Tag Archives: mark nicholas

twas the night before boxing day…

‘Twas the night before Boxing day, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a Strauss;

The bats were knocked in and oiled with care,

In hopes that Mark Nicholas would never be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of cover drives danced in their heads;

And Richie is his jacket, and Punter in his cap,

Had just settled down for a long summer’s nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

Punter sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window he flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

When, what to Punter’s squinty eyes should appear,

But an Ian Chappell, and a barrel of beer,

Chappelli’s mouth was so lively and quick,

“Open up you little dick”.

Then he yelled and the others came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

“Now, Bill! now, Steve! now, Mark and Bob!

On, Kim! on Graham! on, Greg and AB!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now drink away! Drink away! drink away all!”

They drank so fast it was if they flew,

Laughing and abusing Mark Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, Punter heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As Punter drew in his head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney Mark Nicholas came with a hound.

He was dressed all in trendy clothes from his head to his foot,

And his body hair had long since gone caput;

A bundle of baggage he had flung on his back,

And he looked like metro with a fresh shaved sack.

He was skinny and shady and hung like an elf,

And Punter laughed when he saw him, in spite of himself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

He let punter know he had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And started tweeting platitudes like a complete jerk,

And then Chappelli punched his nose,

And the others stood around him, trying to impose;

He sprang to his car, as the blood ran out,

And young pup cried like a small scout.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

“Happy Boxing day to all, I’ll captain Australia out of spite.”

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Pakistan, welcome to hell

Mr Pakistan, a dashing figure with long flowing silky smooth hair and a three day growth, enters the room. He was fairly unsure of why he was there, and he also couldn’t remember how he got there, but there he was, in the room.

It was a white room with a signed picture of Paris Hilton in the corner, although the signature was from Shoaib Akhtar. There was also a chair, and Mr Pakistan sat down. As he did a projector started up and on it was Mark Nicholas swaying from side to side.

“Hello, Mr Pakistan, it is delightful to have you with us”.

Then Mark Nicholas just appeared in front of Mr Pakistan only inches from his face.

“Amazing and incredible, isn’t it?”

Mr Pakistan went to answer, but he didn’t understand the question and he was hypnotised by Mark Nicholas swaying in front of him.

“Today promises to be a special day”.

This is when Mr Pakistan decided to get up and leave, but he couldn’t. Instead Nicholas pushed him off the chair.


With that a naked Jonathon Trott walked in. He was only naked from a genital and nipple point of view. He did indeed have covering on himself; he had cricket gear made out of used tampons. Enough tampons to make sure that Trott’s pads still looked oversized.

Nicholas walked up to Trott, gave him some biltong, and then gestured for Trott to lift each of his feet.

“This will do nicely.”

Nicholas puts Trott’s feet down, and puts his helmet on, before kissing the side of the grill.

“Here comes Jonathan Trott, who has been in spectacular form of late.”

Trott then starts mumbling to himself and circling Mr Pakistan on the floor.

Mr Pakistan seems quite confused by all this. He shouldn’t be.

After the longest time Trott seems to nod to himself and then gets up on Mr Pakistan’s chest. Mr Pakistan is in extreme pain, he tries to move, he can’t, he tries to scream, he can’t. He just has to stand there as Trott walks on his chest, taking this devastating pain.

Then Trott looks up and gestures to the umpire for leg stump. Mr Pakistan is thrown by this, and looks around and realises that he is on a cricket field, on the crease line, and then the pain gets worse as Trott marks his guard down Mr Pakistan’s chest.


Over and over again.

Even though there is already a red mark on Mr Pakistan’s chest.

“Here comes Stuart Broad, what can he bring us today.”

Broad is wearing a giant nappy, and he carries two large buckets.

He stands over Mr Pakistan, and gives him a semi smile, before taking out a ball from one bucket, dunking it in what could only be faeces and then throwing it as hard as he can at Mr Pakistan.

Luckily, Broad fumbles the first few throws, and misses.

Mr Pakistan – who at this stage is realising his chest may not be able to take much more of Trott – is relieved that Broad can’t finish the job. But then a brown ball hits him in the face. And then another. And then another. Then, one more. And another.

Ball after ball hitting Mr Pakistan who can’t use his hands to stop any of them.

“Stuart Broad is putting on a masterclass today”.

Mr Pakistan cannot believe how much pain he is in, his chest is red raw, his face is swollen and cut, and has human waste seeping into his wounds, this is truly the worst situation he could ever be in. Then Trott splits his chest wide open.

The brown substance from Broad’s balls is now seeping towards that opening chest wound. Trott continues to take guard.

And why is Mr Pakistan in this situation? Is it his fault? What has he done to end up with this sort of punishment? I couldn’t have done anything to warrant this.

“Broad and Trott have become an unstoppable force.”

Also, Mr Pakistan thinks, how did they get Mark Nicholas?

Eventually Broad looks tired, but Trott stays strong.

