Border Threatens Unlikely Comeback To Test Cricket

Allan Border has threatened an unlikely comeback to the test arena, with the former captain simply fed up with Australia’s top-order batting failures.

An angry Border told The Public Apology that Australia’s under-performing top-order lacked courage and commitment, adding that “if these fucking poofs won’t get the runs, then I will!”

“I scored 11,174 test runs in my career and not one of them came without a heavy serving of blood, sweat and tears. But these blokes come out and piece together an aesthetically pleasing 20 or 30 then throw their wickets away. They’re soft – fucking soft – I tell you!”

Border said that if granted the opportunity, he’d enjoy showing Australia’s troupe of young, overpaid cricketers what it takes to succeed against the old enemy.

“Fuck yeah!”

“I’m 57-years-old now, but I’ve still got what it takes to beat those bastards. I averaged 56 in 156 test matches – and, Christ, I was facing blokes like Courtney Walsh and Curtly Ambrose at their peak. If they gave me a crack at that Jimmy Anderson, I’d wipe that arrogant smirk off his stupid English face in seconds!”

The current Australian team is lacking spirit, masculinity and sufficient arm hair, according to Border, who said that he’d love to have a one-on-one with “that fairy” Michael Clarke about captaincy.

“This prick throws the ball to Watson because they had a little tiff off the field, but that’s not how you captain a group of men. You should be unyielding as a leader and never submit to your subordinates! Men crave discipline, it’s that simple.”

In his time as captain, Border said he used to openly chastise players for hanging out with their wives and girlfriends on their days off. He lamented Michael Clarke’s effeminate brand of leadership, advocating a return to the “no wives and girlfriends on tour” policy he championed back in the 1980s.

Women on tour are destroying the joint, Border says

“These blokes can’t wait to get back to the sheds and tee up a shag with their missuses on their iPhones. But sexual frustration is the key to on-field success. Women are destroying the joint!” he said, pointing to to the US army by way of example.

“And one more thing: captaincy isn’t about democracy; it’s not a fucking women’s group out there. It’s about calling a spade a spade and a cunt a cunt. And all I see at the moment out there is 11 overpaid cunts,” Border raged, flecks of spittle flying from his weather-beaten lips.

By Dave Edwards 

Drugs In Sport: Who Isn’t On A Bit Of Gear?

My father came home the other night from a boozy dinner with some mates and regaled me with a reasonably interesting but somewhat spurious conversation he had with some bloke at the table.

This friend of his has had a long and distinguished career in the medical industry and has, he assured my dad, intricate and inside knowledge of what certain supplements and drugs can do to the human body. Thus, he felt equipped to make the following sweeping statement: “All elite athletes are on some form of performance enhancing drug, I guarantee it.”

The comments follow the public shaming of Olympic sprinters Tyson Gay and Asafa Powell, who recently recorded positive drug tests. And this bloke, presumably rinsed after a bottle of Margaret River Cabernet Sauvignon (2005) told my dad that “Usain Bolt will be next, you watch!”

Is it just a matter of time before drug authorities pick up their game and manage to stamp out all forms of doping, or will athletes continue to dodge their way to glory? Must we now take each world record with a pinch of salt, and hold off on the post-race medal ceremony until each still-sweating athlete has emptied their bladder into a vial and waited 1-2 weeks for the results to come in? Will Vincent Chase’s extreme efforts to beat a drug test catch on in the NRL, for example?

ASADA had the “audacity” to wake up Jonathan Thurston at 6am last week – and his freshly born baby, too, mind you – for a random drug test. We were all outraged at this invasion of privacy, but is this what it has come to? Instead of innocent until proven guilty, should we reverse this age-old adage entirely?

As sporting consumers, we’ve been burnt too many times before. We’ve celebrated the achievements of Marion Jones and Lance Armstrong, only to find out that they’d both been on the gear for years, lying their way into the hearts of millions and cashing in on their artificially aided success.

