’m too depressed to blog. The Windies, despite my fervent backing, finally bow out of the World Cup. Apparently, it’s still mathematically possible for Lara’s boys to get through, if New Zealand recalls their 1975 team, for instance. But we all know that even a bunch of naked old commentators would still fancy their chances against the West Indies.
There has been a lot of negativity in the Caribbean about their team’s lack of performance. I am normally dead keen on moaning and being bitter. But it seems to be wearing down the mental strength of an already feebly-minded bunch.
It would have been truly wonderful if they won, though. I think the UN would have declared world peace, or something, if Lara had held aloft the World Cup. Actually, I think the UN always bang on about world peace, but, rather like Geoff Boycott, think they’re too tedious to listens to these days. Or, for that matter, ever.
Ah well. We all knew this would happen. But I let my jubilant elbows get the better of me. Why didn’t anyone restrain my naïve joints, eh?
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