Australia's Horror Day

To be honest, I've had a bit of a horror run myself these past few days with real sickness and flu and all. Let me tell you, swine flu has got nothing on the ordinary flu strains going around this winter. This is the first time I've been able to get up for any extended period of time in days to do something productive. But what was I saying? Oh, right:

Shane Watson missed training on Monday because he was "a little stiff". The poor thing, he was just too stiff to spread his butter on his toast, let alone bowl a few overs in the nets. And word has also come in the past few days that he is injured.

We are talking about and international cricketer here. Let the injuries begin. If all goes according to plan Watson and his glorious English counterpart should bow out first. But if you let your mind run away from you a little, consider the possibilities. A freak accident taking out Hughesy and leaving Australia with no other option but to bring Clarke in as opener.

And if Clarke is opening, then everytime he wanders down the pitch to have a chat to Kato, he's in danger of losing his life, or rather, having it beaten out of him by a cricket bat-turned-club. So when Michael Clarke dies and Ricky walks in, The Wing Commander slips a few cricket balls down the skipper's way, and Ponting is too busy wondering why spitting on his gloves isn't giving him extra grip so of course he falls right into the trap and twists his ankle.

At this stage, Hussey walks in and England don't even try to sabotage his efforts, they just bowl at the stumps and Mike is gone for a golden duck. Brad Haddin thinks he can do it but he's Brad Haddin, so he can't do it. Jimmy Anderson sends in a bouncer which takes out Haddin and indeed, one of his eyes too. It is a horrific sight, blood is gushing everywhere, but England just laugh it off.

In this situation, Australia are fucked because Shane Watson is injured and Marcus North came down with another case of gastro, so they had to put Andrew McDonald's name down. They never thought it would eventuate to this, but it has and McDonald is their only real batting hope because Mitch hasn't yet declared himself an all-rounder so technically they only bat down to 7.

Needless to say, having his hair enclosed in a helmet with only his eyes for company was never a good idea, and Andrew is blinded by his own hair as the marvellous red colour is reflected around the inside of his helmet in a freak act of nature. He is also out injured.

Then Mitch walks in. He thinks he can bat, he knows he can bat, but he slips on some Haddin blood that is flooding the pitch because nobody bothered to remove Brad's body from the field and he's gushing torrents of blood from his eye socket. As Mitch slips on the blood, his arm flails and hits the stumps. Hit wicket. He walks off dejected because he has failed his country, the sorry bastard.

Hauritz walks in after Brett Lee dies of shock after hearing his own singing voice while listening to his song to motivate himself before the game. And just as England are congratulating themselves on the best victory ever, having injured half the Australian team and bowled them out in half a day for the lowest Test innings score ever, you suckers realise that I've been misleading you all along. Because at the other end of the pitch is Simon Katich, and Simon Katich is currently one pissed off motherfucker. He wants blood, preferably of the English variety, having swum in Haddin's blood for a good hour or so.

In a miraculous turnaround Australia rally, with Katich and Hauritz stacking on the runs with apparent ease. A force field has sprung around Hauritz and despite his mediocre spin bowling skills, he is suddenly the second best batsman on the pitch, after only Kato. Nothing can hit them and you are sitting here thinking, "Amy, you bitch. What a set-up. What a goddamn set-up, I hope you die." Well, I don't. And neither do the heroes of this story.

So in the most unlikely event possible, Hauritz and Katich get the runs in the next hour, working to rectify the damage caused by England's sneaky tactics and hopefully bat for the next 5 sessions. It is a big ask, but that force field is doing the job and Katich is no longer opening the batting, he is lower down where he likes to be and should be, so that's lucky. He has scored his first run when Australia are 7 wickets down and the feeling is great.

Then, in the good old English way, the players stop and they go to lunch. The best kind of sport involves regular meal breaks, including one for tea. Bloodshed has no place in cricket, not when it's time for high tea.

Brad Haddin's blood-soaked body remains on the pitch.

England's Ashes Hopes

Lie in the hands of 16 men among whom there is no MPV or Harmison. Not that we expected the former to play.