Even today, it has emerged that Australian cyclist Stuart O’Grady took EPO before the 1998 Tour de France, mere days after announcing his retirement to a groundswell of adulation. In his defence, I’m pretty sure every single cyclist from Lance Armstrong down to your uncle who rides to work was on a bit of performance enhancing gear in 1998. I mean, the first, second and third-placed finishers in the ’98 Tour were all found to have been on EPO.

Do we deserve better?

“Rock on, bitches.”

Following a recent ruling in the Senate, ASADA will be able to demand phone records, text messages, documents and medical prescriptions of players and others, regardless of whether those pieces of evidence are self-incriminatory. But besides all the big talk, ASADA has not given a timeframe for when its investigation into a number of NRL players and personnel will be completed. 

Some people say that you should throw the book at drug cheats, others suggest that the book should be thrown out entirely and athletes should be given open slather. Former sprinter Ato Boldon has even called for stimulants to be legalised, which to be honest, would stop all this rubbish about “1-percenters.”

Until there’s a decision one way or the other, there remains a cloud over pretty much every professional sportsman in the country. What’s more, blokes pissed on a bottle of red will continue to shoot their mouths off at dinner parties regarding the ubiquity of drugs in sport – and they might be closer to the truth than we’d like them to be.

By Dave Edwards


The Josh Dugan Saga…

Guest columnist and tortured Canberra Raiders fan Eleanor Kite blames Josh Dugan for her frayed nerves. Rightly so.

Fucking Josh Dugan. Ever since he left the Raiders he’s been a source of renewable energy as far as irritation is concerned.

I didn’t overly mind him going to another club at first. I didn’t want to go down the ‘if we can’t have him no one should’ pathway because it is an ugly way of thinking and one best left for the family court systems and dissatisfied fathers who kill their partners or children and then themselves.

And just quickly while I’m here has Dugan’s stinking shitbag of a spawn been born yet? Because if any stinking shitbag is worthy of commemorative crockery this year surely it is Dugan’s and not, as general frenzy would have us believe, Prince William and his cardboard-cutout-gyro-reticulate-eyed wife’s Royal one?

Now though he’s just getting on my nerves. Everything gets on my nerves of course. Because they’re shot, mainly, but also because everything is fucking annoying, one vile task after another in a vile horizonless tapestry, so much so that my mother has developed a catchphrase out of my neuroses so that every time I say something is getting on my nerves including and often referring specifically to her she just says “you and your nerves”.

Yeah. Me and my nerves.

In any case, I hear he has said some derogatory things about the Raiders. I say ‘hear’ because I have not bothered to ‘read’ these things because I am ‘lazy’. And also because I like to adhere to that great and proud tradition of writing slanderous things about somebody without bothering to avail myself of the information on which I’m largely basing my slander. Yeah, cunts, welcome to the internet.

Whatever it was he said, it’s safe to say he doesn’t seem to have a sophisticated grasp, if any, of the delicate circumstances surrounding him, and really why would he what with moving fairly seamlessly from the Raiders to the Dragons to Origin?

As upward trajectories go it is fine and faultless, but rude post-Raider realities have forced me to concede that what he needed was an injunction, ala Todd Carney, in which to turn a few tight transgressive loops of a downward spiral…

But this didn’t happen. Those stupid photos of him labouring manually on a building site while wearing a pristine white hoodie don’t count and neither do any of the other small indignities he has heaped upon himself recently and now the Dragons play the Raiders this Saturday and I guess as grudge matches go this will be a good one even though there is no justice because were there any justice my personal preference for Dugan’s punishment would surely have been implemented post haste and instead of playing football he would be spending his weekends tonging sausages on a hotplate outside of Bunnings because this far more than football is a test of the deep and involuntary stuff of a man and quite frankly who wouldn’t want to see that?

By Eleanor Kite

Twitter: @QuinnKitten