“Broad is out, he has to go now, what an effort from the young man”.

Mr Pakistan is happy, but Broad doesn’t go, he just keeps on throwing balls at what is left of the face of Mr Pakistan. Mr Pakistan, who is still so paralysed he can’t close his eyes, eventually has them closed for him by blood and crap, and he just feels the balls hitting him as Trott continues to open him wider and wider.

“Simply the best from Trotty”.

Then the balls stop. Broad must have gone thinks Mr Pakistan, but he can still feel Trott on his chest.

“And here comes England onto the field, can they match the brilliant record breaking partnership that Trott and Broad produced earlier.”

Mr Pakistan is so freaked out by all the events that have gone on, that with English team arriving imminently to give him even more punishment, he decides it is better to just give up, and he dies. Right there, on the pitch, right as England make it to the middle.

England don’t seem to notice, they go about their business. Their business is re-enacting the entire High School Musical films.

There is poor Mr Pakistan, broken, dead, shit covered and having his lifeless body humiliated by out of key singing by Graeme Swann in the Zack Efron role.

“Oh boy, England are on fire now”.

All bad things must come to an end, and England stop their singing and leave the field. Except Trott. He goes back to the crease, and continues to mark his guard.

“What a special day of test cricket. We are blessed to get to see a day as magnificent as today. We hope you’ll tune in tomorrow”.

Dedicated to my wife on our wedding anniversary.

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Sometimes, It Pays To Be Heartless

So, the international season in Australia has come to an end, and I’m drinking to it. Not because of the unbeaten Aussie summer. Thrashing two mediocre teams is hardly cause for celebration. No, because it means the end of the most annoying experiment in cricket viewing since, well, ever.

Bloody heart rate monitors.

What, I mean what, is the point of this idiocy? The whole point of introducing any sort of technology into a sport is to make it in some way better for the spectator. HawkEye, HotSpot, slo-mo cameras, they all serve this purpose. But what is the freaking point of a heart rate monitor?

It is not as if most of us are incapable of noticing that your heart rate goes up when you are running and it is no great logical feat to suss out that it might go up a bit more if you run and then hurl a small projectile 22 yards.

And it’s not even as if they put them on the interesting players, fer chrissakes. What is the use of putting a heart rate monitor on Mitchell Johnson, unless it is to give his mother heart failure of her own? How about sticking one on Chris Gayle, so that we can tell if he is really that laid back, or just clinically dead? Or on Shane Watson, to see if he actually is 98% straw? Hell, if we are being really interesting, strap it to Steve Smith and see if he’s yet mature enough to walk past a woman on the boundary without all of the blood rushing to his groin?

No, the only conceivable use for this technology is to fix it to the commentators. Watch Mark Nicholas’ bpm rise every time he passes a mirror. Measure Warne’s excitement as a tray of pies goes by. Do what the heck you like with it, just get it off my tv screen.

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The world falls in love with a big hairy Victorian

It was bound to happen.

You need to be a cold blooded animal to not fall in love with Dirty Dirk Nannes.

The man is all raucous masculinity, a puffing, screaming, bowling beast who gives his all with out really knowing what the outcome will be.

What’s not to love?

He may have started slowly in the IPL, but once the big fella got warmed up his first 5 wickets were Kallis, Gilchrist, Gibbs, Oram and Dhoni.

How about hanging those heads up on the wall.

Sehwag has said this about his hirsute behemoth,

“He is the fastest bowler I have played against.”

Our god is so awestruck he doesn’t even realise he hasn’t played against Dirk yet.

The IPL commentators started off not seeming to know anything about him other than he was fast.

Blewett was quick to bag any wide ball or flaw, others said he was a failed experiment, but now they are lining up to get on their knees in front of him.

Nicholas can’t stop mentioning how Dirk bowls quicker than the speed gun, or that he is good enough to play for Australia in any form of cricket.

The others keep saying he must be close to Australian selection, something that the 30 man twenty20 squad seems to argue with.

Every day there seems to be more and more about him in the Indian press, even if it all appears to be roughly the same article edited a different way.

Dirk is lovin’ the media attention, this is what he has had to say.

“I’d fall asleep on the weekend on the couch in the afternoon watching Curtly Ambrose steaming in, Malcolm Marshall and Joel Garner, all those guys, yeah, I looked up to the West Indies pace attack.”

“I never had any real aspirations to play international cricket, I just kind of fell into it. I always played in the backyard with my brother, but I was in the thirds at school and in the thirds at my club side,”

“I will tell me grandchildren that I was responsible for keeping out the greatest fast bowler of all times of a playing XI”

Love live Dirty Dirk.

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delightfully exquistite

The English will know this, but for the rest of the world I will update you on Mr delightful, Mark Nicholas.

He is hosting a show called Britain’s best meal.

And he is just as irritating, and never stops moving when he is talking.

