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?
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
ECB shafts players. Again.
I’m quoting cricinfo, here:
“England's cricketers will not be forced to return to India for the two-Test series, Hugh Morris, the ECB's managing director for England cricket, said as the squad arrived back in London on Saturday evening.”
I am considering putting in a Freedom of Information Request to see which tours players are forced to attend. But, although it seems sensible, the response is a typically spineless, confusing and probably the worst possible announcement for the England players.
I strongly suspect that this position was borne out of Captain Fantastic’s recent comments:
“On a cricket field I might ask people to do things in a certain way but I will never tell people to do anything. A man is a man and he can make his own decisions.”
Which is all very good, but leads to a curious overall position. Presumably, if a player wished to withdraw a normal tour, then the ECB would penalise him in some way. Perhaps drop him from consideration from future tours.
But we must assume that if players’ personal perception of the security situation India is unfavourable, then they do not face this penalty.
But, if a player on the margins takes this opportunity to play for his country, then would the established, backer-outter feel obliged to stay on? Oh, I don’t know. But by shifting the responsibility on to the players, the ECB is buggering up with the careers of its most valuable assets.
It’s a mess. The whole thing is a mess.
In fact, just cancel the tour. I, for one, haven’t enjoyed one moment of it. Well, except for its crushing the will of KP. That’s been fantastic.
But generally, this tour has left me numb.
It’s like the emptiness that you’re left with after you’ve failed, for the second year running, to get into Jenny from Account’s pants at work’s Christmas Party, despite the fact that you managed to get her completely plastic.
Isn’t life great?
“England's cricketers will not be forced to return to India for the two-Test series, Hugh Morris, the ECB's managing director for England cricket, said as the squad arrived back in London on Saturday evening.”
I am considering putting in a Freedom of Information Request to see which tours players are forced to attend. But, although it seems sensible, the response is a typically spineless, confusing and probably the worst possible announcement for the England players.
I strongly suspect that this position was borne out of Captain Fantastic’s recent comments:
“On a cricket field I might ask people to do things in a certain way but I will never tell people to do anything. A man is a man and he can make his own decisions.”
Which is all very good, but leads to a curious overall position. Presumably, if a player wished to withdraw a normal tour, then the ECB would penalise him in some way. Perhaps drop him from consideration from future tours.
But we must assume that if players’ personal perception of the security situation India is unfavourable, then they do not face this penalty.
But, if a player on the margins takes this opportunity to play for his country, then would the established, backer-outter feel obliged to stay on? Oh, I don’t know. But by shifting the responsibility on to the players, the ECB is buggering up with the careers of its most valuable assets.
It’s a mess. The whole thing is a mess.
In fact, just cancel the tour. I, for one, haven’t enjoyed one moment of it. Well, except for its crushing the will of KP. That’s been fantastic.
But generally, this tour has left me numb.
It’s like the emptiness that you’re left with after you’ve failed, for the second year running, to get into Jenny from Account’s pants at work’s Christmas Party, despite the fact that you managed to get her completely plastic.
Isn’t life great?
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
England so bad that, even when they scored more runs than the opposition, they lost
As many animal torturers have noted, cricket is a funny game. It’s hard to explain its rules to muggles.
You might say something like: “They idea is to score more runs that your opponent. Then you get pissed.”
Then, along comes the latest England game. England and India both faced 22 overs. India scored 166, England scored 178. Obviously India won.
It’s the unpredictability of the game that makes it so interesting.
However, to their credit, the one quality that England have displayed for many years has been predictability. I lauded the ECB management for its parsimonious approach to altering the team management.
Keeping with the same useless team for the sake of stability was a courageous move. But, then they turned out to be as brave as Ishant Sharma’s moustache.
Then they bugger about with every aspect of the team make-up and lose repeatedly in humiliating fashion.
It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so wrist-cuttingly depressing.
Normally, as a fan, you believe you know more than most sages. And more especially more than team selectors. If push came to shove, however, most people would defer to the “experts”, and let Patrick Moores get his way. “Sure Pete, me ol’ mucker, you’ve won a few Championships. What have I done? Memorised the entire script of 24? That’s nothing. You, mate, are a god.”
But now we know. We all know.
I now know that I am better than them. THIS IS KNOWLEDGE. In fact, the drunken, jobless German that harassed me on my way home yesterday would exhibit greater team-selecting skills than England. And he only had one eye.
Don’t worry though. It’ll all be fine next time. They’re having a Team Meeting.
And we all know from our respective workplaces how productive and motivating Team Meetings are.
You might say something like: “They idea is to score more runs that your opponent. Then you get pissed.”
Then, along comes the latest England game. England and India both faced 22 overs. India scored 166, England scored 178. Obviously India won.
It’s the unpredictability of the game that makes it so interesting.
However, to their credit, the one quality that England have displayed for many years has been predictability. I lauded the ECB management for its parsimonious approach to altering the team management.
Keeping with the same useless team for the sake of stability was a courageous move. But, then they turned out to be as brave as Ishant Sharma’s moustache.
Then they bugger about with every aspect of the team make-up and lose repeatedly in humiliating fashion.
It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so wrist-cuttingly depressing.
Normally, as a fan, you believe you know more than most sages. And more especially more than team selectors. If push came to shove, however, most people would defer to the “experts”, and let Patrick Moores get his way. “Sure Pete, me ol’ mucker, you’ve won a few Championships. What have I done? Memorised the entire script of 24? That’s nothing. You, mate, are a god.”
But now we know. We all know.
I now know that I am better than them. THIS IS KNOWLEDGE. In fact, the drunken, jobless German that harassed me on my way home yesterday would exhibit greater team-selecting skills than England. And he only had one eye.
