A Viscount Speaks

Poor old Bruce!

What ho, Englishmen!

By jove, chaps, doesn't if feel marvellous to be an Englishman?  We whipped those colonials like dogs!  Or to be more precise and borrow a Corenism (marvellous chap, old Giles, for a Jew-boy!), we whipped them "like mangy, stinking, girly dogs"!

In fact, Coren's piece was so bloody brilliant that I feel like quoting some more:

All Australians are bad losers, which is surprising really, considering how much losing they now do.  

Perhaps they will improve. Perhaps they will become nicer people.

There is no reason why they shouldn’t. It is not an open and shut colonial thing.

New Zealanders are painfully polite and terribly gracious in defeat. And even the South Africans, once a pretty scary bunch, are as quiet as lambs these days.

I suppose it is because they have been chastened by the years of shame over apartheid and are now just desperate to be liked, in a way that Australians (who have done so little to atone for their own racist sins against the country’s aboriginal population) simply are not.

So let’s not feel bad about the drubbing we have dished out to Australia this Christmas. Let’s be glad we have given them the chance to set aside their sporting dreams, to look deep into their hearts, and to think about becoming better people. Much as it is against our British nature to do so, we must gloat. For the more we gloat, the more we can help the Australians to improve themselves.

I only wish I had the sort of job that brought me into contact with lots of Australians I could gloat over. But I’m a bit old to be a barman.

Naturally Giles is a little hard on our colonial friends but goodness, chaps, he's bloody funny nonetheless, what!

Well done, Straussy!  Well done, England!  God Save The Queen!

Yours, etc

Viscount Crouchback

The 3rd Test

What ho, chums!

So the 3rd Ashes Test starts tonight at the ungodly hour of 2 AM.  It is a ridiculous time to be playing a cricket match.  Why on earth can't these colonial johnnies play sport at a proper hour?  The bolshie oiks seem quite determined to assert their independence from the ways of the Mother Country, no matter how ridiculous it makes them seem.

I and all England have been chewing over the bowling situation.  Oakham's Broad is out for the series, so Strauss will have to choose one seamer from Bresnan, Tremlett and Shahzad.  In normal circumstances, one would opt for the chap from the leafy southern shires over the northern prole or the uppity immigrant.  However, fast bowling is slightly unusual in that it favours the type of rough, big arsed, northern character (often from a mining background) who is happy to toil away whilst the rather more pukka batsmen loll around in the field.  It is said, moreover, that Tremlett is a slightly yellow character, so I would be inclined to opt for Bresnan.  He is just the type of beefy specimen we need to get stuck into the Australians.

The colonials, meanwhile, are in complete disarray.  Their hopeless captain, Ponting, confessed this week that his man management is so terrible that he no longer goes near his bowlers for fear of putting them even further off their game.  It was an astonishing admission from a man who is quite patently not officer material.

It seems to me that this Australian outfit lacks brains and breeding.  There are, amazingly enough, a few decent schools in Australia, mostly in eastern Sydney - and the Wallabies, quite sensibly, recruit heavily from these institutions.  The cricketers, for whatever reason, do not.  I am sure that when Mr Sutherland (who is a sensible chap) comes to review Australia's campaign, he will put 2+2 together and demand that every Baggy Green XI should in future field at least one fellow from St Joseph's, one fellow from Scotch College, and so on and so forth. 

It is really asking too much for a group of proles to be thrown into battle without officers to lead the way.  And in Perth this week I expect Mr Strauss (Radley) to ram home yet again just why Englishmen spend £27,000 per annum on their son's public school education.

Yours, etc

Viscount Crouchback

Foreigners are undermining the gentlemanly nature of English rugger

What ho, rugger buggers!

I say, chaps, have you seen this?  I don't think I've ever seen anything like it.  This chappie Venter is not only a Boer but a psychopath - indeed, some might say the two amount to the same thing. 

I have long defended the right of the English clubs to hire disadvantaged peoples from the most benighted corners of the globe.  One simply dreads to think what would happen to poor little banana republics like Tonga, Samoa, Ireland and South Africa if the remittances home from their cashed-up rugger players suddenly stopped.  I daresay the IMF would have to step in immediately.  (What's that, Seamus?  The IMF are already there?  Oh golly!)

But frankly, chaps, I think some of these johnnies are starting to take the mick.  Every Englishman learns from birth to: a) Hate the French; b) Love animals; and c) Never, ever, ever criticise the referee.  But it is all too apparent that the Boer types who have infested the Premiership of late have not received the same schooling.  Indeed, some of them seem not to have undergone any civilising process at all.  It would not surprise me in the least to learn that Mr Venter was raised by a herd of wildebeest somewhere deep in the African savannah.  The man is an utter barbarian and is clearly not fit to be admitted into the English rugger fraternity. 

