Australia loses The Ashes

 

 

 

The second-biggest story in world sport in 2005 (after the Mega Showdown) has, of course, been Australia losing the Ashes. This event has received blanket coverage in the lesser sporting media and in living rooms and pubs throughout Australia, so it behoves footballinvective.com to at least contribute its two cents worth. Accordingly, footballinvective.com commissioned its English correspondent, Darren from London, to report on the greatest tragedy to afflict world cricket since the two can limit was first introduced. After a requisite period of mourning, the gutsy Aussie expat sent back this fiery, no-nonsense invective from the Mother Country:

 

Even after a couple of weeks I am still finding words very difficult to put in order so I have a few rambling thoughts I'd like to share with you. I now know how they must have felt when they set fire to a couple  of bails and created the Ashes legend.

 

I feel like gathering a lot of  Englishmen, a healthy portion of South Africans and a few upper and middle order Australian batsmen together with Buchanan and his lap top and setting  all of the weak pricks alight. Their ashes could form the base for my rose garden for all I care.

 

At the very least, this Christmas day when the pasty, physically inferior milk bottles go down to Bondi and in their hundreds scream for help in the thumping 1 foot swell, I'd suggest it wouldn't be a bad thing to let them drown.

 

And isn't it fantastic to see Matty (dropped the bundle all series) Hayden smiling again??

 

Like we need to see another f*cking Australian making every effort to win the smile-athon that has become this Ashes series. At least Brett was still trying to cause grievous bodily brain damage to that smiling idiot Hoggard  in the dying hours.

 

I respect a team that wins well and in honour of that spirit I reluctantly watched the presentation of the urn (in all places a Walkabout bar).

 

Imagine my horror when Mark Nicholas in his best Richie Benaud impersonation tries to get a feeling from the English  players:

• Cue Strauss – oops, sorry South African

• Next – Pieterson. Same accent again. F*ck, does anyone here even know the words to  "Hope and Glory"?

• The coach? Bugger - his Transvaal kaffa-hating tone is so bad he is actually difficult to understand. The bowling coach? He might be interesting to hear from, except that, you guessed it, he comes from Tasmania. Sh^t.

• The wicket keeper? Good. Had an Aussie twang stronger than Gilly's

By this stage Mark is actually embarrassed enough to ask Errant Jones whether he is English for those wondering at home

 

Course mate" he replies. "Just won the Ashes haven't I?"

 

Can anyone tell me exactly where Murwillumbah is in England? Is it near Johannesburg? or perhaps it is near bagend in the Shire  where Hoggard and his simple brother Sam-wise Gamgee come from.

 

What a crock of sh^t.

 

Having a tattoo of some pussy cats on your arm doesn't make  you English, Kev.

 

And while we are on the issue of presentations, I seem to recall that last time we won over there, Warnie was given a stump and  told if he wanted to celebrate he could shake his bum on a milk crate on the verandah. The FA Cup confetti deluge is a little bit over the top isn't it?

 

I have to say though, that I now have a better understanding of who Kev draws upon for inspiration.......

 

It's Michael Jackson: The  hair. The walk.

 

His questionable ball skills and that f*cking  voice......did anyone else hear him speak??

 

He is certainly biting down very hard on pillows at night is our Kev, little wonder he gets on with Warnie, Shane would pick up the English Roses (drunk slappers) and Kev  would get his slops--being their heartbroken boyfriends and husbands. What a vegemite drilling hoax.

 

At least the King of Porridge "Sir Freddie" has a wife on the terrace, as opposed to Kev who could only muster at this, his greatest hour, a brother who looked right at home with a glass of bubbly talking children issues with players’ wives.

 

I feel gutted and you can shove those "it's good for cricket " platitudes in your ar$se.

 

We lost to a team that had Asley Giles in it as a bowling  weapon – F#ck Me.

 

We sent a bunch of spiritless pricks over on a feel good farewell tour. Well good f^cking bye.

 

I hoped they felt justifiably proud nursing their complimentary orange juice up the pointy end of the plane on their way home.

 

I still feel like I've had a big night on rohypnol (date rape drug) and wandered accidentally into Kevin’s room.

 

I am worried by the fact that given Warnie’s rate of impregnation the English bowling stocks will be sensational for the next 35  years.

 

I guess though, on a positive note, upon my return to Australia:

·        I will at least see more than 2 hours sun each day for the next 6 months, and 23% of the people I work with will not go postal on me and be diagnosed as clinically depressed by the end of winter.

·        I don't have to catch a tube and feel like I am going over the top into "no-mans land" every time.

·        I don't have to microwave my beer before I drink it.

·        I can eat meat without that meat later eating my brain.

·        I don't have to consider Jamie "lovely  jubblies" Oliver a countrymen, then again neither do half the team that now hold the Ashes.

·        I don't have to wear floaties when I swim, and

·        I don't have a national team that has been built on talent stolen from other countries.

 

Ricky may come from Tassie, but at least he is our little inbred.

 

Oh sh%t I just remembered I still live in the god forsaken country!!