Don’t worry though. It’ll all be fine next time. They’re having a Team Meeting.
And we all know from our respective workplaces how productive and motivating Team Meetings are.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
It's happening again
Remember the World Cup? Remember how we all enjoyed this vibrant international spectacle, and didn’t complain at all. From the very first, hesitant moment, to crescendo of well-organised joy at the tournament’s climax. Let me take you back to those times.
It was the heady days of 2007. Anything seemed possible. Religious fanatics controlled a superpower. An ex-superpower was killing spies on the street. And sub-prime mortgages were worth more than a stapler.
Throughout the course of the cricket World Cup, I spent my time talking about England (and dancing cricketers). I repeatedly made one point about their approach: OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU PEOPLE PLAYING AT?
Their approach was this: “See off the first few dangerous twenty overs, and then we’ll consolidate for the next twenty. Perhaps we’ll see where we are after that.”
Against South Africa, we scored four runs in ten overs.
Remember Jamie Dalrymple? Do you remember opening with Ed Joyce? ED JOYCE!
Not even the person that Ed Joyce murdered with an Ed Joyce name badge would remember who Ed Joyce is.*
But, poor old whathisface was subject to the ECB’s wonder strategy of playing for time. Obviously, we got completely humiliated. That goes without saying. We’re English. But there are degrees of loss.
And the inept, spineless, moronic, self-inflicted, thick-headed losses of the World Cup were particularly hard to endure. And now, once again, familiar concerns are returning. You look at the Englanders, and they look at you, blinking and red-skinned, clueless. Utterly clueless. There are, quite literally, without clue. Well, they might have one clue between them, but that’s a rubbish clue that erroneously leads them to Professor Plum.
AKA: Grauieame Swann.
*On further reflection, this victim might struggle to remember quite a few things.
(For those economists, stats geeks, and other bored people, check out the OECD’s new data mapping tool. It’s surprisingly fun. Now I know that New Zealand’s North Island is richer (in per capita terms) than all Australian states, whereas, the South Island is poorer than the lot of them. Interesting that. The IMF one is also worth a check out – although no where near as fun.)
(As another aside, I went to watch the football last night. I don’t normally do this, but England was playing Germany in Berlin, and I felt I should make an effort. So, off I went, with German in tow, to an “Irish” “pub” in central Berlin.
There, I found England.
England in all its glimmering glory. A mirror to the world’s best parts. The parts that sing about wars long since past, about enemies now crippled with anxiety. Parts that try to chat up German women with the worlds Spatch-chen zie Anglaise? Parts that, when you are amused by the loud sweary scousers and huge St. George’s Cross emblazoned with the words like “Darlington” will challenge you with a sharp “Wot yaw smilin’ at?” It’s astonishing how I could live without this cultural assurance, without these people that make us all feel so proud.)
It was the heady days of 2007. Anything seemed possible. Religious fanatics controlled a superpower. An ex-superpower was killing spies on the street. And sub-prime mortgages were worth more than a stapler.
Throughout the course of the cricket World Cup, I spent my time talking about England (and dancing cricketers). I repeatedly made one point about their approach: OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU PEOPLE PLAYING AT?
Their approach was this: “See off the first few dangerous twenty overs, and then we’ll consolidate for the next twenty. Perhaps we’ll see where we are after that.”
Against South Africa, we scored four runs in ten overs.
Remember Jamie Dalrymple? Do you remember opening with Ed Joyce? ED JOYCE!
Not even the person that Ed Joyce murdered with an Ed Joyce name badge would remember who Ed Joyce is.*
But, poor old whathisface was subject to the ECB’s wonder strategy of playing for time. Obviously, we got completely humiliated. That goes without saying. We’re English. But there are degrees of loss.
And the inept, spineless, moronic, self-inflicted, thick-headed losses of the World Cup were particularly hard to endure. And now, once again, familiar concerns are returning. You look at the Englanders, and they look at you, blinking and red-skinned, clueless. Utterly clueless. There are, quite literally, without clue. Well, they might have one clue between them, but that’s a rubbish clue that erroneously leads them to Professor Plum.
AKA: Grauieame Swann.
*On further reflection, this victim might struggle to remember quite a few things.
(For those economists, stats geeks, and other bored people, check out the OECD’s new data mapping tool. It’s surprisingly fun. Now I know that New Zealand’s North Island is richer (in per capita terms) than all Australian states, whereas, the South Island is poorer than the lot of them. Interesting that. The IMF one is also worth a check out – although no where near as fun.)
(As another aside, I went to watch the football last night. I don’t normally do this, but England was playing Germany in Berlin, and I felt I should make an effort. So, off I went, with German in tow, to an “Irish” “pub” in central Berlin.
There, I found England.
England in all its glimmering glory. A mirror to the world’s best parts. The parts that sing about wars long since past, about enemies now crippled with anxiety. Parts that try to chat up German women with the worlds Spatch-chen zie Anglaise? Parts that, when you are amused by the loud sweary scousers and huge St. George’s Cross emblazoned with the words like “Darlington” will challenge you with a sharp “Wot yaw smilin’ at?” It’s astonishing how I could live without this cultural assurance, without these people that make us all feel so proud.)
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
We’re back in business baby
Some of you may have noticed a drop in post frequency recently. To those that did, please consider yourselves a proud owner of a gold star. To those that didn’t, consider yourself official Enemies Of The Glorious AYALAC Peoples.
You see, I now have the internet at home again. This, of course, is excellent because, despite having internet access at work, and despite being paid less than my previous position, I am still manically busy and unable to blog at the office.
