Normally my weekdays begin with the following series of significant activities:
1) Wake up at 7 am
2) Brush, wash up etc etc
3) Read the newspaper
3) Have breakfast
4) Leave for office by 8:30 or 9 am.
This Tuesday was different.
It began as follows
1) I woke up at 7:30 am
2) I brushed, washed up etc (I am not Servo, you see).
3) Read the newspaper
4) Had a brainwave
5) I was on top of the world
You see, yesterday I had been treated to an amazing run chase (for those of you morons (read Americans), who did not quite get how you chase runs, go read about cricket, the game, not the insect) in the New Zealand v/s Australia Commonwealth series cricket match. NZ came close, but, as it always happens with the Aussies, they lost, not miserably this time though. But yeah, the fact remains, the goddamned Aussies won again.
Of late, every cricketing nation knows the one thing that they should not do if it wants to win the cricket match is playing against the Aussies. As a connoisseur of Cricket (the game again, you losers), I intend to change that, and I have to profusely thank Miss Shilpa Shetty, The Secular British Media, The Times of India, All the Bachchans and Miss Aishwarya Rai, soon to be Mrs Aishwarya Bachchan for the same. Here is the masterplan.
Take 11 Shilpa Shettys and replace the Indian cricket team with this ensemble. But before playing the mighty Aussies, the team must definitely visit the Kashi Vishvanath temple, the Vindhyavasini temple, The Temple of the King and The Temple of the What Not. Apply some sindoor at a 32 degree angle and spark off some marriage rumours. Publish all this in the front page of the newspaper. And yeah, the winner is quite obviously decided by popular vote.
Now that all our tools have been assembled, we have to do but one thing. Cry, and cry hard. If Glenn McGrath bowls you over, cry hard and accuse him of racism. If Ponting smashes you for a six, cry hard. And then, amidst those (crocodile) tears, accuse them of racism.
Either the Aussies will lose the match out of disgust, or they will be deluged by the tears. Either way, we win.
1) Wake up at 7 am
2) Brush, wash up etc etc
3) Read the newspaper
3) Have breakfast
4) Leave for office by 8:30 or 9 am.
This Tuesday was different.
It began as follows
1) I woke up at 7:30 am
2) I brushed, washed up etc (I am not Servo, you see).
3) Read the newspaper
4) Had a brainwave
5) I was on top of the world
You see, yesterday I had been treated to an amazing run chase (for those of you morons (read Americans), who did not quite get how you chase runs, go read about cricket, the game, not the insect) in the New Zealand v/s Australia Commonwealth series cricket match. NZ came close, but, as it always happens with the Aussies, they lost, not miserably this time though. But yeah, the fact remains, the goddamned Aussies won again.
Of late, every cricketing nation knows the one thing that they should not do if it wants to win the cricket match is playing against the Aussies. As a connoisseur of Cricket (the game again, you losers), I intend to change that, and I have to profusely thank Miss Shilpa Shetty, The Secular British Media, The Times of India, All the Bachchans and Miss Aishwarya Rai, soon to be Mrs Aishwarya Bachchan for the same. Here is the masterplan.
Take 11 Shilpa Shettys and replace the Indian cricket team with this ensemble. But before playing the mighty Aussies, the team must definitely visit the Kashi Vishvanath temple, the Vindhyavasini temple, The Temple of the King and The Temple of the What Not. Apply some sindoor at a 32 degree angle and spark off some marriage rumours. Publish all this in the front page of the newspaper. And yeah, the winner is quite obviously decided by popular vote.
Now that all our tools have been assembled, we have to do but one thing. Cry, and cry hard. If Glenn McGrath bowls you over, cry hard and accuse him of racism. If Ponting smashes you for a six, cry hard. And then, amidst those (crocodile) tears, accuse them of racism.
Either the Aussies will lose the match out of disgust, or they will be deluged by the tears. Either way, we win.
