Andrew Flintoff has rejected the entire English nation. He said, in a statement recently,
"To be honest, like, I don't really like the lot o'yous. So, if it's ok, I'm gunna take the money and you can all piss off, alright?"
This is part of his bid to become the first freelance cricketer since F.R.O.OP. "Blinkers" Staple-Gunn in the 1840s, who was famed for bowling for sex and the theft of two-man, peddle-powered boats.
The English nation rejoiced in the impoverished Flintoff's move. Little Emily from Clacton, aged eight, remarked,
"Fweddie Flintoff has also been my hero. Now that he has ripped out my heart for a quick buck, he has taught me the value of never trusting anyone ever again. I now want to become a management consultant."
In a quote that I didn't make up, Flintoff has had said:
"I said when I retired from Test cricket my ambition was to become the best one-day and Twenty20 player in the world," the 31-year-old said. Playing in all these different countries can only help."
One less country though, mind.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Australians get pissed and thrown out of a club in London
Three Australian got pissed on Saturday night. They went to a series of fancy London nightclubs the likes of me would never see in a jillion years.Brett Lee, Mitchell Johnson and that Callum Ferguson were on the razz to celebrate their pounding of the Englanders. Whilst painting the town canary orange in Mo*vida, they attracted the attention of a crowd of City Boys.
Champaigne cocktails flowed as liberally as office instant coffee. So much so, that the Ozzlers switched to "drunk, arsey types" and began to prattle on about their triumph over England.
Endlessly.
So irritating was their company that the finance workers eventually expunged their company. Skuffles followed. As did the intervention of the bouncers, whereupon the Australian role-models to millions were ejected into the cold, dark London night.
The source for this is a highly reputable organ that is not on its last knackers before bankruptcy proceedings kick in on Friday.
Being caste out by City bankers because you’re being too much of a bragging tit is, I wager, an achievement of unparalleled prattishnes. Again, Australians lead where only friendless pissheads dare.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Do we really like cricket?
Briefly moving over England “new era” of global dominance, I’m going talk about something else. Cricket.
Cricket fans are hard to please. It’s normally raining, one-sided hammering or ponced-up yammering so we do have a lot to complain about.
The fans love the thrill of it all. The sixes, the wickets and the drama of sport. And yet, when any of these things happen, we tend to moan.
Too many runs: boring. Too many wickets: no value for money. Excitement of any sort: not pure cricket.
There were too many World Cup games. Too many matches. It’s all too much. There’s too much cricket these days. This commonly accepted truth is witlessly repeated ad nauseum, but the case against players re-weighting their schedule away from lackadaisical domestic games to high intensity international matches has never been successfully made to me.
All we know is that, as cricket fans, we fear change and must ruthlessly defend the status quo while Francis and Rick still have air in their lungs.
Those lazy thinkers of older generations carelessly assume that the world, like them, is in decay and that modernity equates immorality and decline. Cricket fans, naturally being cantankerous octogenarians in their outlook, ape this mentality.
Yet still, older elements of the game still infuriate some. Here’s a quote from today’s cricinfo OBO doodle-ma-whatsit:
“I love these middle-overs. This may be my last time on commentary, but by heck - these middling overs are nothing less than a fantastic waste of everybody's time.”
I suppose the commentator is correct. Cricket is a fantastic waste of time. I have wasted hours watching a group of men work themselves into a lather over the relatively small movement of leather and wooden objects. I have wasted hours travelling to see these non-events. If I aggregated the sum total of these hours, I could have done one of the following:
- Learnt French;
- Written an unsuccessful yet worthy novella;
- Traversed the perimeter of Mongolia twelve times on racing yak;
- Understood long division;
- Saved the children of Belgium from the whatever baddies they battle;
- Forgotten any German.
And I suppose I could have cured a few pigeons of mange in the time it took me to write this post. But I didn’t. I WASTED MY TIME. And am now responsible for the DEATH OF UNTOLD QUANTITES OF DISGUSTING PIGEONS.
Perhaps our idea of a perfect cricket match consists of a single delivery, which is defended after which we can hurry off to the pub.
I rather feel like those far-right Americans that condemn anyone thinking that public healthcare as an un-American socialist, but I honestly don’t know what people’s problem with cricket it.
It’s alright, you know. I quite enjoy it.
And that makes me better than all of you.
Cricket fans are hard to please. It’s normally raining, one-sided hammering or ponced-up yammering so we do have a lot to complain about.
The fans love the thrill of it all. The sixes, the wickets and the drama of sport. And yet, when any of these things happen, we tend to moan.
Too many runs: boring. Too many wickets: no value for money. Excitement of any sort: not pure cricket.
There were too many World Cup games. Too many matches. It’s all too much. There’s too much cricket these days. This commonly accepted truth is witlessly repeated ad nauseum, but the case against players re-weighting their schedule away from lackadaisical domestic games to high intensity international matches has never been successfully made to me.
All we know is that, as cricket fans, we fear change and must ruthlessly defend the status quo while Francis and Rick still have air in their lungs.
Those lazy thinkers of older generations carelessly assume that the world, like them, is in decay and that modernity equates immorality and decline. Cricket fans, naturally being cantankerous octogenarians in their outlook, ape this mentality.