So! Now, a new era of AYALAC-rest of the world relations begins. Rejoicing breaks out. Women swoon. Parrots die.
Much has changed since we spoke last.
England lost the rugby. England lost the cricket once. And then once more. An Irish fellah bought an election in the New World. And England will probably lose the football tonight. So, as we can see, the world continues to move as normal.
It’s really great having internet at home. I listened to Today Programme for the first time in ages this morning. I was surprised at the amount of slang British English they used. Shocking, really. But, I was also buoyed by hearing the dulcet tones of Nick Griffin, leader of the British National Party, and also Nick Clegg, leader of some other party. I forget which.
So! Yes. Cricket.
Well, it’s the usual depressing stock for us Englanders. You know that things are bad when you see headlines end in the word “again”. However, to make a series point about actual cricket, I will say this:
For ages, the test side has shown that stability in selection has resulted in improved results. Of course, illness and injury can and have taken their toll, but overall, it seems that England do better when England know who England is. Yet, conversely, the ODI side has been all over the shop.
Pick a player here. Pick a player there. Stick him in as an opener. Pick a team with three batsman. Put him at eight. Kill all the spinners. It has been a progressive, morphing chaos for years now. So, it seems eminently sensible to me that now, the ECB has decided to draw the line and let the “current” team settle for a bit. Enough, say they, is enough.
And you know what? Bugger me, if I don’t agree with the England management. Heck, give them all medals, say I. Nay, OBEs!
To all this talk of “Bell and Prior aren’t working” and “drop Collingwood, pick Smode” and the “let’s drop him to 10 and promote him to 5” and all the rest of it, to this I say this: Stop it. Just leave them alone. It’s the best of all possible worlds. It’s time to start pretending that we’re New Zealand.
We’re not in Kansas any more.
We're in Berlin. Where we're about to launch an attack on allied German-English hooligans. Come on you rioters!
You see, I now have the internet at home again. This, of course, is excellent because, despite having internet access at work, and despite being paid less than my previous position, I am still manically busy and unable to blog at the office.
So! Now, a new era of AYALAC-rest of the world relations begins. Rejoicing breaks out. Women swoon. Parrots die.
Much has changed since we spoke last.
England lost the rugby. England lost the cricket once. And then once more. An Irish fellah bought an election in the New World. And England will probably lose the football tonight. So, as we can see, the world continues to move as normal.
It’s really great having internet at home. I listened to Today Programme for the first time in ages this morning. I was surprised at the amount of slang British English they used. Shocking, really. But, I was also buoyed by hearing the dulcet tones of Nick Griffin, leader of the British National Party, and also Nick Clegg, leader of some other party. I forget which.
So! Yes. Cricket.
Well, it’s the usual depressing stock for us Englanders. You know that things are bad when you see headlines end in the word “again”. However, to make a series point about actual cricket, I will say this:
For ages, the test side has shown that stability in selection has resulted in improved results. Of course, illness and injury can and have taken their toll, but overall, it seems that England do better when England know who England is. Yet, conversely, the ODI side has been all over the shop.
Pick a player here. Pick a player there. Stick him in as an opener. Pick a team with three batsman. Put him at eight. Kill all the spinners. It has been a progressive, morphing chaos for years now. So, it seems eminently sensible to me that now, the ECB has decided to draw the line and let the “current” team settle for a bit. Enough, say they, is enough.
And you know what? Bugger me, if I don’t agree with the England management. Heck, give them all medals, say I. Nay, OBEs!
To all this talk of “Bell and Prior aren’t working” and “drop Collingwood, pick Smode” and the “let’s drop him to 10 and promote him to 5” and all the rest of it, to this I say this: Stop it. Just leave them alone. It’s the best of all possible worlds. It’s time to start pretending that we’re New Zealand.
We’re not in Kansas any more.
We're in Berlin. Where we're about to launch an attack on allied German-English hooligans. Come on you rioters!
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Sweeping generalisations affect cricket teams everywhere
In a surprising development, all the cricket teams in the world have began to generalise about everything.
Tony Sporkington, captain of the Upper Schleswig-Holstein XI, and therefore representative of the entire cricketing community stated,
“I woke up one morning, and had a strong urge to project my nonsensical values onto the entire world. I rolled over, to consult my wicket-keeper, stumpers have a special perspective on these things, and, blow me! He had the same problem!”
Australians, Belgians, Bhutans, Bolivians, Bosnians, Bulgarians, Burkinans, Indians, Romanians and even Americans all felt the same thing. On the same morning. At the same time.
Peter Mandyson, a surprisingly well-informed journalist from Venezuela stated,
“Look. The future is, like, always like the past, right? So, we can expect India to dominant for at least eleven years in international cricket. Despite the fact that all their players are about to retire or riddled with arthritis, they’re going to be the new Australia. Yeah?”
His moderately attractive wife, John, added:
“Yes. Australia will become the new England: annoying and whiney. Whereas England are set to the new Bermuda: rubbish, but trusting all in their largest player.”
The global community concurred.
Tony Sporkington, captain of the Upper Schleswig-Holstein XI, and therefore representative of the entire cricketing community stated,
“I woke up one morning, and had a strong urge to project my nonsensical values onto the entire world. I rolled over, to consult my wicket-keeper, stumpers have a special perspective on these things, and, blow me! He had the same problem!”
Australians, Belgians, Bhutans, Bolivians, Bosnians, Bulgarians, Burkinans, Indians, Romanians and even Americans all felt the same thing. On the same morning. At the same time.
Peter Mandyson, a surprisingly well-informed journalist from Venezuela stated,
“Look. The future is, like, always like the past, right? So, we can expect India to dominant for at least eleven years in international cricket. Despite the fact that all their players are about to retire or riddled with arthritis, they’re going to be the new Australia. Yeah?”
