The camera on the drone is high above the mud flats. It swoops across the swamp of mud, the seashore just beyond, blue skies broken up with wispy white clouds. Seagulls swoop and dive, crying and calling. The drone's wide angle lens takes in the venue for the game, which we would slot in as game two.

A natural mud pool, fifty foot long and twenty five feet wide forms at low tide, some ten miles east of Bournemouth, on the south coast of England. Dunes offer a natural bank and shelter foliage doing its best to gain foothold in the inhospitable terrain.

The voiceover booms over my speakers "Mud Hunt!" The soundtrack pauses as the camera angle changes, a slow pan of the mud, from ground level, deep brown and thick. "Hidden somewhere in the mud are three rugby balls, the first competitor to find two, and return them to their starting point wins ten points for their team"

Over the top of the dune, appear two figures, initially in soft focus, the playback in slow motion, then sharpening and speeding up as the figures fully emerge walking towards camera. Kevin and Jez stride on purposefully, a walk full of attitude as they reach the peak of the dune and stand hands on hips, in full rugby kit. The camera laps up their huge frames. Scarred from a myriad of on field collisions, the lens picks out the scars on legs and arms, small white lines that are testament to their on pitch bravery. They would take that fight into the pit to combat for their team. The camera closes in on their faces, both focused, both mean, Jez with his once broken nose, now off set, heavy weight boxer like, his head shaved bald. Kevin by contrast, less battle worn, full beard surrounding a determined mouth, lips pursed, ready for the fight. Full wild hair, short but unkempt, is blown by the breeze.
Less lean that their team mates, where speed and agility are the key, both of these men are built for strength. Two power houses of extreme power, the steamrollers within the scrum. The camera pans their bodies, exploring the intimidation that their massive frames inflict on opponents.

Dramatic music swells the tension as the men move to opposing sides of the mud pool. They eye each other, outstaring each other, the only emotion being one of quiet determination.

In reality, a production assistant shouted 'Go!', but the video has dramatic screen fills, the numbers bouncing out at the viewer, 3....2.....1.....0
Both players launch themselves into the mud, boots, socks and calves sinking into the warm oozing mud. They both run as best as the sapping mud will allow into the centre of the mud pool. The mud pulls at their clothes, coating, lying heavy, shorts and jerseys sagging under the weight. Kevin is first to dive fully into the mud in search of the first ball. He disappears, the mud shifting and rippling as he searches beneath the surface for a ball. Jez follows his opponents strategy, and abandons walking around searching with his hands and legs for a ball, and dives under the surface. For a moment no player is visible, the mud disturbed by the movements beneath the surface. Jez is first to re-emerge, his entire body coated with mud, it runs from his bald head over his eyes, obscuring his vision. He takes a deep breath, and dives in again. The mud rises and splashes, sending droplets of mud across the bank, speckling the foliage, covering the leaves.

The video is played back in the studio, the audience watching on screens. Despite this being a recording of an event, they call encouragement, the contestants unaware of the outcome willing their player on, hoping they emerge with a precious ball that could provide them with a win and the points.