Their training squad for the pre-Ashes camp comes as no surprise. Capitalising on their spin wickets, England have included 3 spinners in the squad, which means Adil Rashid gets his go, and what's more, Ian Bell's also in for kicks. Note Bell has nothing to do with good spin wickets.

Will he get a game? I doubt it, or at least I wouldn't give him a game myself. He can carry drinks for all it's worth.

And will KP be fit for the start of the Ashes? He thinks not. Then there's also Freddie who's also coming off an injury, but by now England need to have learnt to compensate for him. I give him two matches tops before he does another muscle/limb/body part in.

The squad: 1. Andrew Strauss (capt), 2. James Anderson, 3. Ian Bell, 4. Ravi Bopara, 5. Tim Bresnan, 6. Stuart Broad, 7. Paul Collingwood, 8. Alastair Cook, 9. Andrew Flintoff, 10. Graham Onions, 11. Monty Panesar, 12. Kevin Pietersen, 13. Matt Prior, 14. Adil Rashid, 15. Ryan Sidebottom, 16. Graeme Swann

Another important question is WILL THEY WIN THE ASHES? We will find out in due course. I am, of course, hoping they don't but even if I were a closet England supporter, I'd be hunted down and killed by manic fans here. I cannot take that risk just to support a bunch of inbreds... Oi!

Just look at your royal family for proof.

The Other Final

It just dawned on me that I hadn't said anything about the women's final to be held today which I actually hold a large interest in. New Zealand versus England, both great teams, very in-form and ready to KICK ASS.

Yes?

Yes, they are. So who are you going for? England have the services of the rather amazing Claire Taylor, and New Zealand are hopping around with Amy S. the cricketer. It's obvious who I'm going for because it would be criminal to ditch my own people. Or person. Anyway, the Kiwi thing also comes into effect so I am rendered incapable of supporting anyone but them, but all the best to England too because they're smashing.

And yes, I did just say 'smashing'.

Go the Kiwis, go the Poms also, and go WOMEN'S CRICKET. It's bloody brilliant to watch. Are you with me? Yeah? Yeah? Yeah.

Grinding men to a pulp.

The Stanford Redemption

Morgan Freeman would not be proud of what I have just done. Which is why I will make this short and sharp and FAST because the material is hysterical.

Allen Stanford (or "Sir" Allen Stanford as you folks who respect him in the slightest like to say) has been arrested in the US after he surrendered, the silly bugger. All that fraud and he thought he'd get away. Apparently the surrender went down a little something like this:

He had surrendered "to some FBI agents who were hiding out in black SUVs outside the residence where he was staying in Virginia". He walked out and asked if they had a warrant. Stanford told the agents to arrest him if they had a warrant, but if they did not have a warrant, he would go back to Houston to turn himself in.

A Ponzi scheme? "Nah," he says. Then a few moments later, "Okay, yes, maybe."

Allen Stanford, you will live on in the hearts of the ridiculous. The cricketing world always loved your style. And I will refrain from making a Matt Prior-related joke here, really I will. Because I have remarkable self-restraint and I BET MATTY'S WIFE ISN'T ALL TOO HAPPY ABOUT THIS.

Okay. I couldn't stop myself, so sue me.

The stickiest wicket of all.

The Real Wizard

Harry Potter is at the World T20 and not in the form of Daniel Vettori.

It is, of course, Daniel Radcliffe. Another Dan, another man. Or slightly post-pubescent boy.

Don't allow yourself to be tricked by his ways. The question is, is he really enjoying it? Or is his unfortunate facial structure preventing him from doing so?

This also gives England the handy excuse that the real reason they bowed out of the tournament was because an evil sorcerer had been magicking Stuart Broad's brain into mush and invading Colly's mind with unimaginative field placements.

Luke Wright the hobbit, ROFL the elf

And ROFL is an elf. An evil elf, to be precise, as detailed in this previous post of mine.

Now you have the backstory, Boncam has been getting creative photoshopping his countryman into an elf costume, and turning Luke Wright into a hobbit. It is evil, not just because ROFL is really just evil, but also because Wright himself is around the 1.8m mark and therefore not a hobbit.

But Boncam persists, and even though he did a very South African thing of ignoring height, it is still a rather awesome result. If I hadn't told you, you would be none the wiser as to the cunning brain that went into this:

See what he did there.

