Graeme Smith eats babies

Proof positive.

Name Those Man Boobs: Answer

I was blown away to Lisa's stonking moob performance yesterday. Correctly identifying the man boobs of all three cricketers.

The answers were...

All natural man boobs.

Hey hey, we're the moobies.

Pasty man boobs, with light covering of ginger fluff.

Lisa's prize, moob connoisseur that she is, is well deserved:

Sadly, no one got the Bonus Boob, who was, of course, Graeme Smith.

BOR-RING!

Well, the inevitable happened. The lifeless pancake produced a predictably dull result. I blame the children.

After Virender Sehwagosaurus hit a surprisingly disappointing triple hundred, India collapsed to a mere six hundred and something. Then some Saffers scored some runs. But no one really cared at this point.

Not even Navjot Singh Sidhu.

This match was rather like a school Battle of the Bands. Only worse.

Now, take a batsman. There is probably a rough correlation between his success and his personal repulsiveness (statisticians, I’m looking for a little help here).

Like a lead singer, he probably has “charisma” and “a personality”, but take him away from the lime light and he just becomes your bog standard twat. Although, conversely, this actually increases his propensity for attracting the opposite sex.

But, for the purposes of this analogy I am willing to ignore women. They tend up to mess up most theories, I find.

Wicket keepers are your drummers: they are far too noisy and everyone wishes they’d just shut up. Look, if you really want to keep time, have a bloody triangle. But, they won’t listen – permanent damage to their ears (and brains).

Makhaya Ntini is the fat kid at the front of the audience. Occassionally, he would dance in time, but more often than not, he'd flail around just wide of the mark.

Medium pacers are your bass players. Sure, they’re good at putting the note in the right place, but no one really wants to talk to them.

Virender Sehwag is your lead guitarist who played that “amazing” solo that had all the kids talking for weeks. But the next day saw a series of bum notes, and so he smashed up his instrument and most of the bass player.

Spinners are your token trumpet players. Both trumpet players and spinners are cool. And sexy. But, strangely, this does not result in much interest from women. See what I mean? They bugger up the system.

Graeme Smith is the dad that volunteered to compere to tell them their time is up. They all hate Graeme Smith.

So, you see, if you think about this enough, you’ll see how this match was just like the battle of the bands.