♪ Ashes to ashes
spunk to spunky
we know Graeme Swann spanks monkey...
Strung out on t'Oval's grass
Leaving a yellow stain ♫
we know Graeme Swann spanks monkey...
Strung out on t'Oval's grass
Leaving a yellow stain ♫
Well, we all know kickyball men are fudgepacking footballers - out on the pitch, hugging each other, snogging each others faces off, ticking balls, fisting each other, and dry humping their mates silk shorted arse because they've kicked a small ball into a giant, mahoosive 24ft x 8ft wide space, before heading off to toss each other off in the showers, and bumming pickers up of soap.
But you would never expect it of sedate, genteel, gentlemanly conducted cricket.
But gone are the days of taking a silly mid on a sticky wicket out for a googly duck, before retiring for a cup of Earl Grey Tea, Cucumber Scones and Cream & Jam sandwiches.
Now it's all 50 Shades Of Earl Grey. Getting all jugged up on Scrumpy Jack before widdling on the green.
That's right. Footballers hauk their phlegm all over the field, and now pissed crickets piss on the Jerusalamic lawns of our Green And Pleasant Village Greens.
See, If I whip my nob out at WombleBum and urinate all over Annabel Croft - I'd be done for unwarranted golden showering of Inteceptor presenting babes. But as usual, it's one rule for taking a slash on frizzy haired ex-tennis players and Treasure-Hunt rip-off presenters1.
"We did go out to the middle of the pitch, all the lads, drinking beers, singing a few songs and enjoying each other's company," Swann said."It was midnight, a private celebration in the middle of the pitch and the ground was dark."
Bet it wasn't as dark after their 'private celebration enjoying each other's company'. Probably all ashine with snail trails of penile ejaculate. or something.
Disgusting. No doubt we'll soon be hearing tales of spit-roast rapey umpires, teabagging cricketing groupies by dunking their bails into their mouths as they "tap the bat on the grass" before getting the runs.
Grass on the wicket? Let's play cricket!
Piss on the lawn? Fuck that, my son!
1 AND WHEN IT COMES TO ANNABEL CROFT AND ANNEKA RICE, I'M PRETTY SURE YOU KNOW WHAT WE'D WANT TO RIP OFF TO GET AT THEIR XXX-MARKS-THE-SPOT "TREASURE HUNT". BUT NOT WINCEY WILLIS. OR KENNETH KENDALL, FOR THAT MATTER.