His moderately attractive wife, John, added:
“Yes. Australia will become the new England: annoying and whiney. Whereas England are set to the new Bermuda: rubbish, but trusting all in their largest player.”
The global community concurred.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Australia: HA!
I would say I was sorry for the long silence. But I’m not. I’m glad.
So. First thing’s first: Australia are unbelievably useless. We always knew it, but only today has it become a tangible truth.
Nevertheless, this is a special moment for all peoples everywhere
It is wonderful. Truly fantastical and delightful and perfect.
You know why?
I bet you don’t. You look a bit thick in the brain department, so I’ll tell you.
This is a wonderful moment not just because the Australians lost in such a comprehensive, feeble, weak, humiliating fashion. Oh no. It’s because they whinged all the way down the plug hole.
There is much talk of the Indians being “unsporting” by ensuring that Australia couldn’t win. What these means in English exactly, I’m not entirely sure. I can only assume that Australians are now “playing fair” and, presumably, beginning to play by the spirit of the game.
Although a match fine for a slow over rate undermines this claim slightly, Ricky Bunter claimed that he acted in the best interests of test cricket. How we can translate this from the incomprehensible logic that prevails in the Australian captain’s mind to common reason, is known only to a select group of ACB mind melons.
One can only assume that, in Bunting’s head, he is a knight in shining leather, defending the ancient institutions from evil (and Indian) onslaught. Only Australians truly understand the game. They are good, if simple, people.
All this guff, coupled with the bleating, makes this defeat especially sweet. Obviously, 2005 was good. But the Australians deluded themselves believing their loss resulted from bad luck. But, in this series, their rank incompetence is public and undeniable.
So, how do they respond?
By insinuating that the Indians cheated! AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
This is one of the best moments of my life. We are witnessing the breaking of a test team. AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
So. First thing’s first: Australia are unbelievably useless. We always knew it, but only today has it become a tangible truth.
Nevertheless, this is a special moment for all peoples everywhere
It is wonderful. Truly fantastical and delightful and perfect.
You know why?
I bet you don’t. You look a bit thick in the brain department, so I’ll tell you.
This is a wonderful moment not just because the Australians lost in such a comprehensive, feeble, weak, humiliating fashion. Oh no. It’s because they whinged all the way down the plug hole.
There is much talk of the Indians being “unsporting” by ensuring that Australia couldn’t win. What these means in English exactly, I’m not entirely sure. I can only assume that Australians are now “playing fair” and, presumably, beginning to play by the spirit of the game.
Although a match fine for a slow over rate undermines this claim slightly, Ricky Bunter claimed that he acted in the best interests of test cricket. How we can translate this from the incomprehensible logic that prevails in the Australian captain’s mind to common reason, is known only to a select group of ACB mind melons.
One can only assume that, in Bunting’s head, he is a knight in shining leather, defending the ancient institutions from evil (and Indian) onslaught. Only Australians truly understand the game. They are good, if simple, people.
All this guff, coupled with the bleating, makes this defeat especially sweet. Obviously, 2005 was good. But the Australians deluded themselves believing their loss resulted from bad luck. But, in this series, their rank incompetence is public and undeniable.
So, how do they respond?
By insinuating that the Indians cheated! AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
This is one of the best moments of my life. We are witnessing the breaking of a test team. AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
England beaten by huge margin at the hands of stars
According to AYALAC’s refined methodology of re-weighting a team’s score by using irrelevant criteria, England lost to the star-peppered Trinidad and Tobago yesterday.
And by buggery did they lose big.
D. Charlton asked a cutting question recently (it was, I admit, hard to find sense in a fog of misguided comments). He asked:
“How many runs to England need to score to beat T&T tonight - before a ball is bowled?”
Well, let’s see. T&T’s land area is 1,980 square miles, and, as we saw yesterday, England is 50,351 square miles.
So, by my reckoning, the first ball of the match needed to be a no-ball, from which, England would proceed to run a relative modest 3,335 over-throws.
After achieving this, only then could England consider winning.
But, once again, our boys in whatever colour it is their advertisers have chosen for them these days, have failed us. And failed us bad.
By my recalibrated understanding of “the rules” England lost by 3,499 runs. Once again, not only did the opposition manage to chase down England’s total of 141 after just two balls, but they proceeded to put on a sensational show of hitting just to entertain the crowd and certain deluded parts of my mind.
What a victory by the young men from two islands whose names both begin with the letter “T” – what are the chances of that! After such a strurpling win under their belts, success, wealth and many, many women will surely come their way.
For England (and a small, rubbishy part of South Africa) this day will live in infamy. INFAMY.
And by buggery did they lose big.
D. Charlton asked a cutting question recently (it was, I admit, hard to find sense in a fog of misguided comments). He asked:
“How many runs to England need to score to beat T&T tonight - before a ball is bowled?”
Well, let’s see. T&T’s land area is 1,980 square miles, and, as we saw yesterday, England is 50,351 square miles.
So, by my reckoning, the first ball of the match needed to be a no-ball, from which, England would proceed to run a relative modest 3,335 over-throws.
After achieving this, only then could England consider winning.
But, once again, our boys in whatever colour it is their advertisers have chosen for them these days, have failed us. And failed us bad.
By my recalibrated understanding of “the rules” England lost by 3,499 runs. Once again, not only did the opposition manage to chase down England’s total of 141 after just two balls, but they proceeded to put on a sensational show of hitting just to entertain the crowd and certain deluded parts of my mind.