The RFU needs to keep a very close eye on this.  We English are a benevolent breed but we do not take kindly to savages running amok and undermining the very fabric of our sporting order.  If these chaps can't behave like gentlemen, then I'm afraid the RFU will have to boot them back to Boerland. 

Johnny Dutchman - you have been warned. 

Yours, etc

Viscount Crouchback

 

 

Ms Hurley and Warne - surely some mistake?

What ho, boffers!

I say, chaps, I can't quite believe this Elizabeth Hurley/Shane Warne story.  Admittedly Liz is a randy old harlot, and Shane is clearly a boffer extraordinaire, but heavens above, is it really plausible that a pukka English shire filly should drop her knickers for a try-hard colonial pleb like Warne?  Have you seen the fellow's face lately?  He looks like he's spent the past year in Dr Frankenstein's Laboratory of Eternal Youth.

Of course, there is a rather naive sub-section of English fillies (particularly those irritating creatures from St Mary's, Calne) who go a bit weak at the knees where colonials are concerned.  Naturally, no English girl would ever dream of marrying a colonial, but some of them do harbour unpleasant fantasies of being rodgered beneath the southern cross by some tanned, muscled Adonis by the name of Brett or Glenn.

(The reality, of course, is that Australia is now statistically the fattest nation on earth, and the Bretts and Glenns are about as virile and manly as, well, Michael Clarke).

Still, some fillies can be a bit naive.  However, I had rather imagined that Elizabeth Hurley was amongst the savvier of her breed.  Indeed, having read Warne's twitter box page and discovered that the man expresses himself in the manner of a particularly excitable 13 year old Californian girl, it simply beggars belief that Ms Hurley could be so damned foolish.  Indeed, I venture to suggest that she has demeaned not only herself but Englishwomen everywhere.  The whole ghastly episoe is utterly infra dig.

I suppose we can chalk this frightful episode up as 1-0 for the colonials but, thankfully, I shall be venturing down to the colonies myself over Christmas and look forward to redressing the balance.  My chums inform me that one has merely to recite a line of Virgil and the local "sheilas" become putty in one's arms.  I plan to put my walking cane to good use. 

It should be 4-0 to England in Sydney and hopefully 10-0 to Crouchers.

Yours, etc

Viscount Crouchback

Huzzah!!!

The day is here!

What ho, rugger men!

At last, after a year of torment, the day has arrived for the proud men of Oxford to give the Tabs a bloody good biffing!  Cambridge has won four of the last five Varsity matches, so it is high time that we Oxonians redressed the balance somewhat.  The teams are as follows:

OXFORD

Hamish Macdonald (Wadham); Govind Oliver (Green Templeton), Will Kane (Merton); Tom Evans (St Hugh’s);  Karl Outen (St Edmund Hall), Daniel Guinness (Keble), Louis Mather (University);  Stanley McKeen (VC) (Harris Manchester);  Nick Haydon (C) (University), Charlie Marr (Brasenose), Luke Jones (St Edmund Hall), Alex Cheesman(St Edmund Hall), Sean Morris (Somerville), Luke Fenwick (University), James Crozier (Kellogg)

Replacements: Anthony Connor (Keble), Lewis Anderson (University), Alex Rowe (Queen’s), Ian Swan (Kellogg), Jeremy Mather (Lady Margaret Hall), Harry Guinness (St Anthony’s), Thomas Yusef (University), James Wisson (St Anne’s)

CAMBRIDGE

Niall Conlon (St Edmunds); Jamie Stuart Davidson Gilbert (St Edmunds), Stuart Brown (Clare); Tom Harrington (Wolfson); Charles Baird (St John’s), Jason Kururangi (St Edmunds), Tom Stanton (St John’s); Ben Maidment (St Edmunds); Sam Hunt (Girton), Gregory Douglas Cushing (Ridley Hall), Robert Stevens (Jesus), Paul Loudon (St Edmunds), Fred Burdon (St John’s), Ilia Cherezov (St John’s), James Richards (C) (Hughes Hall)

Replacements: Christopher George Hall (St John’s), Tom Harris (Churchill), Andrew Daniel (St Edmunds), Scott Annett (Clare), Ben Martin (St Catharine’s), Matthew M Guinness-King (St Catharine’s), Miles Daly (Jesus), William Briggs (Magdalene)

The number of geriatric colonials from rum colleges seems somewhat reduced this year, thank Gad, though Green Templeton (which is to Oxford what Stoke City is to the Premier League) not surprisingly makes an appearance again. 

