Rowan Quinn Weakling of the Year

A wishy-washy, walking inferiority complex, completely incapable of doing anything for herself beyond howdy-doody "I'm such a nice person," drivel entwined with ostentatious waffle on fundamentals so tedious and obvious they were not deemed worth commenting on by anybody else. Unveiled as Rowan Quinn, vanished like a mole to the underground from where she carried out anonymous raids in her bitterness, before coming out of the closet when she thought it was safe under the guise of "Sammy." Hides around the corner like the shadowy pimp while her brainless bozos endeavour to ward off the dastardly foe, venturing only to poke out her head now and then with smug bitchiness and self-righteous accusations. Her efforts to portray the role of a Western Australian were as wafer thin as her stage-managed, would-be-highbrow debates with Richard Pembroke on such items as language and politics on the Planet Rugby forum. Displayed absolutely no interest in rugby in that state, nor indeed on that continent, until the eve of the RWC final when she delivered a series of feeble "We'll beat you bloody Poms" lines in carefully worded good-humour, believing it would convince us all, because like her deluded father Keith Quinn she lives in a fantasy world where we, the rabble, are all wide-eyed kindergarten children eager for the benefit of the savant's boundless, superior wisdom.