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Congratulations to the English and South African XI that beat Australia to reclaim the Ashes. The way they won that toss was simply spectacular. Now all that remains is for Freddie to go on a six week binge, Queen Liz to go a bit mental and award all the players a newly established honour called the Super-Dooper-Knighthood where you’re allowed to walk your flock of sheep over Elton John’s face because he’s only a regular Sir and through the centre of London at peak times [without paying the congestion charge]. It was quite simply the most thrilling Test series between the 4th best team in the world and the 5th best team in the world that I’ve ever seen, but they’ll only surrender the urn meekly the next time they visit Australia.
In a very rare example of an England captain leading by example, Andrew Strauss earned the accolade of man of the series for his runs throughout the series but also his inspired decision to bring the tailenders a new pair of gloves and drink every couple of balls towards the end of the 1st Test. Ravi Bopara got the nod as Australia’s best player.
I once claimed a five-for playing for my cartoon school team. It was the worst five-for ever. It involved putting our two best fielders deep in the cartoon leg side and me throwing slow full tosses on leg stump which the opposition obligingly spooned up for easy catches. Even that involved a scheme, which I’m not sure was evident in Stuart Broad’s ridiculously flattering 1st innings haul. Adding just the one wicket in the second innings was enough to earn him the man of the match award. “It’s the greatest moment of my career since Mmmbop,” he said [I'm not sure which one he is, but he looks like at least two of team].
Walking The Tightrope Of Decency Football Bit
West Ham defender, Calum Davenport stabbed in both legs. Hmmm … sensitive subject. Probably shouldn’t joke about it.
Wow, I’m really picking the sensitive subjects this morning. The Serie A season kicked off over the weekend. It’s all the usual stuff - some team counter-attacked better than another team to win narrowly and other teams didn’t bothering attacking at all so just settled for a draw. The real news is that Abdelkader Ghezzal of Siena says he plans to reconcile the conflicting requirements of being both a practicing Muslim and a professional footballer during the month of Ramadan by … er … not really being a practicing Muslim. Tune into tomorrow as I launch Open Allah Hours – a hilarious cartoon about the prophet Mohammed running a cornershop in Yorkshire.
Ask the Barcelona players when they knew they were going to win the Champions League and they’ll no doubt tell you it was a couple of years ago after an unconvincing home win over Wolves. Ditto Man Utd, Milan, Liverpool and almost certainly the Real Madrid team of the 1950s. That’s the non-existent evidence that Kirk Bradley has used in deciding that Man City will win the Champions League of 2011 and beating the rush for tattoos by some two years/an infinite amount of time.
The end is in sight for a transfer saga so tedious that I deem a story about some Muslim player from Siena to be more important than it. Checking ebay for a new penalty-taker is surely the first port of call for David Moyes.
Right, I can’t keep it in:
I know money is tight at West Ham, but they’ve taken trimming the wage bill to extreme lengths. Yes, I went there.
Other News That Deserves To Be At The Bottom
The US win the Solheim Cup. No one cares.
Imagine you needed a new set of tyres. Imagine now that you rang your local garage, asked if they had them in stock and they told you they did and you could call in whenever you wanted to have them fitted. You go in expecting to have the number tyres put on, but you’re told they’re not ready and you should come back some other time. How would you describe the experience? Dramatic? No. Thrilling? No. A pain in the arse? Without doubt. Possibly highlighting were it’s all gone tits up, this apparently qualifies as thrilling in F1. That’s what happened to Lewis Hamilton to help Rubens Barrichello prove that he is in fact the best driver at Brawn – not Poshboy.
Under the instruction of the Teacher, Silas keeps his cool under pressure to stop Robert Langdon and Sophie Neveu finding the Holy Grail at the Dutch Vinci Code Open.
Lance Armstrong pulls out of the final stage of the Tour De Ireland, but finds time to take a picture of the beautiful Dublin sunset. By beautiful I take it he means rare. Lance’s amateur photography is ok, but his legions of brown-nosers seem to be treating it like it’s a Monet or something. If Monet had a camera phone.
Something from the World Athletics Championships other than Usain Bolt and gender tests. Brought to you by some guy holding his camera phone up to the TV, here is When 400m Hurdles Celebrations Go Wrong. I think I see some testicle.
A completely unbiased and impartial Lawrence Dallaglio says Harlequins deserved to be kicked out of the Heineken for the fake blood thing. Dallaglio, who played for Wasps for 18 years, famously never did anything wrong or remotely dubious in the course of his career. Oh, in completely unrelated news, Harlequins getting kicked out would allow Wasps to take an undeserved place in European rugby’s top club competition.
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