What a victory by the young men from two islands whose names both begin with the letter “T” – what are the chances of that! After such a strurpling win under their belts, success, wealth and many, many women will surely come their way.
For England (and a small, rubbishy part of South Africa) this day will live in infamy. INFAMY.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Bit of England beaten by the rest of England
The Allen Twatford league has started recently.The “All-stars” (containing, by my count, exactly two stars) beat Trinidad and Tobago (who have three stars).
Middlesex, spurred on by its greatest member, Twickenham, only just lost to the bullying efforts of all the rest of England combined. You might say that it was unfair. So, being the failed statistician that I am, I would like to correct the imbalance using mathematics.
Middlesex is 282 square miles and its population totals 1,576,636, of whom 738,904 are males.
England, on the other hand, is 50,351 square miles, with a population of 49,138,831 (let’s say 49% of them are male: 24,078,027).
England is 179 times bigger than Middlesex, and 32 times more populace (in terms of males).
So, using high level statistical theory that none of you would understand, we can adjust for this difference, to reveal the actual result:
England (122) lost to Middlesex (19,511) by 19,389 runs.
Not only did the London side surpass the England score with ease, but that added nearly twenty thousand more runs just for good measure.
This, I think we’ll all agree, is a much more accurate way of measuring the relative disparities in sides, and should be rolled out to all real statisticians forthwith.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Bangladesh robbed by bad luck (and skill)
I know I’m preaching to the converted, but do you see? DO YOU SEE?
Do you see why test cricket is the best form of the game?
Bangladesh aren’t great, but they are improving. And they have some players that might even get into a Twickenham eleven. Given a few injuries.
Occasionally, they are capable of some Steve Tikolo-like efforts. Mohammad Ashraful has put in some impressive knocks, and some of their fans have strong opinions.
Now, Shakib Al Hasan, has burst onto the scene like a meaty porn star, and made a complete mess of the New Zealand boys. Those caps don’t look so black now.
Shakib scronked nine wickets in the match. Which, by most people standard’s, is pretty good. By Australian standard’s, that’s amazing-incredible-do-you-want-a-passport-mate?
Yet, AND YET, New Zealand are nevertheless, the better side. Look at them. Alright, they’re a scruffy bunch of Oasis-wannabes, but they have been playing cricket for a while now.
And, lead by their spin bowling captain genius Mr Trousers, the Kiwis absorbed the fright, recovered and forced an unflustered victory.
If this was a one-dayer, we’d be heralding an unexpected, if unsatisfying upset. If it was a twenty20, we’d be staring at the ceiling whilst our partner snored away.
Yet, the ups and downs, the interplay of luck and, ultimately, the skill were all allowed to entertain us.
“Yeah.” You might be thinking, “So what? I know this, and you always go on about tests.”
Ha. But, you’ll notice the gratuitous Steve Tikolo mention. Clever that.
Do you see why test cricket is the best form of the game?
Bangladesh aren’t great, but they are improving. And they have some players that might even get into a Twickenham eleven. Given a few injuries.
Occasionally, they are capable of some Steve Tikolo-like efforts. Mohammad Ashraful has put in some impressive knocks, and some of their fans have strong opinions.
Now, Shakib Al Hasan, has burst onto the scene like a meaty porn star, and made a complete mess of the New Zealand boys. Those caps don’t look so black now.
Shakib scronked nine wickets in the match. Which, by most people standard’s, is pretty good. By Australian standard’s, that’s amazing-incredible-do-you-want-a-passport-mate?
Yet, AND YET, New Zealand are nevertheless, the better side. Look at them. Alright, they’re a scruffy bunch of Oasis-wannabes, but they have been playing cricket for a while now.
And, lead by their spin bowling captain genius Mr Trousers, the Kiwis absorbed the fright, recovered and forced an unflustered victory.
If this was a one-dayer, we’d be heralding an unexpected, if unsatisfying upset. If it was a twenty20, we’d be staring at the ceiling whilst our partner snored away.
Yet, the ups and downs, the interplay of luck and, ultimately, the skill were all allowed to entertain us.
“Yeah.” You might be thinking, “So what? I know this, and you always go on about tests.”
Ha. But, you’ll notice the gratuitous Steve Tikolo mention. Clever that.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Australia worse than England?
Australia’s spineless defeat to someone else reminded other island folk of England’s own feckless folding facilities.
Allow the opposition batsman to batter you to Scotland and back? No problem. The cream of your line-up intimidated by the scariness/weirdness of the opposition’s bowlers. Be my guest. Fill your covers with immobile old men? After you, old bean.
The Australian defeat will be treated by the more generous and open minded of us with even-handed hoots of laughter. By to those of us who are partisan, and embittered by years of pain and humiliation at the hand of the Ozzie Boomerang of Nastiness, it is cause for a three-day sicky and national celebration.
The only problem with that last part, is that the nation I currently find myself has no idea what I’m talking about. (They have language difficulties over here.)
A lot was written after the 2005 Ashes. Most of it was wrong. People said that the series defeat marked a return of normalisation in international cricket, a resurrection in parity and possibly, just possibly, the homecoming of interesting cricket.
If you thought that the Ozzlers were bastards before 2005, you had no idea of the meaning of the word after the Australians unleashed a furious attack on the world and common decency. All hell broke loose. And they won a lot of games.
So, after the Aussies impending doom in the sub-continent, one wonders what next for the world?
There are two possibilities: one, the Aussies get even nastier. Two, their slide continues, and stop playing Bangladesh as things are “getting a bit embarrassing.”
Actually, there are about a jillion possibilities. The entire team could turn into purple umbrellas and form a boy band that “rocks for peace”.
