threw things at me and called security…

8:10pm: Excellent, the photos on the cellphone came out nicely. Now all I need are their phone numbers…

8.15pm: Eventually find my way to the men’s changing rooms…

8.25pm: Can’t find electric socket to insert my fingernails into so I can get that extra frizz in my hair, chicks dig it after all.

8.30pm: Arrgah!!  There’s no room in front of the extra large mirror so I can show my muscles off. Unfortunately there seems to be too many of them for me to punch all at once.

8.35pm: Double Arrgah!!  It’s a NSW gym session only so there are no chicks in the room while we exercise, resolve to spend most of the session sitting in the corner and sulking while calling Braith a poof and telling every-one that they’re soft.

9:10pm: Docked Braith of 4 levels on the rowing machine and shoved a microphone under his nose, causing him burst into tears.

9.45pm: My favorite part of after-session training, a few after match drinks…

10.30pm: End a long argument with Phil Gould as to why they haven’t given us another $1000 so we can have another bonding session – told him that it was ridiculous that we could consider having a bonding session that didn’t include a visit to Madame Zadele’s S&M parlor.  Told him it was a good thing he was retiring as he was obviously getting soft and was a poof…

11.00pm: Funny there seem to be security guards to pull us back to the hotel rooms and I haven’t even gotten through my “set of six” back draft shooters yet, never mind the gagging for it chicks in the corner…

11.10pm: If only they hadn’t have had stun guns we could have stood a chance, Wing put in a good performance with a bar-stool and Fitzgibbon with one of the beer taps but eventually we got overwhelmed and taken back to the hotel.

11.30pm:  Ridiculous!!  How am I supposed to get to sleep this early in the evening?  Console myself by taking some banned drugs for my ADHD condition and convincing myself that the management team are soft and a bunch of poofs…

11:40pm: Gasnier knocks on the window, he seems to have crawled round the ledge of the 5th floor balcony. Plan is to sneak back out and use sheets to lower ourselves to ground level. Quickly paused to shove a knife into the toaster.

11:45pm: Hair perfect and down at ground level. One bad moment as Gasnier nearly lost his phone out of his pocket while passing the fourth floor. Could have been dangerous if he couldn’t warn Madame Zelda of the impending arrival of toey bastards. Wing and Fitzgibbon also managed to join us after slipping down a laundry chute.

11:46pm: Spotted by security, a running street battle commences.

11:47pm: I wonder if I can be called up in front of the judiciary for the spear tackle of the security guard onto the kerb?

11:55pm: Freedom and almost at Madame Zelda’s. A couple of girls on the far side of the street had the nerve to run when we hollered at them. Don’t they know showing skin means they’re desperate for a private team bonding session?

11:56pm: Snaffled just before the goal. Bloody poof Gould turned up with a riot squad and water cannons to “cool the randy bastards down”. This straight jacket is friggin uncomfortable.

12:05am: One hand freed and given a bottle of tequila to send me to sleep…