Australia fluke a win

Much like in England, once South Africa won the series, they magnanimously gave the opposition a test match. So, clearly there are some nice South Africans out there.

In any case, no one cares about the trouncing of minnows.

What we really want to know is all the juicy details of the England dressing room: what Moores really thinks of Captain Fantastic; who betrayed who; who’s bitching about who; and who’s shagging who.

Well, I suppose the new Doctor is a bit young and keen.

(See, despite my life spent cowering under the blankets in a cold, dark and unbelievably cold country, I can still make topical jokes. Even though I can’t feel my toes at nights, I am still wiv it, yeah.)

Now. Not only do human beings universally loath Kevin Bloody Pietersen, but it seems like the England team are in on the act. The Old Batsman made a very interesting point yesterday, by suggesting that the whole affair was an elaborately conducted plot to weasel the politically brilliant Steven Harmison into the captaincy.

If true, this darkly executed scheme, not only lacking in any moral reference or empathy, but it would instantly result in Steveo’s elevation to GOD and win a life time’s devotion from me.

However, outside the nihilistic pleadings of my cold-shrivelled soul, Andrew Strauss’ name is once again being mentioned. Within the power struggle of the England dressing room, and I’m not talking about who puts Monty in Andrew Flintoff’s coffin…

...hang on a minute...

NEWS JUST IN

Just read that KP has been sacked. According to the den of lies, the BBC, Pietersen, in his infinite wisdom, Pieterprat issued the ECB with an ultimatum: either I go or Moors does.

Seeing as the season of expanding debt, the ECB decided to go for a two-for-one deal, and sacked the both of them.

The rest of the world was heard to make the following remarks:

“AH HA HA HA HA HA”

What makes this resignation interesting, as well as hilarious, is Pietersen’s reason. He’s not going because he’s useless and has a terrible track record. Oh no. He’s going because he couldn’t get along with some apparently alright bloke.

Napoleon had the same problem. But don’t worry, he came back on fine form.

Anyway,

AH HAH AH AH AH AHAHAHAHAHA

Harmison intervenes with tact and diplomacy

Steven Harmison, long-time complainant of the media, commentators and those who open their mouth before engaging their Id, has shamed them all by his dignified entrance into England’s management fiasco.

In case you have some sort of life with priorities beyond the petty feuds of ECB politics, Kevin Pietersen and Peter Moores don’t get on. It might be something to do with Moores’ denial of KP’s opportunity to lord it over Michael Vaughan like some magnanimous twat. Or it might be something as simple as Captain Fantastic being a disagreeable twat, who can’t get on with anyone. Like a twat.

In any case, the misfiring of their team, despite the sagely advice of Otis the Aardvark, has brought a wave of introspection, self-doubt and, inevitably, wonderfully, beautifully, BLAME.

As all losers know, you can’t spell “You’ve been Ka-Blam-eod!” without blame.

So, the symbol of stability, reliability and mental strength within the England fold, “Steady Steve” Harmison entered the fray. Although, not being Scouse, it reduces writers’ prospects of suggesting he might do this by saying “cam daun, cam daun” and jerk his arms about like a maddy. Although he is sufficiently Northern for this thought to creep into a blogger’s mind, but it impotently sits there, never finding voice for fear of producing an embarrassing and slightly wrong passage.

So anyway, after being interviewed by the BBC World Service, broadcasting his views to every living person with a radio, power source and English-Geordie phrase book, Mahatma Steve has forged peace within the troubled England team.

Peter Moores was heard to say,

“I thought that KP was a right twat, then I heard Harmison’s grating, whiney voice on the radio this morning, and I decided that KP wasn’t so bad after all. There are worse people out there.”

Walter Bagehot, in a second press conference, asked the lanky slip-tester what he had said to calm the warring factions. Harmison replied,

“Oh, not much really. We sportsman have a way with words. I just said, “Hey, guys, just mellow, yeah. Players come and go; both of you are temporary, ephemeral wisps of a whimper. Only Harmy remains constant. Cam daun, cam daun.””

Moores steps bravely into action by lowering expectations

Peter Moores, chief England goon, has stated that England’s preparation to the will-they-won’t-they test series against India has been “less than ideal”.

This is the sort of British understatement that I’m missing in the Land of Chocolate. But, it’s also the sort of ridiculous, parochial drivel that happily assails me no more.

