First it was Lachie Galvin and now it could be Jahream Bula. Who next will magically fall in to Canterbury’s lap? The other half of Penrith? Most fans nowadays have accepted powerful clubs dirty bulking their rosters, unless of course it’s the Bulldogs and Gus is courting their targets via prime time TV. Yep, the Dogs supremo’s latest abuse of power and platforms has been in building Canterbury a genuine premiership roster by juicing it up with other club’s players. Not only have fans officially had a gut-full of Gould playing the system like this, they’re sick of the NRL sitting on its hands. For context, Donald Trump could use his State of the Union address to sell Mar-a-Lago memberships and he still wouldn’t be as conflicted as Gould. In addition to his all-powerful dominion as Canterbury’s general manager, the former coach has a TV show, a podcast and a commentary role, all which he uses to bash the NRL and joyride the rugby league public with his special narrative joystick. Forever flip-flopping between his two lives as administrator and media personality, Gould controls his storylines with a delicate blend of bluster and convenient amnesia. Never miss the latest sports news from Australia and around the world — download the news.com.au app direct to your phone. Not only does he regularly lean on this to punch holes in the NRL - most recently scolding its decision to penalise the Penrith trainer as a “beat up” that was “influenced by social media” - but he uses it as a leg-up in the player market too. This played out writ large in his recent move of tapping-up Lachie Galvin then expressing surprise when he fronted up at Belmore with his boots. Everyone knows the Galvin story and how the former coach acted with implausible naivety throughout the five-eighth’s hectic divorce from the Tigers. The GM spent weeks making steamy overtures towards the unhappy Tiger through the media, oozing how “he’s the best teenage footballer I’ve ever seen” who could “earn more money out of rugby league than any player in history”. But Gould also stridently denied any interest in the playmaker, only for the 20 year old to arrive at Belmore like a honing pigeon. The former Blues coach claimed he’d never wooed Galvin and that once again, his only crime was being born with the most powerful pheromones known to mankind. Can you imagine any other general manager reading love letters to a contracted player while providing a running commentary on his club’s woes before signing the kid after he agitated for a release? It’s no wonder Tigers fans are chastened by the images of Jahreem Bula cozying up with Dogs players at last month’s Dragons game. Seeing their star fullback shifting camps to the Isaac Moses stable then immediately surface in Gould’s postcode has filled our cynical nostrils again with the a rank stench of another classic Gus manoeuvre. And while the Dogs GM has yet to provide comment on the image, who’d be surprised if he wasn’t already fitting up Bula for a Bulldogs polo and the same monk haircut as Galvin’s. Let’s be real: Gould is not only building an empire at Canterbury via unfair questionable means, he’s doing so while playing us all like a harpist. He’s across everything at Canterbury, and despite his assertions otherwise, everything happens there due to foreseen circumstances well within his control. That’s why when he fronts on TV with his media hat on and plays coy - like his awkward stonewalling of Michael Chammas on Monday night’s 100% Footy - it short changes fans who turn to him as one of the premier voices in rugby league. So how do you roll back the privileges of a bloke with his fingers in so many pies? Gould has become so powerful in rugby league that the only feasible way to control the guy is martial law. But while the NRL may encounter challenges convincing the ADF to blockade Wests Tigers headquarters and all surrounding cafes and restaurants, there are simpler muzzles that can be applied. Why can’t Gould be censored from any discussion involving his club, even if it’s vaguely linked to a free agent who he’s likely already talking to? Or if we can’t convince him to simply tell the truth, how about grilling him on a weekly polygraph? Not only would it definitively clarify whether Gus’s tales are kosher, fishy or just plain porkies, it could give Michael Chammas a well-earned spell. - Dane Eldridge is a warped cynic yearning for the glory days of rugby league, a time when the sponges were magic and the Mondays were mad. He’s never strapped on a boot in his life, and as such, should be taken with a grain of salt.