Yet still, older elements of the game still infuriate some. Here’s a quote from today’s cricinfo OBO doodle-ma-whatsit:
“I love these middle-overs. This may be my last time on commentary, but by heck - these middling overs are nothing less than a fantastic waste of everybody's time.”
I suppose the commentator is correct. Cricket is a fantastic waste of time. I have wasted hours watching a group of men work themselves into a lather over the relatively small movement of leather and wooden objects. I have wasted hours travelling to see these non-events. If I aggregated the sum total of these hours, I could have done one of the following:
- Learnt French;
- Written an unsuccessful yet worthy novella;
- Traversed the perimeter of Mongolia twelve times on racing yak;
- Understood long division;
- Saved the children of Belgium from the whatever baddies they battle;
- Forgotten any German.
And I suppose I could have cured a few pigeons of mange in the time it took me to write this post. But I didn’t. I WASTED MY TIME. And am now responsible for the DEATH OF UNTOLD QUANTITES OF DISGUSTING PIGEONS.
Perhaps our idea of a perfect cricket match consists of a single delivery, which is defended after which we can hurry off to the pub.
I rather feel like those far-right Americans that condemn anyone thinking that public healthcare as an un-American socialist, but I honestly don’t know what people’s problem with cricket it.
It’s alright, you know. I quite enjoy it.
And that makes me better than all of you.
Thursday, September 03, 2009
Things that aren’t the best thing in the world
The entire West Indies Cricket Team
The entire West Indies is not the top ranked cricket team in the world. In the player rankings, most individuals are placed below Jesus.
The Fourth Umpire
No match is not incomplete without the inclusion of this non-essential official of uncertain responsibility. I once thought I saw in a pub Denis Engels, the famous Fourth Umpire at the not unwell known “Vicious David” incident at the Worcestershire vs. Leighton Buzzard game in 1993. but it was actually Alan Titmarsh.
Paul Collingwood
Paul Collingwood strides confidentially around his three inch square spot in the Pantheon of Glory that is Things That Aren’t The Best Thing In The World. His defiant refusal to ever forge a match-winning innings has won plaudits from across the world as being “below Bradman-esque.”
Scripts for cricket
Five years ago, players could not have “scripted” a better match. Now they regularly “script” opponents out by “scripting” in advance. No one knows what they are talking about. This phenomenon is generally considered not at all like parachuting out of a plane with no pants on.
Playing football at any time
Standing in a raining park, whilst your hopeless team slumps to defeat in the mud has been described by Arthur Cabbage of Whittlestonworth as “not as good as sex with greased up dolphins.” As a means to bond young cricketers it has been variously called “unearthshattering”, “ok s’pose” and “round”.
Giles Clarke
Business skills below those of internationally respected Texan billionaire Alan Twatford, but better than Yoda’s.
The entire West Indies is not the top ranked cricket team in the world. In the player rankings, most individuals are placed below Jesus.
The Fourth Umpire
No match is not incomplete without the inclusion of this non-essential official of uncertain responsibility. I once thought I saw in a pub Denis Engels, the famous Fourth Umpire at the not unwell known “Vicious David” incident at the Worcestershire vs. Leighton Buzzard game in 1993. but it was actually Alan Titmarsh.
Paul Collingwood
Paul Collingwood strides confidentially around his three inch square spot in the Pantheon of Glory that is Things That Aren’t The Best Thing In The World. His defiant refusal to ever forge a match-winning innings has won plaudits from across the world as being “below Bradman-esque.”
Scripts for cricket
Five years ago, players could not have “scripted” a better match. Now they regularly “script” opponents out by “scripting” in advance. No one knows what they are talking about. This phenomenon is generally considered not at all like parachuting out of a plane with no pants on.
Playing football at any time
Standing in a raining park, whilst your hopeless team slumps to defeat in the mud has been described by Arthur Cabbage of Whittlestonworth as “not as good as sex with greased up dolphins.” As a means to bond young cricketers it has been variously called “unearthshattering”, “ok s’pose” and “round”.
Giles Clarke
Business skills below those of internationally respected Texan billionaire Alan Twatford, but better than Yoda’s.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Blackwell comes from no-where to skittle Somerset
Durham’s hitherto unheard of mystery spinner, Ian “Dark Horse” Blackwell has rolled over Somerset at Chester-lee-Street.Blackwell span, bounced and doosra-ed his was to 5 for 7 in 8.1 overs, leaving the mighty men of the West in tatters at 174 all out.
A spokesman for Somerset stated:
“Who the hell is this guy? He looks a bit foreign to me, and I’m sure that Durham aren’t playing by rules by playing him. Surely it’s only fair that we get to have a look at him?”
It is fortunate for Durham that there mystifying tweaker came to their aid, as their pace attack has been significantly weakened now that Steve Harmison is no longer on England duty.
They'll probably go on to win the UEFA Cup now. Bloody brilliant, in the words of Ron.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
England win twenty20 series because that’s how GOD wants it
The England cricket team rub sulphurous hail stones into Australian wounds today by winning the match by having it abandoned.
No content with their Ashes triumph through fixing the pitch and nobbling the umpires, the Englanders further emasculated the Ozzlers by bribing the weather gods to piss it down. We don’t pay Ulbator Choobleton for nothing.