I shan't be in attendance this year but I shall of course be cheering the chaps on.  For an entertaining Tab perspective, read this by the excellent Steve James in the Telegraph.  GDBO indeed, the cheeky blighters!  I can tell Mr James that God will damn only one team today and it assuredly won't be the chaps wearing dark blue jerseys!

Yours, etc

Viscount Crouchback

Savlon for Bruce! (Part II)

What ho, Englishmen!

Bloody hell, chaps, I've seen some beastings in my time but I don't think I've ever seen a monstering quite like that.  The colonials were rodgered!  Utterly, monstrously, brutally rodgered! 

Has the medical industry yet devised a cream to salve the nether regions after a beasting like that?  I rather doubt it.  I suspect that Bruce Shackledragger will be dragging his chains and rubbing his arse all the way to Perth. 

A special word for the superb Mr Strauss and also for his alma mater, Radley College.  Strauss's games master famously said of him that "there was no boy at Radley with whom one would rather be stuck up a gum tree".  Quite so.  But how wonderful to learn that Strauss also has the Jardine-like ruthlessness to give the uppity colonials a good and proper spanking even when Bruce is pleading for mercy.  The man is a walking advertisement for English public schools. 

So, John Bull's foot is on Bruce's throat.  Let's keep it there.  I want to see them grovel.

Yours, etc

Viscount Crouchback

The Footer World Cup

What ho, gentlemen!

I’ve kept my counsel thus far on the FIFA world cup shenanigans.   I understand that tears were shed on council estates across the land as England's proletarian class came to terms with the awful realisation that the footer world cup wouldn’t be gracing our shores.   It didn't bother me so much.  I think footer is rotten from top to bottom, so if some Swiss gnome wants to send the tournament to Russia then that’s fine by me.

However, I did not relish the sight of our future King crawling on his hands and knees to the bumptious little toerags who make up the FIFA Executive Committee.  Nor did I enjoy the sight of our Prime Minister, Mr Cameron, dropping everything at Westminster to do likewise.  I expect my Prime Minister to concern himself with matters of state, not with where some oikball tournament happens to be played every four years.  It was - how can I put this? - somewhat infra dig. 

It seems to me that there is a very obvious problem with football.  Quite simply, too many foreigners play the game.  And not just any old foreigners either but the very worst type of foreigners: greasy, dusky, devious breeds from the darkest corners of the globe.  Sinister peasants who shake you by the hand and remove your watch in one smooth, cunning movement. 

It is no surprise that our robust colonial cousins in the other English-speaking countries treat the game with scorn.  They are quite right to do so.  But I do hope that the disgraceful events in Zurich give the RFU pause for thought the next time they are tempted to "spread the rugby gospel".  For if spreading the gospel means sharing power with assorted Georgians and Russians and Portuguese, then I think rugger is better off remaining a sect than a religion. 

Rugby is perfect as it is: the Englishman rules the roost in benign and benevolent fashion, the colonials and Celts do as they are told, and the greaseballs are grateful merely to be included.  It is just as the world ought to be.  We tamper at our peril. 

Yours, etc

Viscount Crouchback

The daffodils are wilting . . .

What ho, chaps!

More marvellous news from the colonies overnight.  England scored 317 runs for the loss of only 2 wickets.  Alastair Cook (Bedford) batted through the whole day and was unbeaten on 136 at close of play.  It is no exaggeration to state that the colonials are receiving a beasting of monstrous proportions.

I warned about the daffodil nature of the Australian but I must admit that even I am somewhat shocked by the sheer lack of pluck – or “ticker” as the colonials would put it – on display in Adelaide.  Even when England were at their most hopeless in the 1990s, no one could ever accuse the likes of Darren Gough of lacking heart.  Alas, that cannot be said of Siddle, Watson and Bollinger.  I suppose that is the difference between good Saxon yeoman stock and convict colonial stock. 

Quite frankly, chaps, these Australians should be ashamed to call themselves the Queen's subjects.

Yours, etc

Viscount Crouchback

The colonials are on the run . . .

What ho, Englishmen!

Splendid news in from the colonies overnight.  As I predicted earlier in the week, England are giving the penal colonists a damned good biffing in Adelaide.  Bruce, as is his wont, has gone running for the hills at the first sight of John Bull's meaty fist. 

So 245 a.o.  Now England need to bat big and bat long.  I want those shackledraggers chasing leather for two full days in the burning south Australian sun.  I want them so frazzled and despondent that their very souls burn to cinders in the dust.  I want them driven so deranged that they strip Ricky Ponting of his citizenship and cast him off on a flimsy wooden raft to live out the rest of his miserable existence on Van Diemen's Land.

In short, chaps, I want a beasting.  No mercy!

Yours, etc

Viscount Crouchback