Contrary to England, the Indian team have had a marvellous build-up to the series. Oh wait, we can’t think about people other than ourselves. They don’t have feelings. They’re just cricket-playing machines. Sometimes they go to the toilet. Although, no them has actually publically announced this as fact.

Well, not everyone is an Australian, you know.

Although, you have to commend his “Us/The Foreign” mentality. Tidily bisecting the world into nice, if ineffective Englishman, and dangerous, unpredictable if good at making curries, Foreigners. Or, as they say here, Auslanderen.

(See? I’m learning. I am beginning to understand how people abuse me in bars.)

England are going to lose these series. They’ll play it. Because they’re muppets. (Peer pressure is helping, here, too.) But they’ll lose it, for sure. It’s not because they haven’t prepared well, but because they’re an incompetent horde of melons.

Which has been England’s problem for some years now.

Even their management is struggling to find their line. The team’s security will be fine. Of course, the England team are going to be guarded like a chocolate biscuit in a secretary pool. They still shouldn’t go, mind.

But, they’ve decided to let the individuals, with no expertise or perspective on the matter, to access their own security on the matter. This is a sensible move. We all know how good laypeople are at evaluating their own personal safety.

Why is everything so deeply, deeply awful?

England don’t know what they’re doing

Peter Moores has admitted that the $100 million England team need practice.

Their value, which can only be recorded in dollars, came from Donald Trump and his continued attempts to buy cricket.

Moores, the England coach and chief blokie, stated that England’s players were a little rusty when it came to twenty20.

“Frankly, they’re only good at boring cricket. But that doesn’t earn any money, so we’ll have to start taking limited overs seriously.”

The West Indies will fancy their chances of making huge amounts of money in this competition (especially when you facture in PPP – high five to the economists out there!) And, to be quite honest, I think the Windies players need the money more than the likes of KP.

There was a programme on the radio just now. The presenters were discussing the role of the Church of England – possibly the meekest, most mild-mannered religion going. It is polite and is embarrassed and focuses heavily on things like flower arranging and cucumber sandwiches. In short, the perfect religion. An English religion.

Cricket is a lot like that. People shamble about on a village green for a while, and then nip of to the pub. No one really knows why, and are too self-conscious to discuss it, it’s just part of life and people get on with it.

So, I don’t have a fucking massive problem with cricket being a shameless money-seeking enterprise that sucks all that is good out country in what remains of this plastic, atomised world.

Oh, due to some miracle that, once again, makes me question my theological position, I didn’t lose my job today. I survived! Ryan Hairybottom did his bit for me today, he really did. Here’s for six more weeks of gay and paid working life!

Right! I’m off to the pub now, to celebrate employment! Cheerio!

Harmison: how quickly we forget

Now that Steve Harmison is away from test cricket, safe in South Africa to be molly-coddled and loved, he seems to be doing alright. He is playing for the Cape Cobras which is some sort of reptilian cricket team, or something.

Hillariously, he said he suffered from rustiness when he opened up with a series of wides and no-balls. Upon witnessing this, most Harmison watchers were pleased to see him back to normal.

Let’s be honest. Steve Harmison is a bit rubbish. Ok – he’s tall. Ok – he’s quick. But, if we were to be frank with ourselves and our mums, he is rubbish. But this glaringly obvious fact aside, Peter Moores, the England coach, has backed him, brushing blatant failure under the carpet:

"He had a tough last season. He struggled for form early on, then started to find some form, then got injured and missed the rest of the season, which was obviously disappointing for him.”

By "tough" Moores means "useless"; "got injured" means "increased in uselessness".

Ages ago, I accused him of being a Harmsprakash – some sort of hyper-talented beast that falls to pieces at international level. I stick by that. Especially when we have committed and performing bowlers like Ryan Hairybottom and Champion of the Nation, the People’s Captain, MATTHEW HOGGARD, it becomes harder to justify the self-obssessed Geordie’s spot in the side.

Let Harmison play for his snake team and let him slither out of international responsibility with Warne-like dignity.

In other news, the ECB has stopped responding to my emails regarding Matthew Hoggard. Their last one mentioned something about “harassment” and “lawyers”, but I think they must have been typos. They probably meant “Hoggy” and “is ace”.