Some might dispute this “win”. But I dispute them. Clearly, if the Ozzos are not able to contend with the weather that we fight our way through to work every morning, then it reveals a lack of character that is unsuited to the trials of international sport.
Of course, Old Trafford has long maintained that it is a world class cricketing venue, with high quality flood lights and drainage facilities. Undoubtedly true. But it is in Manchester. And when the Mancunian rain isn’t cancelling my connecting flights to France, it’s pissing on the Australian parade.
So, in terms of the last three series we have played against Baggy Bums, England have won three. They nought.
It is said that the South Africans are the worst fans to gloat, and to bang on and on about fluked victories. But I think it is time that English fans build on current achievements, and strive for that top spot in international cricket.
For the Queen.
No content with their Ashes triumph through fixing the pitch and nobbling the umpires, the Englanders further emasculated the Ozzlers by bribing the weather gods to piss it down. We don’t pay Ulbator Choobleton for nothing.
Some might dispute this “win”. But I dispute them. Clearly, if the Ozzos are not able to contend with the weather that we fight our way through to work every morning, then it reveals a lack of character that is unsuited to the trials of international sport.
Of course, Old Trafford has long maintained that it is a world class cricketing venue, with high quality flood lights and drainage facilities. Undoubtedly true. But it is in Manchester. And when the Mancunian rain isn’t cancelling my connecting flights to France, it’s pissing on the Australian parade.
So, in terms of the last three series we have played against Baggy Bums, England have won three. They nought.
It is said that the South Africans are the worst fans to gloat, and to bang on and on about fluked victories. But I think it is time that English fans build on current achievements, and strive for that top spot in international cricket.
For the Queen.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Guest blogger: The Spanish perspective on the Ashes
I have discovered something new about the caracter of The Atheist(even when I supposed that could not happen)he has just been following the damm Ashes for the last days, while I have been going outside and enjoying the weather in the night in Madrid.
Well, I got up from siesta, well I noticed a soft sound by my side... I hardly opened my eyes and ... he was in there ... standing ... with his eyes open, staring at the computer...
"Oh...I dont knwo what to do....England have not lost...how is this posible?...what I can do now?...without the chance of complaining...what is cricket for?..."
Yes..he is like the Dilbert of the cricket.
Well, I got up from siesta, well I noticed a soft sound by my side... I hardly opened my eyes and ... he was in there ... standing ... with his eyes open, staring at the computer...
"Oh...I dont knwo what to do....England have not lost...how is this posible?...what I can do now?...without the chance of complaining...what is cricket for?..."
Yes..he is like the Dilbert of the cricket.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
England "do a Mandleson"
Peter, sorry LORD Mandleson had an interesting political career. Often
attributed with the transformation of Labour from a political party
with values to an all-conquering media machine, he has significantly
impacted upon British politics. It is alleged that he “spotted” young
sproutlings Tony Blair and Gordon Brown – by which we mean that he
leached onto them and devoured their life energy once they became
powerful. Rather like a red-socked wearing parasite investing in elephant stocks.
Anyway, once power was achieved, Mandy had a hilariously insecure grip
on his position. After a series of riotous failures, he was in and
out of Government like a window cleaner. However, a final scandal saw
him banished again, and he was sent to the backwaters of Brussels -
the political equivalent of the county cricket scene.
Only now, in Gordon’s last desperate hour, after his Lordship has
excelled in Europe, has the Prime Minister hit the panic button and
recalled Mandy for a third time. Now Mandleson is akin to a GOD. There
are no limits to his powers, or titles. His influence in the country
is second only to that of Alan Sugar.
Mark Ramprakash, it seems, may also consider another brief spell to the top
of the tree.
Ramprakash has outclassed all that he has faced for the past three
years. His county-level success is Bradmanian in scale, Mandlesonian
even. And thus, in England’s current intoxicating crisis, are we
considering a return Blair’s Britain.
Unfortunately, the England cricket team didn’t do under Blair. In
fact, As a general rule, England tend to do better under Conservative
governments.
But that we are panicked enough to deep into the dark days of Puffa jackets, Teletubbies and Dana International is signs of a serious collapse in confidence.
Everyone is chipping in with potential number threes. Potential number threes are sounded out to discuss their opinions on their potential. Past number threes are urged out of retirement to give their views on their potential.
At some point someone will be advocating Stephen Fry for the number
three slot. I don’t know why. People always advocate Stephen Fry to do
everything. Apparently, his being on the telly every five minutes
isn’t enough. I don’t know why.
attributed with the transformation of Labour from a political party
with values to an all-conquering media machine, he has significantly
impacted upon British politics. It is alleged that he “spotted” young
sproutlings Tony Blair and Gordon Brown – by which we mean that he
leached onto them and devoured their life energy once they became
powerful. Rather like a red-socked wearing parasite investing in elephant stocks.
Anyway, once power was achieved, Mandy had a hilariously insecure grip
on his position. After a series of riotous failures, he was in and
out of Government like a window cleaner. However, a final scandal saw
him banished again, and he was sent to the backwaters of Brussels -
the political equivalent of the county cricket scene.