And then there's ROFL, the evil elf I can't help but love in all his angry spinning glory and shut-eyed swinging at balls. Cricket balls, that is.

Nice elf.

By the way, this post in no way warrants a dozen Anonymous people commenting with a "do Graeme Smith up as a tranny" type comment. It's not on, friends. This is a post about Luke Wright and ROFL, not Graeme Smith.

I can't hear you

I was going to post properly, but I'm afraid that's just not on today. Work, etc.

But for those of you who were unfortunate enough to see die AB receiving the MoM award in the India match, I have good news. It didn't actually happen. It was all a FIGMENT OF YOUR IMAGINATION.

I'm telling the truth because someone has to. And I'd never lie to you about something regarding die AB, would I? No, I didn't think so. There was a big mix-up, they actually meant A[l]B[ie] is the man of the match. Pretty good stuff for 8 runs and a shit over in the bowling, but I think we can safely say he deserved it more than anyone else did.

And New Zealand, oh New Zealand. You should have lost that one, but I didn't want you to. I really didn't.

Australia are pretending the tournament didn't happen and they're just focusing on the Ashes.

Apologies for the short post, but I am on twitter for exactly this reason. I'm not dead, just terribly busy and believe me, I'd prefer that I weren't but such is life. As it turns out, I offer amazing insights on twitter that NOBODY ELSE WILL EVER KNOW. Yes. Really.

England losing and other interesting stuff

About time, really. It's not like they were going to get much further in the tournament. It was already rather shocking they'd gotten this far. There isn't really much to say that others haven't said, except HAHAHAHAHA. Tossers.

In other news, New Zealand are afraid and I am afraid for them. The West Indies are through to the semis. Ireland have lost, just as they would. And India are blaming the IPL for their "fatigue", revealing the true purpose of the IPL, i.e. to provide a handy excuse for losing matches in the few months following it.

But more importantly, Albie Morkel is blogging (thanks to Boncam for the link). The sly devil can't help talking about his wicket maiden for an unhealthy period of time. It's okay, nobody minds. Why? Because he is too fucking awesome for you, mate. He also puts in some Aussie slang in a subtle acknowledgement that he reads my blog:

Also, he (ROFL) has a serious ‘bulldog’ factor. In Australia they say a sportsman like him has ‘mongrel’ in him.

Go you. Amongst other things, he details how he goes for a run through Hyde Park at night, baying at the full moon, to put that "country" mind at ease. Country? More like werewolf, Albie.

The warm-up week was a great success, the practise facilities have been excellent and the hotel is a very popular spot with the boys being right in the centre of London but also next to Hyde Park so the ‘country’ boys amongst us don’t feel too cramped!

Good stuff. Albie has also injured Jacques Kallis, in a show of brotherly affection, in order to get Morne a game:

But if there is an injury, he is raring to go.

The things he does for Morne.

In Die AB Watch, he's been going to the movies with some team mates to watch 'The Hangover'. Except I think he was too shocked by the sex jokes that he resorted to quoting the introduction of a newspaper review of the movie:

A few of the guys went to play golf after the journey yesterday, but I joined the group that went to watch a film called ‘The Hangover’, a fun comedy set in Las Vegas about three groomsmen who lose their soon-to-be married friend and then try to find him again.

Either that, or he's being sponsored by Warner Bros.

Albie gobbles up KP

Gobble gobble. You'd think the same too if you saw the following:

He was just really happy is all. That's how 28 year olds look when they're happy, like the innocent bliss you feel when you don't know that later in the day you won't get a chance to bat because a fat fucker hogs the limelight. That same man then goes on to be MoM when clearly it should have been Albie getting it, JUST BECAUSE.

If I had to nominate the best South African bowler in the England match, it would be tough. Because there was no clear winner, they were all great. Oh fuck it, one of them was clearly the best.

Have a guess. Go on, guess.

If you thought Wayne Parnell, get the fuck off this blog.

