The Welsh women's world rugby team were lined up ready, they kicked off, scrummed and mauled, rummaged around in their handbags and the winger was running to cross the line for a try when suddenly her waters broke and she went into labour. Almost immediately a young women's rugby star tot was born. The babe was passed from arm to arm as somebody had lost the rugby ball and the rest of the game went off without a hitch. I am a fan of women's rugby, but I draw the line at kicking babies into touch, that is a cruel sport and could end in ruin, or certainly a lawsuit.
It was a veritable blood bath, the women's rugby match against England, in sympathy at least three other pregnant players began giving birth to even more mini women baby rugby players, and they multiplied. Soon the whole crowd in an outpouring of estrogen married to progesterone were giving birth to babies, everywhere women and babies seethed enmasse, the commentator really did not know how to describe the scene of indescribable carnage but also unbridled joy and emotion in a place no man was allowed anymore. A seen of almost holy miracle. The immaculate conception and immediate birth of children from all the fifteen aside rugby team.
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