Only now, in Gordon’s last desperate hour, after his Lordship has
excelled in Europe, has the Prime Minister hit the panic button and
recalled Mandy for a third time. Now Mandleson is akin to a GOD. There
are no limits to his powers, or titles. His influence in the country
is second only to that of Alan Sugar.
Mark Ramprakash, it seems, may also consider another brief spell to the top
of the tree.
Ramprakash has outclassed all that he has faced for the past three
years. His county-level success is Bradmanian in scale, Mandlesonian
even. And thus, in England’s current intoxicating crisis, are we
considering a return Blair’s Britain.
Unfortunately, the England cricket team didn’t do under Blair. In
fact, As a general rule, England tend to do better under Conservative
governments.
But that we are panicked enough to deep into the dark days of Puffa jackets, Teletubbies and Dana International is signs of a serious collapse in confidence.
Everyone is chipping in with potential number threes. Potential number threes are sounded out to discuss their opinions on their potential. Past number threes are urged out of retirement to give their views on their potential.
At some point someone will be advocating Stephen Fry for the number
three slot. I don’t know why. People always advocate Stephen Fry to do
everything. Apparently, his being on the telly every five minutes
isn’t enough. I don’t know why.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Flintoff unfit - truth revealed
According to England management, the team's Big Man, Andrew Flintoff, just wasn't getting his balls down fast enough in pre-match warm-ups. An official stated:"I don't know what was wrong with him. We were trying various techniques, different strokes, but he just didn't seem to be feeling it. He needs a rest, the appendage in question is nearly red-raw with over-use - he's a big man and puts his body under a lot of pressure. We're hoping that he can stand tall once he's in the Oval."
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Forcing form
England’s line-up has consisted of a number of figures that justify their position purely for reasons of stability and consistency for the broader team.
Ravi Bopara, not only has he suffered from the premature spotlight that comes with over-promotion, but retains his place only because of the wider desire not to upset the batting order.
Graeme Swann, although feisty in the field, and with the bat, has also underperformed. Until Headingley, Stuart Broad was a liability with the ball.
There are mixed lessons for the England management. It has taken three Ashes tests before Broad performed. And all four have been scotched as far as Bopara and Swann are concerned.
But, there is this assumption that stability breeds success: That a settled side has the confidence as a functioning unit to think about the long term.
Underlying this, is a second assumption, that this team unity will pull flaggers upwards and convert stragglers into battlers.
The depleting effects and resentment that comes with carrying passengers aside, on the basis of the evidence of this series, there is little evidence to suppose that this thesis is correct.
Of course it is true, and no one wants to return to the disastrous chop and change strategy of yore, there is a balance to strike.
Continual failure after the opposition has worked you out, can worsen your prospects if you don’t have the character to fight back with continued exposure.
In any case, England have dug themselves into a hole now. So blatant is the batting order’s weaknesses, is that some form of panic button pressing is inevitable.
Confidence from the top to the bottom is so shot that new blood is vital to fight back. Otherwise, the fragile line-up of goons that England has constructed will implode again.
Ravi Bopara, not only has he suffered from the premature spotlight that comes with over-promotion, but retains his place only because of the wider desire not to upset the batting order.
Graeme Swann, although feisty in the field, and with the bat, has also underperformed. Until Headingley, Stuart Broad was a liability with the ball.
There are mixed lessons for the England management. It has taken three Ashes tests before Broad performed. And all four have been scotched as far as Bopara and Swann are concerned.
But, there is this assumption that stability breeds success: That a settled side has the confidence as a functioning unit to think about the long term.
Underlying this, is a second assumption, that this team unity will pull flaggers upwards and convert stragglers into battlers.
The depleting effects and resentment that comes with carrying passengers aside, on the basis of the evidence of this series, there is little evidence to suppose that this thesis is correct.
Of course it is true, and no one wants to return to the disastrous chop and change strategy of yore, there is a balance to strike.
Continual failure after the opposition has worked you out, can worsen your prospects if you don’t have the character to fight back with continued exposure.
In any case, England have dug themselves into a hole now. So blatant is the batting order’s weaknesses, is that some form of panic button pressing is inevitable.
Confidence from the top to the bottom is so shot that new blood is vital to fight back. Otherwise, the fragile line-up of goons that England has constructed will implode again.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Why England lost
Ravi Bopara got a dodgy decision, first ball in the second innings.
If it wasn’t for the umpires, we’d have blitzed the match.
Damned umps.
If it wasn’t for the umpires, we’d have blitzed the match.
Damned umps.
Sunday, August 09, 2009
James Anderson double hundred anyone?
To set up the same up nicely for Australia with 250 to chase.
God I hate the England cricket team.
So much.
But mostly the press. They made us believe. They made us believe even when Harmicrap was playing.
God I hate them all.
So much.
Here's some Rous Sareysothea to cheer you up.
God I hate the England cricket team.
So much.
But mostly the press. They made us believe. They made us believe even when Harmicrap was playing.
God I hate them all.
So much.
Here's some Rous Sareysothea to cheer you up.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
The science of swing – clouds don’t help
I urge you all to read this article. It is a fascinating exposé of the modern myth of swing bowling. In essence, the idea that humidity effects movement is false.
A NASA scientist, after a series of exhaustive experiments, failed to prove a connection between atmospheric conditions and the extent of swing.