I'm talking about the REAL star whose efforts went unnoticed, even though he bloody well bowled the best he ever has in his life. Yes, it was Albie Morkel the 28 year old. He went for no runs at all in his spell, his extremely long, hard fought spell. The one over spell which took concentration far beyond that which any other all-rounder in the world possesses. It wasn't just a maiden, it was a wicket maiden, as Albie ran down the pitch and gobbled up KP with his large mouth.

I'm sure if Albie had bowled more overs, he would have repeated exactly the same thing. That would silence all his critics.

England were... well, they were England. I'm sorry for them, I really am.

The first mention of DLF Maximums in the World T20

It really happened, and the man to do it was none other than the evil die AB. I'm not taking into account the nights I spent shouting "Hit a DLF Maximum you bloody arsehole" at the television because that was just the awe-inspiring ability of Lalit Modi to win me over with commercialism.

I didn't, really. I'd kill myself before I started calling a six a DLF Maximum and even then, there's a catch involved with that. Can you guess what it is? I'll tell you what it is. The catch is that I'd already be dead so I wouldn't have to DLF anything from my grave.

Funny joke, Amy, you say. I agree wholeheartedly.

I'm deliberately not talking about the matches won or lost in the tournament so far because it is of little importance in the grand scale of things. Even falafels are more important than Ireland setting themselves up as everyone's bitch, and I don't particularly care about falafels.

What was I saying? Right, it's die AB deciding to drag poor Albie's name through mud and link him to the horror that was DLF Maximums:

After the three-hour coach ride up the M1 motorway from London, we gathered at the hotel and recognised Albie Morkel’s birthday. He is now 28 years old, and let’s hope he celebrates a day late with one of his trademark bursts of strokeplay, boundaries and DLF maximums.

Oh, what? What is that? Seriously, WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? It's die AB bringing the IPL to its home-schooled cousin, the ICC World T20. And what's more, he's suggesting that Albie Morkel would commit the atrocious act of hitting a DLF Maximum and thus downgrade his own integrity while AB remains the good cricketer who only hit boundaries and sixes.

Putting the DLF Maximums aside, yes, I do hope Albie tries to knock Stuart Broad's bobblehead off. That would mean another player would be out injured, or in Broady's case, out headless. It appears any player with half a brain has decided this World T20 is not worth it so why not say "fuck it" and get yourself injured in order to avoid playing. Whether it be your groin or your Achilles tendon, everything's looking good for these smart cricketers. Judging by this rule, though, New Zealand are therefore the smartest team of all, so the accuracy of such claims needs to be revised.

In other news, this is the best headline ever. Becuase John Buchanan is so disgustingly evil that it hurts to look at him. And he really is going to work with the enemy. For everyone who thinks this is Buchanan spying on England for the Aussies, no it fucking isn't. It just isn't. Will you look at the slimy bastard? While England smugly find scraps of paper which just happen to be lying on the dressing room floor with Australia's Ashes secrets written on them, the Aussies have responded in the only way they possibly can, and that is to reject the English in any way possible. In this way, Derbyshire have "been successfully humiliated", according to an exclusive secret interview with Ricky Ponting. It's typical Ponting, mistaking a charitable offer from locals doing their small bit to save face for Australia in the face of their embarrassing defeat in the World T20 as a desperate attempt to absorb some of Australia's "glorious charisma" through osmosis during a one day match. Instead, Ponting hopes to do shit all in Leicester before the Ashes.

Today's matches:
New Zealand over Ireland.
England over AB.
Albie over England.
England over Jacques Kallis.
ROFL over England.

And here's to hoping, everyone's favourite Kiwi gets better. Actually, that all of them get better.
As a side note, I did something very evil in this post and I don't apologise for it at all as I continue in my production of anti-AB propaganda.

The Secret to Stuart Broad's Success

Any teams stupid enough to fear the might of his bowling will be thrilled to discover just what caused Broady to play so well all of a sudden against Pakistan.

I invite you to take a moment to guess.

Appropriate responses would include a tough work-out session in the nets, bowling at a brick wall non-stop for 7 hours a day since the loss to the Netherlands, a stern talking to by coach or by the captain.

Slightly less appropriate but still effective responses include being offered a pay rise in return for doing well in this match, daddy organising a visit from a few escorts (oh yes, escorts, they're top class these Broad boys), having his head bashed in by a rampant Andre Nel working for the ECB, or even having people finally accept that yes, Broady is a man. Just look at those manly golden locks.

