9am: Wake screaming from a nightmare about the All Blacks' 1999 semifinal.
9.10am: Don black shirt with silver fern, black pants, black hat, black socks and black shoes.
10am: Order a breakfast fry-up at any local eatery that does not employ a woman named Suzy.
11am: Open keg.
Midday: Relive
your own brilliant rugby career as a utility back for the all-conquering Te Awamutu under-12 side.
3pm: Lament the freak Dungeons and Dragons injury that ended your rugby career.
5pm: Rush off to the appallingly timed wedding of your aunt's butcher's cousin.
8pm: Endure the bridesmaids' mindless gushings about Carlos Spencer's Toffee Pops ads.
9.20pm: Ponder why not one of Auckland's 327,000 taxis is available when you're in a rush to get home.
9.45pm: Assemble the little lounge-grandstand in breathless anticipation.
9.55pm: Utter a fervent prayer involving the kicking boots of Leon and Carlos.
9.58pm: Open the second keg.
10pm: Fall asleep just before kickoff.
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