Rabindra Mehta, the aerodynamic expert in question, argues that there are many causes and methods of swinging the ball. In fact, there are three types of swing.
1. Normal swing.
Caused by turbulence in the airflows around the seam, reducing the pressure on one side, altering the trajectory. The age, lacquer and condition of the leather is irrelevant: it is the seam that singularly disrupts the air flow.
2. Reverse swing
Caused by roughness on one side of the ball, because of the poor condition of the leather. This leads to increased turbulence on one side, and the decreased of air pressure moves the ball towards the rough side.
3. Contrast swing
With seam position straight, the relative roughness of one side disrupts the airflow, deflecting the ball’s path. The direction depends ball speed.
Prevailing winds affect the extent of air turbulence. As does the condition of the pitch, soft, grassy pitches protect the seam and the shine of the ball. Abrasive pitches scuff it up and hard wickets depress the seam. The weather conditions are largely irrelevant.
The article suggests that overcast conditions only give a psychological advantage, such is the depth of the myth’s acceptance.
I suspect that as the softness of wickets protects the balls, then in the days of uncovered pitches, clouds and accompanying rain would give rise to conducive conditions indirectly by softening the pitch.
The strength of myths, like any ideas, is usually confirmed through years of repetition. Indeed, just below the Times’ article, is a piece about how England’s bowlers failed to capitalise on the “humid conditions” at Edgbaston.
A NASA scientist, after a series of exhaustive experiments, failed to prove a connection between atmospheric conditions and the extent of swing.
Rabindra Mehta, the aerodynamic expert in question, argues that there are many causes and methods of swinging the ball. In fact, there are three types of swing.
1. Normal swing.
Caused by turbulence in the airflows around the seam, reducing the pressure on one side, altering the trajectory. The age, lacquer and condition of the leather is irrelevant: it is the seam that singularly disrupts the air flow.
2. Reverse swing
Caused by roughness on one side of the ball, because of the poor condition of the leather. This leads to increased turbulence on one side, and the decreased of air pressure moves the ball towards the rough side.
3. Contrast swing
With seam position straight, the relative roughness of one side disrupts the airflow, deflecting the ball’s path. The direction depends ball speed.
Prevailing winds affect the extent of air turbulence. As does the condition of the pitch, soft, grassy pitches protect the seam and the shine of the ball. Abrasive pitches scuff it up and hard wickets depress the seam. The weather conditions are largely irrelevant.
The article suggests that overcast conditions only give a psychological advantage, such is the depth of the myth’s acceptance.
I suspect that as the softness of wickets protects the balls, then in the days of uncovered pitches, clouds and accompanying rain would give rise to conducive conditions indirectly by softening the pitch.
The strength of myths, like any ideas, is usually confirmed through years of repetition. Indeed, just below the Times’ article, is a piece about how England’s bowlers failed to capitalise on the “humid conditions” at Edgbaston.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Civilisation moves in to crack down on Northerners
Once every so often we have to do something unseemly. That may be acknowledging the existence of ugly people, notifying the servants that the toilet in the Shavon room requires cleaning, or in the case of the cricketing authorities, Going To Yorkshire.
Fear not. This isn’t a twisted euphemism for self administered enemas, but rather the regular requirement of willingly entering the domain of the Yorkshireman.
Much like the Victorian frontiers of colonial influence, the tension between culture and sophistication on the one hand and God’s Forgotten County occasionally crackle forth from unwelcome truce.
Societal battles are most obvious when Geoffrey Boycott and Jonathan Agnew share the microphone. The mutual contempt rouses TMS from its default slumbers. Their encounters usually follow the follow pattern:
AG: I am now expressing an opinion.
GB: Eh. Lad, don’t be so daft! That’s madness is that.
AG: Well, it is an interesting thought.
GB: Oh, if I were still playing, I wouldn’t mind a bit of that. I tell you, if you did that, I would be queuing up for it, I would.
AG: Just thought, Geoffrey, something the captain might want to think about.
GB: Thought. From a part time seamer from Leicestershire? A ha ha ha. The captain listen to that? Ha ha ha. To a bloke who got, what is it, three test match wickets. Ah ha ha ha. I would be queuing up for it I would! Stick of rhubarb! Ah ha ha! The good old times! Ah ha ha!
AG: Ahem. It’s all over Geoffrey. It’s finished. The pads are away. Finished for good.
GB: It would be with you bowling, in no time at all! With my mum batting! Ah ha ha!
AG: No. I meant your career.
GB: Oh.
[Awkward silence for about half a second.]
GB: Oh no god! They need to pitch it oop more.
It’s a familiar, if sad little battle. With Boycott seriously pissing off Agnew, not through any maliciousness, because this is the only way that Boycott knows how to communicate with people. Agnew, hurt and embarrassed, aims fight back. Geoffry fails to understand, and continues to complain about everything.
Anyway, the point is, for the up-coming Headingley, security will be on level “police brutality mark nine”. Headingley has a bit of a reputation for boozing and for crowds stepping over the line that only stewards and policemen see.
But, to be quite honest, so does every ground. The Oval is often site to shocking acts of drunken tom-fooling buffoonery, as is Lords. So is everywhere.