Alright, you done? Good, because you should be. Because the secret to Stuart Broad's success is... Maccas. No, that is not some sort of dig at a night out with Andrew McDonald, I'm talking real food here. Says Colly when asked about Stuart's turnaround:

"I just took him for a burger."

Yes, he took him for a burger. Doesn't take much to please the young Broad, does it? If you doubt my claims he is a 9 year old, I hope this proves you wrong.

Ten bucks says it was a Happy Meal.

How KP saved England

Boy, they sure were glad to have him back. Well, him and Dimi and Graeme Swann. But KP's 58 off 38 balls gave them a shitload of confidence, and Adil Rashid coming on later also did a good job of containing runs.

Funnily enough, Stuart Broad didn't have all that bad of a match. In fact, I'd go so far as to say he had a good one. 3 wickets, lowest economy rate of England's bowlers, this:

I think he's pretty pleased with himself.

England are through to the Super Eights based on their NRR. The breathe a collective sigh of relief because they were so damn close to not making it that this escape from embarrassment will be more than well received. It was really a matter of one match that would have decided their fate. Nice compact format, this World T20.

There's a pretty funny photo of KP's dismissal:

Good one, Ajmal.

Netherlands think they played "okay"

I'll bet even Collingwood gave them higher praise than that.

Determined not to rub the victory into England's faces, Netherlands captain Jeroen Smits tells reporters:

"We played okay. Batting wise we played up to our capabilities but fielding wise and bowling wise there is still room for improvement."

If I were captain of the Dutch side at the moment, I would just... you have no idea what I would be saying. England would be cringing more than ever. But Smits refrains. Go the Netherlands.

Now they're looking at qualifying for the Super Eights, and if possible, the semifinals. Awesome, you say? It is indeed.

Pakistan are going to be facing two teams determined not to lose to them. England, because if they were out of the tournament within 3 days it would be the greatest embarrassment ever suffered since the Stanford debacle, and the Netherlands, because they've taken time off work without pay, beaten the hosts, and now they bloody well want to get as far as possible in this tournament.

"We were only joking"

"Can't you take a bit of a joke, everyone?" asks Collingwood at the press conference after the shock loss to the Netherlands.

"We were just having a laugh," Broad tells reporters. "Jimmy thought it'd be funny to give the Dutch fellows a win and take it from there."

"Graeme and Kevin were at home blowing up party balloons to celebrate the planned loss to the Netherlands," Colly continues. "Straussy was over too. They were watching the match on telly and having a bit of a laugh."

"That expression on my face?" Stuart is surprised. "Oh, at the end? Which one was it again?" The reporters oblige him.

"Oh, that," Broad says as he views the photograph. "Completely planned."

Beside him, Collingwood nods. "Completely planned. Bring on the Pakistani boys, I say."

Stuart Broad tells the best joke ever heard to mankind

It's true, he does. In an interview with the Guardian, Stuart Broad gets his funny on. Take this hilarious joke for instance:

What's the name of the fastest cake?
Too late, it's scone.

Did you laugh? I did. I spent a good ten minutes laughing at the one. Good one, Broady! He's a riot, that boy.

He also likes bananas and has a rather creepy banana fetish, the details of which I won't go into. It is too disturbing.

Broad still has some genius left in him. He tries claiming he has hit puberty, but nobody believes him of course. Then comes the biggest shock. Not only is he physically doomed to be trapped in the body of a 9 year old, but he is also on a similar mental platform as a 9 year old:

What is the best sledge ever aimed at you?
I can never really explain what is going on when I'm getting sledged. So, I end up just nodding and smiling, which seems to annoy them more.

Jesus, no use trying to sledge the boy, it'll just go completely over the top of his head. To be honest, sometimes you can sympathise with him. Dale Steyn, who is not very well known for his sledging abilities, has had a crack at sending some comments down Broad's way. Here is the result, as dictated by Stuart:

Do you play dumb or does it come naturally? I think.... I mean, Dale Steyn just called me Baywatch for the whole series when we played against them [South Africa]. I didn't really know what he meant, it certainly wasn't for my strapping figure.

