It?s time for a spanking

By LOUISE RUGENDYKE

I hope the Australian cricket team loses the Ashes.

And not because I am particularly fond of the English, I just can't stand Australia's smugness and win at all costs attitude.

Shifty Ricky and his coterie deserve a good spanking (can I mention Shane Warne just a little bit...) and if not by the English, I hope it's by Zimbabwe and the Flower brothers on their next tour of Australia.

I have barely watched an over of cricket since the Indians were here in 2003/04 (and only then it was Anil Kumble's fine form sauntering down the pitch that had me glued to the television).

Saint Adam Gilchrist aside, the Australian team stalk the field like school-yard bullies.

Brett Lee, when he's not busy carrying the drinks, is one of the worst offenders.

Apart from looking like a white pimp with his gold jewellery sparkling during his run-up, Lee's punishment of the lower end of the opposition's batting order is a classic example.

Fair enough, it's his job to get wickets, but does he need to celebrate like he's saved the world from the opposition's equivalent of Glenn McGrath?

Let's get some dignity into the play boys and then you might deserve some respect.

Proudly English! Bleedin' traitors!!

A British supermarket chain has jumped on board the purported great Australian cricket debacle, by offering free English cricket shirts to any Aussie who can prove they have changed their nationality.

All they have to do is bring in their old Australian passport and their new British one and recite the first verse of God Save the Queen.

However, they fail to mention a few of the silent criteria the traitor will have to pass.

1. A solid belief that Tim Henman has the ability to win Wimbledon.

2. A solid belief that Shane Warne is a spunk (let's face it, no self-respecting Aussie woman would ... alright, enough with the Shane Warne jokes).

Ahhh, the English sporting summer ? those hazy days of June and July, when for a fleeting moment the greater British public manage to delude themselves into believing in another great white hope and that chasing a block of cheese down a hill is a legitimate sport.

But anyway, onto Wimbledon. Left of Field's favourite, Mark Philippoussis, flew briliantly but fleetingly, before crashing in the second round.

I love the Poo. He promises so much, yet delivers so little.

Lleyton Hewitt has been playing solid and abusive tennis, but can anyone explain the presence of ex-Friends star Matthew Perry in his courtside box?

Warne down... two more wishes to go

After last week's tip to Simone Warne about dumping her husband, I almost feel as if I have been given three sporting wishes, genie in a bottle style.

So, two wishes left and what to ask for?

One, that Wallabies coach Eddie Jones drops the 'Wendell Sailor can play rugby union' act. Eddie, the joke has gone on long enough.

And for the second wish, hmmm, I think I'll pocket this one for a sporting emergency.



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