Anyway, the central point remains:
AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Allow the opposition batsman to batter you to Scotland and back? No problem. The cream of your line-up intimidated by the scariness/weirdness of the opposition’s bowlers. Be my guest. Fill your covers with immobile old men? After you, old bean.
The Australian defeat will be treated by the more generous and open minded of us with even-handed hoots of laughter. By to those of us who are partisan, and embittered by years of pain and humiliation at the hand of the Ozzie Boomerang of Nastiness, it is cause for a three-day sicky and national celebration.
The only problem with that last part, is that the nation I currently find myself has no idea what I’m talking about. (They have language difficulties over here.)
A lot was written after the 2005 Ashes. Most of it was wrong. People said that the series defeat marked a return of normalisation in international cricket, a resurrection in parity and possibly, just possibly, the homecoming of interesting cricket.
If you thought that the Ozzlers were bastards before 2005, you had no idea of the meaning of the word after the Australians unleashed a furious attack on the world and common decency. All hell broke loose. And they won a lot of games.
So, after the Aussies impending doom in the sub-continent, one wonders what next for the world?
There are two possibilities: one, the Aussies get even nastier. Two, their slide continues, and stop playing Bangladesh as things are “getting a bit embarrassing.”
Actually, there are about a jillion possibilities. The entire team could turn into purple umbrellas and form a boy band that “rocks for peace”.
Anyway, the central point remains:
AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Dr No beats up that nasty witch from Sleeping Beauty
India are doing quite well against Australia. Theoretically, this shouldn´t be surprising. Australia are pretty useless at the moment. But, as we all know, that fact rarely results in their losing.Nevertheless, the two evil sides of world cricket are slugging it out. The Ozzlers are evil because they just are. And India are evil because they are trying to take over the world. At least all the Aussies wanted to do was piss all over it.
That, I could take.
The fact that in every “Irish” bar in Europe, there are at least three Australian males complaining about people “back home” is as bad as the Ozzy Offensive got. But, if the Indians get their way, every visit to a bar will result in serious food poisoning.
Seeing as cricket is “scripted” now, we can assume that the baddies are battling it out for a final, epic face-off against the goodies. In this case, this is England.
It´s irrevelant that the goodies are a useless sack of disabled potatoes right now. Just look at Rocky. My Aunty Derrida´s cat boxes better than Rocky, and she´s been dead for twelve (both my relative and her cat – it was a tragic, if surreal accident).
The point being, rubbishness does not prevent glory. So, if the Hollywood rules of drama apply, we can expect England to eventually overcome the victors in this show-down, through a tense, if unlikely series of events.
Then England will get to Rodger the girl. Who, in this case, will be Keira Knightley.
(You may be interested to hear that I went to school with above film bint. Apparently, she had a thing for me. But I had to say no. We simply don´t share the same tastes in skirts.)
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Weird Food
Whilst some people might be distracted by juvenile competitions between minnow pretenders, the real title for the international cricketing crown is being decided in the Western hemisphere – commonly known as the “right, if left a bit” hemisphere.That’s right, Zimbabwe and Canada, the two titans of the global stage, are slugging it out like steroid fuelled baddies on a particular gruesome episode of Power Rangers.
It’s a pretty ugly fight. Such is its scale, innocent bystanders such as Sri Lanka and Pakistan are feeling the inexorable pull of the awesome combat. It’s the Second Second World War.
Many foolish people, thought that India was the evil Dr No of the cricket world. They’re after money; they’re after your money. Watch them. They’ve become the new Australians, in that respect.
Oh, but this is beguilement. North America is where we should direct our paranoia. Canada is trying to cash in on our little game. Not only by holding pointless tournaments to crack open a market already cold and sated with cheap, homebrew maple syrup, but by bringing in cash cow Zimbabwe.
Zimbabwe’s money-making potential is limitless given that almost all Zimbabweans are trillionaires. Except those that hold their assets in Swiss bank accounts, those fellows aren’t doing nearly as well.
So yes, Canada, in a moneyed axis with Zimbabwe are up to something. And if we don’t stop them, and stop them hard, they’ll take over without us even noticing.
Just heard this quote on the radio: “English is the natural language of the human being.” Germans, take note.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Irish man goes crazy, people stand by
Kevin O’Brian (no relation to Chief O’Brian off Star Trek) felt the Guinness flow through his brain and the boggy peat of home course through his blood today. He went ape when they told him he was playing against Kenya.“Ah to be sure, I don’t mind ‘em.”
Then, he saw them, and got really mad.
“Ah, dere’s only one green-clad lookin’ bunch o’ eedjets in dis world. And tit t’istn’t not gunna’ be us.”
Before people had chance to work out what he was talking about, he scored a run an Irish ball century, eventually hitting 171 off 215.
This included 12 sixes that was described by the probably dead Formula One commentator, Murray Walker as,
“OOOOOOOOOOUT-standing.”
Kenya, by contrast, are hopeless.
This saddens me. Back in the day, I used to live there. Heck, Kenya even gave part of the right good education I enjoy today.
Yeah, their administration is Italian-esque. And every one looks like a muppet next to Steve Tikolo. But come on, people, Kenya is great. They have tigers there and stuff. Let’s make sure that they win.
And to ensure this, I call for all my East African readers to head to Gymkhana Ground at Nai-robbery, find the Irish dressing room, and leave some open bottles of whiskey outside their windows. Don’t spend too much on it. Remember, they’re Irish.
They’ll sniff it out quickly enough.
This should redress the balance a little (either that, or give those bog-trotters greater powers still) and heighten Kenya’s chances of progressing to the ICC’s Baby Boo Boo League.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Finally, people have come to their senses
At last, someone is placing personal interests over collective benefit. Some dodgy company I’ve never heard of, has threatened to bring down the entire Stanford circus, unless it gets its way.Brilliant.