Hahahahaha, and with that, my friends, I leave you, although not to do anything particularly interesting. Canberra is a pretty boring place at night, I'm afraid. I know the locals like its... smallness, but damn, I wouldn't want to live here my whole life. It's good for occasional visits. Fingers crossed I don't have to start living here.

Now go watch some cricket.

Why Ravi Wants To Kill KP

You would too, if you were him.

I wonder if every time KP does that he realises just how much the other person wants to bash his head in.

In the words of England's best Queen, we are not amused. Or at least, Ravi Bopara isn't.

Sledging Siddle

Cricinfo have a piece up in which we're treated to the creativity of South African fans in their taunting of Siddle. I hope you're expecting something great, because it sure is:

"Siddle's a wanker" became a popular chant among the South African fans during this year's series.

There you go. Bloody hell, if I were a saffa, I'd be pretty freaking embarrassed by those efforts. It might even be worse than Aussie fans and the Glenn McGrath song, although that was slightly awesome, I'll admit.

But "Siddle's a wanker" is bereft of any real knife-plunging qualities, not that fans are usually capable of coming up with anything good anyway. However, there have been a few good sledges from crowds in past years. If I were Sidds, I would laugh in the faces of these saffas.

In Andrew McDonald news, he tells us he isn't motivated by Bob Willis' Ronald McDonald comparisons in the papers. Gee, I wonder why.

I also can't help noticing that a certain fake person has begun blogging again. While I don't particularly have any real interest in it at all, I just thought I'd link to an interview with the Fake IPL Player which I believed to be fake itself. As it turns out, the interview is actually real. Yeah. I know. He's struggling to come to terms with being old news, the poor thing.

"This is not a tennis ball. These things will crack skulls."

I am amused. Last I heard sometime in 07/08, there was going to be a Bollywood movie released with some Aussie cricketers playing a cameo role in it, namely Brett Lee.

But I had no idea the movie had been released when I stumbled across this trailer for the movie. It's so great I have no words for it:



That's alright but even better than it is this excerpt (?) from the movie. I don't really know where it fits in, but it appears to be a song from the movie in which the captains of pretty much every cricketing nation of the world talk about just how great the main character of the film (a young Indian cricketer) is and how they just can't find a way to break his defences. Tony Greig also gets a few words in:



It's just really bloody hilarious.

KP tries to kill a 15 year old kid

I think it's safe to say I'm not the only person who laughed when they read this.

I feel sorry for the kid, of course, but that's just classic. And note KP leaving the kid a signed bat as some sort of compensation. Amusing beyond belief.

Psychoanalysis of Alastair Cook's Head

This is, of course, a very thoughtful post based entirely in science. And of course, this is not actually psychoanalysis. That would be something else entirely. Instead, I will be discussing the left brain right brain features of Alastair Cook's HEAD. A science in its own right. Almost.

Before we begin, will someone tell Cook to stop it. He's making me cry:


Now that we're done with that horror, I'd like to say that's all you're going to see of Alastair's head, but unfortunately, that is not the case. This post is all about his head.

There is a theory amongst psychologists that the human face displays more than one emotion at a time. If you cut their face in half and reflect each half onto itself to make two separate images of the face, apparently you can see the left brain emotions and facial expressions of the person being studied, and of course, the right brain facial expressions in the other image.

Basically, I'm just going to chop a face in half and make mirror images of each half. No psychobabble bullshit for me.

So seeing as Cook's face is so wonderfully asymmetrical in that above photo, and so very creepy, why not try it out on his face?

Face 1: Right side of Cook's face (controlled by the left brain)

Looks normal enough, even better than the actual Alastair Cook. But then again, this is the left brain, which is supposed to be the more logical, rational side of the brain. It's supposed to be more reserved, not like the crazy as fuck right brain which is all about creativity and strong feelings. If you're scared, you sure as hell should be. If you're not scared, you sure as hell should be. Because:

Face 2: Left side of Cook's face (controlled by right brain)

Yes. "Fuck" is right. "Fuck" accompanied by a long scream is the right response to have.

Excuse me, but I may be traumatised for life.