What makes Headingley different? It’s Northern. And what does that mean? It’s full of criminals. It’s refreshing to see the ECB emerge from its era of Eton-dominated, reactionary, prejudiced, wankerism.
Fear not. This isn’t a twisted euphemism for self administered enemas, but rather the regular requirement of willingly entering the domain of the Yorkshireman.
Much like the Victorian frontiers of colonial influence, the tension between culture and sophistication on the one hand and God’s Forgotten County occasionally crackle forth from unwelcome truce.
Societal battles are most obvious when Geoffrey Boycott and Jonathan Agnew share the microphone. The mutual contempt rouses TMS from its default slumbers. Their encounters usually follow the follow pattern:
AG: I am now expressing an opinion.
GB: Eh. Lad, don’t be so daft! That’s madness is that.
AG: Well, it is an interesting thought.
GB: Oh, if I were still playing, I wouldn’t mind a bit of that. I tell you, if you did that, I would be queuing up for it, I would.
AG: Just thought, Geoffrey, something the captain might want to think about.
GB: Thought. From a part time seamer from Leicestershire? A ha ha ha. The captain listen to that? Ha ha ha. To a bloke who got, what is it, three test match wickets. Ah ha ha ha. I would be queuing up for it I would! Stick of rhubarb! Ah ha ha! The good old times! Ah ha ha!
AG: Ahem. It’s all over Geoffrey. It’s finished. The pads are away. Finished for good.
GB: It would be with you bowling, in no time at all! With my mum batting! Ah ha ha!
AG: No. I meant your career.
GB: Oh.
[Awkward silence for about half a second.]
GB: Oh no god! They need to pitch it oop more.
It’s a familiar, if sad little battle. With Boycott seriously pissing off Agnew, not through any maliciousness, because this is the only way that Boycott knows how to communicate with people. Agnew, hurt and embarrassed, aims fight back. Geoffry fails to understand, and continues to complain about everything.
Anyway, the point is, for the up-coming Headingley, security will be on level “police brutality mark nine”. Headingley has a bit of a reputation for boozing and for crowds stepping over the line that only stewards and policemen see.
But, to be quite honest, so does every ground. The Oval is often site to shocking acts of drunken tom-fooling buffoonery, as is Lords. So is everywhere.
What makes Headingley different? It’s Northern. And what does that mean? It’s full of criminals. It’s refreshing to see the ECB emerge from its era of Eton-dominated, reactionary, prejudiced, wankerism.
Monday, August 03, 2009
The difference between the sides
Is bugger all. England should have won, but the ball didn’t swing. This essentially rules James Anderson and Graham Onions out of the attack.
Stuart Broad can’t bowl.
Freddie’s legs are stuck together with blu-tak.
Graeme Swann is in the side for his sledging.
So, we have a one-dimensional attack that is entirely dependent on swing and occasional burst of Flintofian genius.
The Australian batsmen look comfortable and unflustered in favourable conditions. Of course, they lunge around like panicked orang-utans when the ball moves a bit.
English batsmen look a bit rubbish, they are all-weather rubbish though. It’s the non-batsmen where the Australian bowling runs out ideas – at least, once the tail steps forth, the Ozzlers replace their “line and length” ideas with “long” and “hop”.
So, the outcome of this season much depends on how overcast it is. If the weather’s bad, England wins; if the sun shines, Australia wins.
Now, in completely unrelated news, the Met Office revised their seasonal forecast for August from a scorcher in April, to a wash-out this July.
Is a terrible summer a price worth paying for the Ashes? The all-powerful English weathermen think so. And, fair play to them, I say.
Stuart Broad can’t bowl.
Freddie’s legs are stuck together with blu-tak.
Graeme Swann is in the side for his sledging.
So, we have a one-dimensional attack that is entirely dependent on swing and occasional burst of Flintofian genius.
The Australian batsmen look comfortable and unflustered in favourable conditions. Of course, they lunge around like panicked orang-utans when the ball moves a bit.
English batsmen look a bit rubbish, they are all-weather rubbish though. It’s the non-batsmen where the Australian bowling runs out ideas – at least, once the tail steps forth, the Ozzlers replace their “line and length” ideas with “long” and “hop”.
So, the outcome of this season much depends on how overcast it is. If the weather’s bad, England wins; if the sun shines, Australia wins.
Now, in completely unrelated news, the Met Office revised their seasonal forecast for August from a scorcher in April, to a wash-out this July.
Is a terrible summer a price worth paying for the Ashes? The all-powerful English weathermen think so. And, fair play to them, I say.
Friday, July 31, 2009
What England need to do
This series is between two emotionally fragile teams. I mocked Alistair Cook’s feeble “aura” jibe at the Aussie’s expense. But I overestimated the thickness of their skins, and England launched into a major holistic therapy offensive, sensing hippy blood.
Andrew Strauss also laid into the Ozzlers’ dubious karma:
"I don't think this Australian side has got an aura about it to be honest with you and prior to this Test series starting we didn't feel they had an aura about them,"
Metaphysically cutting, I’m sure you’ll agree. Although, it’s also true and fair. In any case, Ricky Ponting responded rather tersely,
“But it's okay for him to say that now, I'm not sure he was saying that after Cardiff - we had it well and truly over most of their batsmen down there."