Kevin jumps up from the mud, a rugby ball in his hand, a yell of triumph, a punch of the air. He launches himself back to the bank, aiming to place his ball down, half of the task complete. His body is covered in mud, obscuring his identity, an anonymous hulking shape powering through the mud towards the bank. The commentary from Dave confirms it is Kevin, and team Sam is one step closer to extending his lead. He slams the ball on the bank and turns back throwing himself into the mud in search of a second ball.
Jez rises triumphant, ball in hand, but is less victorious, aware that Kevin is already in search of the final, match winning ball. He half wades, half staggers to his side of the bank and throws the ball to safety. Quickly, he turns back, desperate to find the final ball before Kevin. Both men dive again, hands and arms searching wildly for the elusive object. Kevin's hand brushes it, but loses it in the swirling mud. He flails around trying to relocate it. Reading his body language and the location of potential treasure Jez staggers over, tripping and falling face first into the mud. A huge splash bounces up from the pool. Mud spatters down on the Kevin, adding more mess to his already unrecognisable hair.
The flailing arms of his Kevin catches the winning ball under the surface and it flies free from the mud, spinning as it soars through the air. Both men see it and dive towards it, the soft muddy water cushioning their dives. Jez is first to grasp it but is pushed into the mud face first by Kevin desperate to wrest it from his grasp.
Momentarily the ball is lost as both men grapple each other, then realise that neither has it then dive back into the mud in search. Kevin emerges, his beard dripping heavy with mud, his hair plastered to his head, ball in hand. He turns and heads for his bank. With the game in danger of being lost Jez flies at his opponent, shoulder charging him into the mud. The balls skids away, spinning across the surface. Both men dive at the ball pushing it under. Kevin rises with it, and pushes Jez away with his forearm. Jez wrestles free from the tackle and fights back, his arm around his opponents shoulder. He uses his weight and slams his opponent into the mud. It splashes back up, into his face. Jez doesn't feel the splash of the mud over him, he is already to too messed up to care, and only has the drive to get the ball and complete the win.
The ball runs free and Jez scoops it up and getting to his feet, staggers towards the bank. Kevin is on his heels, hands grasping at his opponents sodden shirt. He cannot make purchase and fingers slide down his jersey. He feels the waistband of Jez's shorts in his hand and pulls his opponent back. Jez's short rip and his ass is exposed as he powers forward, aware but uncaring that his ass is exposed to the cameras. Not that he is losing much privacy as the thick oozing brown mud cakes his skin, preserving his dignity.

Dave screams commentary back in the studio, the audience rising as one in excitement as Jez's clothing rips.

Kevin slips and falls, yet will not relinquish the hold on the shorts of his adversary. Sensing the fall of his opponent Jez scurries forward, his shorts being pulled down to knees. He spins in the mud onto his ass, and wriggles out of his shorts as his opponent attempts to regain his footing. Close to the bank, Jez makes one final lunge, his rugby training proving the subconscious ability to reach out for the try line, ball in hand. He slams it down on the bank.

Back in the studio the crowd erupt.

In my house, I join them, a cry of congratulation as Jez stands, roaring, punching the air. For the first time we see Jez's flaccid cock, mud covered, his pubes matted with mud as his jersey rides up as he raises both hands in triumph. Kevin in defeat, falls onto his back in the mud. Jez turns, roaring triumphant before seeing his team mate prone, and returns from this bank and helps Kevin up. They embrace, muddy bodies pushed together. Despite the fight, the battle, the camera picks up and broadcasts the affection they obviously have towards each other.

Even though neither are my type, I have an erection, turned on by the mud, the mess but mainly by watching two men compete so wholeheartedly for their team. For the first time in my life, I understand it. These guys would do anything for each other. They are saving their rugby club, and for that anything goes, its not animalistic thuggery, this is tribal. This is love for their kin. Not the kind of love us gays have, it's on a different level. It's turning me on.

The two brawlers stand on the bank. They have their arms around each other's shoulders. I had ordered full long shot on interviews. Chas agreed in hindsight it was a good idea. The studio audience watch as the big screen plays the interview in playback. The questions were asked by my production crew, but Dave has re-recorded the questions to give the illusion we want.

"What a match guys, Jez, how does it feel to win that one?", my production assistant / Dave asks.

"Amazing, that was tough" Jez says, his arm around Kevin's neck. He shirt has risen up, and we have asked him to do the interview as the match ended, minus shorts. His cock hangs down, still covered in mud, his pubic hair sodden, caked with mud that is starting to dry. Seemingly unaware he is fully exposed, he continues, "its great to win some points for the team, but this guy," he slaps the belly of Kevin," what a warrior"

"Kevin, that was a brutal game, talk me through it"

"I thought I had it, I was in the lead, all I needed to do was get the ball back to the bank. But this guy," he pokes Jez in the belly, playfully. Jez jumps, not expecting it, his cock swings back and forth with the movement. If he's aware of this, he does nothing to hide it. The camera stays locked off on long view. Unflinching. "He never gives up, that's Jezza for you, doesn't know when he's beat"

The audience cheer and visuals return to the studio. The scoreboard is updated, we are tied at ten all.

"Let's see who wins out on game three" Dave exclaims, holding up three fingers to camera.