This company, Dulux, or something, came out of nowhere and insisted that it should receive all the proceeds to the up-and-coming Caribbean shambles. Apparently, they're the official paint of the West Indies team, and got the House of Lords to agree to their insane demands.
Lord Denning, in his judgment, stated,
“There shall be no whitewash in the cricket.”
Previously, Allen Wankford had argued that the Windies’ sponsors were nothing more than weenies. When the Dulux Dog (team mascot and number three) heard this, he was said to be livid.
“I’m livid, me.”
But now things have resolved themselves with the natural ease of most problems in a free market economy. Bastardford held a jubilant press conference after the compromise was hammered out:
“I have wired a huge amount of money to the Dulux Dog. He has accepted this gesture with the kindness with which it was given, and now we will proceed to walk over all those who stand before us.”
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Let’s delude ourselves further
There are some difficult questions in life – how many times does a person need to sneeze before the need to say “bless you” dissipates. I reckon it’s about three consecutive sneezes, any more and you need to wait until the fit is over, whereupon you can say something hilarious like, “going for the record, eh?”
Another toughie might be: Michael Clarke – what’s that all about?
Michael Clarke has a dicky tummy. He’s in India. And people are worried about this. He’s in India, people, India.
Anyway, let me formulate an answer to my original question. Michael Clarke, Shane Watson and all of their ilk, although universally recognised as rubbish, still take runs, steal catches and sport womanly good hair. But they are nevertheless essentially crap.
This is the sort of thing that you need to tell yourself when the Ozzlers pulverise your childhood heros again, pounding them into a crusy, lump dust that floats uncomfortably up your nose.
Let’s look at these players:
- Matthew Hayden
- Michael the Hussey
- Stuart Clark
The list is ended. I put it to an Australian that I met in a bar in Berlin’s red light district, that these players are essentially crap, but it’s only their complete bastardliness that results in success.
His response wasn’t especially cogent. He started mumbling about how England were dead lucky in 2005 and why hasn’t she got the clothes, she needs them, I mean look at her. And, to emphasise how strongly he felt about this, he knocked over his oversized beer all over me.
That’s how Australians feel about the rest of the world. Foreigners are to be treated with poorly co-ordinated contempt, no matter how legless you are.
Another toughie might be: Michael Clarke – what’s that all about?
Michael Clarke has a dicky tummy. He’s in India. And people are worried about this. He’s in India, people, India.
Anyway, let me formulate an answer to my original question. Michael Clarke, Shane Watson and all of their ilk, although universally recognised as rubbish, still take runs, steal catches and sport womanly good hair. But they are nevertheless essentially crap.
This is the sort of thing that you need to tell yourself when the Ozzlers pulverise your childhood heros again, pounding them into a crusy, lump dust that floats uncomfortably up your nose.
Let’s look at these players:
- Matthew Hayden
- Michael the Hussey
- Stuart Clark
The list is ended. I put it to an Australian that I met in a bar in Berlin’s red light district, that these players are essentially crap, but it’s only their complete bastardliness that results in success.
His response wasn’t especially cogent. He started mumbling about how England were dead lucky in 2005 and why hasn’t she got the clothes, she needs them, I mean look at her. And, to emphasise how strongly he felt about this, he knocked over his oversized beer all over me.
That’s how Australians feel about the rest of the world. Foreigners are to be treated with poorly co-ordinated contempt, no matter how legless you are.
Let’s delude ourselves further
There are some difficult questions in life – how many times does a person need to sneeze before the need to say “bless you” dissipates. I reckon it’s about three consecutive sneezes, any more and you need to wait until the fit is over, whereupon you can say something hilarious like, “going for the record, eh?”
Another toughie might be: Michael Clarke – what’s that all about?
Michael Clarke has a dicky tummy. He’s in India. And people are worried about this. He’s in India, people, India.
Anyway, let me formulate an answer to my original question. Michael Clarke, Shane Watson and all of their ilk, although universally recognised as rubbish, still take runs, steal catches and sport womanly good hair. But they are nevertheless essentially crap.
This is the sort of thing that you need to tell yourself when the Ozzlers pulverise your childhood heros again, pounding them into a crusy, lump dust that floats uncomfortably up your nose.
Let’s look at these players:
- Matthew Hayden
- Michael the Hussey
- Stuart Clark
The list is ended. I put it to an Australian that I met in a bar in Berlin’s red light district, that these players are essentially crap, but it’s only their complete bastardliness that results in success.
His response wasn’t especially cogent. He started mumbling about how England were dead lucky in 2005 and why hasn’t she got the clothes, she needs them, I mean look at her. And, to emphasise how strongly he felt about this, he knocked over his oversized beer all over me.
That’s how Australians feel about the rest of the world. Foreigners are to be treated with poorly co-ordinated contempt, no matter how legless you are.
Another toughie might be: Michael Clarke – what’s that all about?
Michael Clarke has a dicky tummy. He’s in India. And people are worried about this. He’s in India, people, India.
Anyway, let me formulate an answer to my original question. Michael Clarke, Shane Watson and all of their ilk, although universally recognised as rubbish, still take runs, steal catches and sport womanly good hair. But they are nevertheless essentially crap.
This is the sort of thing that you need to tell yourself when the Ozzlers pulverise your childhood heros again, pounding them into a crusy, lump dust that floats uncomfortably up your nose.
Let’s look at these players:
- Matthew Hayden
- Michael the Hussey
- Stuart Clark
The list is ended. I put it to an Australian that I met in a bar in Berlin’s red light district, that these players are essentially crap, but it’s only their complete bastardliness that results in success.