Which, of course, is also true. Although, they didn’t quite have Monty’s number, did they?
For some reason, Australia appears to have a weakness for this beatnik bull-plop. It’s probably something to do with the feelings of guilt they have developed after a decade of bullying and dominating the world. Much like the Germans. And looked what happened to them - they voted the Greens in.
The point is, both sides are weakened, and fatally aware of their own vulnerabilities, and any suggestion of doubt may decisive unbalance a team. Something like losing the toss seems to be a catalyst to the mood dropping.
All England need to do in Birmingham is hold it together. Go through the motions and play the game into a draw. Don’t overbowl Freddie. Recognise that your team is full of feckless midgies and move on. I mean, Stuart Broad and Graham Onions – since when were they international bowlers? In fact, when did Jimmy Anderson become our cutting edge? He’s pants.
Anyway, we must stick to tried and tested English strategy: Just hold it together until the rain comes, chaps…
Andrew Strauss also laid into the Ozzlers’ dubious karma:
"I don't think this Australian side has got an aura about it to be honest with you and prior to this Test series starting we didn't feel they had an aura about them,"
Metaphysically cutting, I’m sure you’ll agree. Although, it’s also true and fair. In any case, Ricky Ponting responded rather tersely,
“But it's okay for him to say that now, I'm not sure he was saying that after Cardiff - we had it well and truly over most of their batsmen down there."
Which, of course, is also true. Although, they didn’t quite have Monty’s number, did they?
For some reason, Australia appears to have a weakness for this beatnik bull-plop. It’s probably something to do with the feelings of guilt they have developed after a decade of bullying and dominating the world. Much like the Germans. And looked what happened to them - they voted the Greens in.
The point is, both sides are weakened, and fatally aware of their own vulnerabilities, and any suggestion of doubt may decisive unbalance a team. Something like losing the toss seems to be a catalyst to the mood dropping.
All England need to do in Birmingham is hold it together. Go through the motions and play the game into a draw. Don’t overbowl Freddie. Recognise that your team is full of feckless midgies and move on. I mean, Stuart Broad and Graham Onions – since when were they international bowlers? In fact, when did Jimmy Anderson become our cutting edge? He’s pants.
Anyway, we must stick to tried and tested English strategy: Just hold it together until the rain comes, chaps…
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Twitter Twat Twotted
Phil Hughes. Oh you plonker. Young. Naïve. But ultimately twit.
The Australian “batsman” caused panic this morning when he brazenly leaked his forthcoming dropping from the team. He did so via the modern’s opiate of the people, twitter:
Disappointed not to be on the field with the lads today, will be supporting the guys, it's a BIG test match 4 us. Thanks 4 all the support!
The ever illuminating BBC commentary responded thus:
Is this the first time that a team line-up has been revealed via Twitter?
NB George continued to hit the brandy hard for the three days before the wedding. On the morning of the ceremony, he was found face-down asleep by the fire in his private quarters. We've all been there.
They were of course alluding to George IV’s reacting to meeting his future wife.
Twittering, much like mobile phones and blogging, I fear is something I shall postpone my participation until it makes me staggeringly unsociable to do so. But, Hughes’ previous tweets do provide some interest.
11:37 PM Jul 19th from web
Been up all night fixing clarkeys bat, ironing hads [??] shirt, come on lads!!!!!
Proof that sycophancy gets you nowhere.
10:15 PM Jul 18th from web
Need to dig deep today.
Australia were fortunate that the young opener didn’t embark on his hole excavation until he was expunged from the team.
11:10 PM Jul 8th from mobile web
BTW, I think its fair to say its 'game on' in the 2009 Ashes!!!!!
Perhaps a future career in the media awaits? With that manner exclamation marks, surely Mark Nicholas’ role is under threat?
The Australian “batsman” caused panic this morning when he brazenly leaked his forthcoming dropping from the team. He did so via the modern’s opiate of the people, twitter:
Disappointed not to be on the field with the lads today, will be supporting the guys, it's a BIG test match 4 us. Thanks 4 all the support!
The ever illuminating BBC commentary responded thus:
Is this the first time that a team line-up has been revealed via Twitter?
NB George continued to hit the brandy hard for the three days before the wedding. On the morning of the ceremony, he was found face-down asleep by the fire in his private quarters. We've all been there.
They were of course alluding to George IV’s reacting to meeting his future wife.
Twittering, much like mobile phones and blogging, I fear is something I shall postpone my participation until it makes me staggeringly unsociable to do so. But, Hughes’ previous tweets do provide some interest.
11:37 PM Jul 19th from web
Been up all night fixing clarkeys bat, ironing hads [??] shirt, come on lads!!!!!
Proof that sycophancy gets you nowhere.
10:15 PM Jul 18th from web
Need to dig deep today.
Australia were fortunate that the young opener didn’t embark on his hole excavation until he was expunged from the team.
11:10 PM Jul 8th from mobile web
BTW, I think its fair to say its 'game on' in the 2009 Ashes!!!!!
Perhaps a future career in the media awaits? With that manner exclamation marks, surely Mark Nicholas’ role is under threat?
Rest Freddie?
The battle of the limping wounded will be chiefly decided by whose bags of deformed crocks will fall to pieces first.
