From the moment I became aware that rugby existed I was aware it was a violent sport. I remember seeing a guy on campus who was wearing a shirt that read “Give Blood. Play Rugby”.
Back in college I hung out with a group of people that included several rugby players. Individually they were lovely people, but when you got a lot of them together it was chaos. It was from rugby players that I learned of the Flaming Zulu. The Flaming Zulu involved a naked guy going up on the roof, taking a long strip of toilet paper, shoving one end into his butt crack, lighting the other end on fire, jumping off of the roof and running around the house. You win if you don’t burn your ass.
I don’t get it either. There was also some sort of hazing thing that involved the rookies stripping down to their underwear and being strapped together with belts and being hit with spoons. I couldn’t possibly be remembering that correctly. That doesn’t even make sense.
Not like the Flaming Zulu. That is perfectly reasonable.
Sometimes you would just see the rugby players headbutting each other for fun. Sometimes you would just see them walking around naked for no reason.
I mean, no reason besides the fact that they were drunk rugby players.
Ninety five percent of the naked men I saw in college were drunk rugby players.
Very little of that has anything to do with the penis biting story.