Right. Well, I’m not sure whether I have the mental strength to degrade myself back to pen and ink-cartridges after yesterday’s multi-media extravaganza. But, frankly, videos are too much bloody effort to do every day. So you’ll have to endure my dodgy spelling for now.So, anyway. Who’s watching the disappointing third match of that India/Australia series? Although one of my favourites, Rahul Dravid, neared a century, this day’s play was remarkable for its total lack of agro.
No racist taunts were thrown. No argy-bargy. Not even a single melee between psyched-up, overpaid cricketers. Dreadful. W.G. would be turning in his grave.
However, one good thing did come from this match. Shaun Tait (that nasty-looking bloke with the scarred rottweiler that always hangs around your local off-licence, but hasn’t uttered a single world for all the years you have been scared of him) is still rubbish. He went for four and a half an over. Against Dravid. Ha!
Mitchell Johnson, however, looked disappointingly solid.
There was a bit of “ooh! Will it kick off again?” when there was a suspect umpire’s decision. But India’s batsmen were determined to help the umps out with a bit of creative hari kiri.
Anyway, here’s hoping for some manly cricket tomorrow. I want to see blood.
(By the way, I popped down for a walk on the beach today. The duck had gone. I assume this means that he wasn’t dead in the first place. He was just resting. The water’s edge is a bit like a fowl’s Jacuzzi. He was just resting. That’s why he didn’t notice the dog sniffing at it. It’s all ok, really. Right?)