With Brett Lee’s gammy side and Mitchell Johnson’s sideways sense of gravity, the Australian cause looked damned by the misfortune that traditionally blighted England campaigns.
But now, with the breaking down of Kevin Pietersen and the public disintegration of the Colossus of Preston, England are fighting fire with fire.
There is a note of desperation in the England camp, with their star batsman felled, they know that there chances are shot if Andrew Flintoff topples also. Here’s the latest unbelievable revelations from the BBC:
“The 31-year-old has been sleeping with a special 'Game Ready' compression wrap - designed from NASA spacesuit technology - around his troublesome knee, which helps to remove fluid and reduce inflammation.”
Everyone knows that he’s not well. But we also know that we need him, and it doesn’t matter if he exacerbates the problem because we won’t be using him in the future anyway. So Flintoff being permanently maimed for life is a little worry that the ECB’s carpet bagger doctor can forget.
Nevertheless, the forecast looks grim. By the current reading, it looks as though up to three days will be washed out. A result looks unlikely.
So, England’s worse case scenario is the Aussies batting for long periods, wearing down what little cartilage remains in Flintoff’s wasting joints, forcing him to miss the important forth game.
Why not rest old Freddie’s legs for another week?
England’s outfit is a one-trick pony now. We may as well acknowledge it. It’s the cricketing equivalent of giving the ball to Jonny Wilkinson.
With Brett Lee’s gammy side and Mitchell Johnson’s sideways sense of gravity, the Australian cause looked damned by the misfortune that traditionally blighted England campaigns.
But now, with the breaking down of Kevin Pietersen and the public disintegration of the Colossus of Preston, England are fighting fire with fire.
There is a note of desperation in the England camp, with their star batsman felled, they know that there chances are shot if Andrew Flintoff topples also. Here’s the latest unbelievable revelations from the BBC:
“The 31-year-old has been sleeping with a special 'Game Ready' compression wrap - designed from NASA spacesuit technology - around his troublesome knee, which helps to remove fluid and reduce inflammation.”
Everyone knows that he’s not well. But we also know that we need him, and it doesn’t matter if he exacerbates the problem because we won’t be using him in the future anyway. So Flintoff being permanently maimed for life is a little worry that the ECB’s carpet bagger doctor can forget.
Nevertheless, the forecast looks grim. By the current reading, it looks as though up to three days will be washed out. A result looks unlikely.
So, England’s worse case scenario is the Aussies batting for long periods, wearing down what little cartilage remains in Flintoff’s wasting joints, forcing him to miss the important forth game.
Why not rest old Freddie’s legs for another week?
England’s outfit is a one-trick pony now. We may as well acknowledge it. It’s the cricketing equivalent of giving the ball to Jonny Wilkinson.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Ian Bell: will the mouse roar?
I doubt it.
Ian Bell has been various described as the “most talented batsman in the country”, “Atherton-esque” and “complete shit”. And his test match record raised more questions than Aunties.
The general consensus in the mono-glot press is that Bell only does well on milkruns. Much has been made of his centuries at six – all coming when more responsible players grafted 100s above him.
This may be right, and I have generally shared the view that Ian Bell looks most at home when he is at home.
The problem is that there really isn’t anyone of the same authority in the English game who can replace Kevin Pietersen. Bell’s extended and underperforming run at three crowded out any other player, and blocked the emergence of potential county stars. Where would we be had Ravi Bopara been giving a long run a year ago?
But we are where we are, and there is, at this moment, quite honestly no alternative to the rat-faced bimbo.
At the moment, the line-up is looking decidedly Atherton-esque alright. Strauss, Cook, Bopara, Bell, Paul Collingwood, and Pratty Prior. It’s a wonder that they didn’t bring John Crawley and Simon Jones out of retirement (and/or death).
Although, Australia’s attack also finds itself competing against England’s former stars. Could Peter Siddle out-bowl Gavin Hamilton? Could Mitchell Johnson out-long-hop Chris Schofield?
Such questions might give England’s tart at number four new hope.
Ian Bell has been various described as the “most talented batsman in the country”, “Atherton-esque” and “complete shit”. And his test match record raised more questions than Aunties.
The general consensus in the mono-glot press is that Bell only does well on milkruns. Much has been made of his centuries at six – all coming when more responsible players grafted 100s above him.
This may be right, and I have generally shared the view that Ian Bell looks most at home when he is at home.
The problem is that there really isn’t anyone of the same authority in the English game who can replace Kevin Pietersen. Bell’s extended and underperforming run at three crowded out any other player, and blocked the emergence of potential county stars. Where would we be had Ravi Bopara been giving a long run a year ago?
But we are where we are, and there is, at this moment, quite honestly no alternative to the rat-faced bimbo.
At the moment, the line-up is looking decidedly Atherton-esque alright. Strauss, Cook, Bopara, Bell, Paul Collingwood, and Pratty Prior. It’s a wonder that they didn’t bring John Crawley and Simon Jones out of retirement (and/or death).
Although, Australia’s attack also finds itself competing against England’s former stars. Could Peter Siddle out-bowl Gavin Hamilton? Could Mitchell Johnson out-long-hop Chris Schofield?
Such questions might give England’s tart at number four new hope.
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