His response wasn’t especially cogent. He started mumbling about how England were dead lucky in 2005 and why hasn’t she got the clothes, she needs them, I mean look at her. And, to emphasise how strongly he felt about this, he knocked over his oversized beer all over me.
That’s how Australians feel about the rest of the world. Foreigners are to be treated with poorly co-ordinated contempt, no matter how legless you are.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Laugh at the Australians and their hopeless spinners
AH AHAHAHA
This rotational Antipodean incompetence brings back warm jolly memories.
Australians are absolutely, totally, comprehensively, hilariously useless at spinning. That their best spinners are part timers - one a Somerset lad, another a bloke more interested in fishing than cricket - only adds to international mirth.
Of course there’s a lot of joyous Schadenfreude to be had in their Sheisse bowlers. Naturally, it doesn’t matter how terrible their players are, the Australians will always win anyway.
Right. Let’s rate the Ozzies’ finest:
Bryce McGain – the sum total age of his body parts is equal to that of the Black Forest. He’s injured at the moment. I haven’t confirmed that this is his current status, but his permanent condition is of some degree of invalidity.
Jason Krejza – Not only does this bloke have a rock ‘n roll name, but viewing his stats is like ascending a stairway to heaven. That is, if heaven is full of massive spinner-bludgeoning titans. In a word: HA! In more: AAAAHAHAHAHAAH!
Now we come to the real snorters:
Cameron Biscuit - Originally from the Clark’s Village in Street, this Somerset lad turned evil, and joined the dark side. And then, after leaving Gloucestershire, he hooked up with the Ozzies. Whilst he played in the English county leagues, he topped the averages of spinners that weren’t Mushtaq Ahmed.
Andrew Brummie - Another Turn-Coat, this man has, for some reason, put countless world attacks to the sword. How this is, I’m not sure. Worse still, he’s a spinner that sometimes bowls medium pace. What sort of monster this thing is, I’m not sure. But, I suppose this strange ogre is from Birmingham. So, I suppose it sort of makes sense. Ewwwww.
Anyway, the point is this:
Laugh and jeer at the Australians. Do it now. Do it before they grind your side into the dust with their feckless bowlers.
This rotational Antipodean incompetence brings back warm jolly memories.
Australians are absolutely, totally, comprehensively, hilariously useless at spinning. That their best spinners are part timers - one a Somerset lad, another a bloke more interested in fishing than cricket - only adds to international mirth.
Of course there’s a lot of joyous Schadenfreude to be had in their Sheisse bowlers. Naturally, it doesn’t matter how terrible their players are, the Australians will always win anyway.
Right. Let’s rate the Ozzies’ finest:
Bryce McGain – the sum total age of his body parts is equal to that of the Black Forest. He’s injured at the moment. I haven’t confirmed that this is his current status, but his permanent condition is of some degree of invalidity.
Jason Krejza – Not only does this bloke have a rock ‘n roll name, but viewing his stats is like ascending a stairway to heaven. That is, if heaven is full of massive spinner-bludgeoning titans. In a word: HA! In more: AAAAHAHAHAHAAH!
Now we come to the real snorters:
Cameron Biscuit - Originally from the Clark’s Village in Street, this Somerset lad turned evil, and joined the dark side. And then, after leaving Gloucestershire, he hooked up with the Ozzies. Whilst he played in the English county leagues, he topped the averages of spinners that weren’t Mushtaq Ahmed.
Andrew Brummie - Another Turn-Coat, this man has, for some reason, put countless world attacks to the sword. How this is, I’m not sure. Worse still, he’s a spinner that sometimes bowls medium pace. What sort of monster this thing is, I’m not sure. But, I suppose this strange ogre is from Birmingham. So, I suppose it sort of makes sense. Ewwwww.
Anyway, the point is this:
Laugh and jeer at the Australians. Do it now. Do it before they grind your side into the dust with their feckless bowlers.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Cricket: now the Australians are doing it
The English and German cricket seasons are at an end. This is obviously very sad.
But it’s ok, because the international season is taking over. So, for fans of the County Championship, it’s more of the same: Australians battering seven shades of sauerkraut out of everyone else.
Apparently, they’re going to play India again. The reason for this is nothing to do with money. India is an uncorrupted country, still battling for the purity of the game.
The Australians are just along for the ride.
So, obviously this serious is too close to the last one. The sides are more of less unchanged. Although, the Indians are taking some forward steps by picking Sourav Ganguly – known to the world as Mr Giggles.
Australian coach and chief book-maker, Dringo Wallaroorodger, was over-heard to say,
“We’re playing these bastards again. Oh Christ, what do they think we are? Trained apes?”
Of course this is going to be a disappointment. Remember the Ashes after 2005? That was a right proper rubbish series. The Australian were just a push over.
But it’s ok, because the international season is taking over. So, for fans of the County Championship, it’s more of the same: Australians battering seven shades of sauerkraut out of everyone else.
Apparently, they’re going to play India again. The reason for this is nothing to do with money. India is an uncorrupted country, still battling for the purity of the game.
The Australians are just along for the ride.
So, obviously this serious is too close to the last one. The sides are more of less unchanged. Although, the Indians are taking some forward steps by picking Sourav Ganguly – known to the world as Mr Giggles.
Australian coach and chief book-maker, Dringo Wallaroorodger, was over-heard to say,
“We’re playing these bastards again. Oh Christ, what do they think we are? Trained apes?”
Of course this is going to be a disappointment. Remember the Ashes after 2005? That was a right proper rubbish series. The Australian were just a push over.
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