At one stage he looked as if he was going to break into an Elaine dancing bit as he discussed the “competition”.

The show is undoubtedly a runaway hit as it seems to show at about 5 o’clock, just after they go off for bad light.

In the show members of the general public battle against each other for titles such as best pudding.

True story.

It is a weirdly gay English mash up of the iron chef, pop idol and ready steady cook.

Mark Nicholas looks uncomfortable as the host, and didn’t even pop out a delightful or exquisite on the episode I saw.

The whole thing made me feel a bit uncomfortable.

I don’t like Nicholas, but this seemed like cruel and unusual torture.

Then I stopped feeling sorry for him when he built up the battle of the puddings like it was Warne V Lara.

I may never be able to take him seriously as a commentator again.

Ok that is taking it a bit far, as it implies I once did.

The good news he moved his customary anal licking speech over to the amateur chefs.

Glad to know his tongue isn’t permanently up Shane Warne or Adam Gilchrist’s back passage.


Sportsfreak joins the chorus

Sportsfreak agree with me, so I posted this.

Lost amongst the allegations of racial abuse, taunts, and bowlers pontificating towards the dressing rooms, one of the most disappointing aspects of the recent Indian tour of Australia has been the steep and very obvious decline of the Channel Nine commentary team.

Once the pinnacle of cricket broadcasting (and some may say broadcasting in any sport), this outfit has become more embarrassing by the year. And during the 2007/8 series, they finally reached their collective nadir.

It is a sad sight when any public figure loses the plot. However, when an entire commentary team simultaneously submerges itself in a sea of drivel, questions need to be asked.

Tony Greig, the South African/English/Australian consistently recognised as one of cricket’s biggest ever mercenaries, is many years past his best before date (if indeed he ever had one). His place in the commentary box came compliments of a thank you from the late Kerry Packer for all his work during the World Series Cricket years. Now that Kerry has departed this mortal coil, it is time that Greig’s commentary career suffered a similar fate.

His condescending attitude has steadily worsened over the years, which is no mean feat – this is from the man who used to describe Gundappa Viswanath as “Little Vishy”, as if he was a five year old referring to his pet goldfish.

As far as Bill Lawry goes, his commentaries have declined into a state of borderline senility. His bizarre ranting during the 20/20 game at the MCG was the effort of an elderly man, who, in a state of dementia, had reverted back to his preschool years. It was a thorough embarrassment watching a grown man whooping it up like he had just won lotto.

A couple of years ago, Mark Nicholas was a very good front man. He had the ability to temper some of the jingoistic Australian twaddle with a level-headed approach that lent the Channel Nine team some credibility. But, as the crew at Cricket with Art rightly point out, he appears to have fallen victim to Stockholm Syndrome, and any sense of balance has been beaten out of him by his captors.

The new breed of Taylor, Healy and Slater have now been on board for a few seasons. Taylor and Healy are very ordinary at best, seemingly there as a result of their efforts to be so pro-Australian that the others pale in comparison. Slater looked to have plenty of potential a couple of years ago, but has not progressed thanks to the team of donkeys around him. All too often he is heard sniggering like a primary school girl at the back of the box as a result of some in-joke between he and Taylor that nobody else is allowed in on. Must have had some rude words in them. When Gilly arrives, he is surely gone.

Ian Chappell is, was and always has been a commentary enigma. He, of all the Channel Nine crew, is the most likely to provide the best technical analysis – he is also capable of pointing out something so thought provoking that it will stop the viewer in their tracks. However, this is tempered by snide remarks usually directed at anybody playing Australia. The smarmy delivery does not make for easy listening, and at times over the last few seasons it almost appears as though he is getting bored with it all. The ignoring of Tendulkar is just plain sour grapes.

And of course last, but not least, there is Richie.

Long regarded as the doyen of TV cricket commentators, the once great Richie Benaud has gone on two seasons too long. His time on the microphone has been drastically reduced, yet when he DOES appear, he is reduced to corny one liners in a “really guys, I am very funny” method. If further proof was needed, his display in the Symonds vs Streaker episode was particularly unamusing.

Mind you, everyone else in the commentary box thought Richie was hilaaaaaarious. Course they did. He is, after all, their Godfather.

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OBO of Allan Border Medal

Night starts off bad, as father and I have to convince mother to watch some crappy reality show in another room.

Mark Nicholas starts with a message about Rianna Ponting’s bun in the oven. Strangely no Michael Slater jokes. But Mark Nicholas does look radiant.

Gilly tributes start early with Ponting and Nicholas eager to out do each other.

Channel nine changes tact and puts in a quick quiz to the players on what the ten modes of dismissal are, I got nine, bloody hitting the ball twice got me.

Sri Lanka test series highlights forget to mention King Kumar’s innings, I get the feeling this is not going to be a night about cricket, but just about Channel 9 and Australian cricket.

India test series highlights had only the slightest bastard monkey references.

Sri Lanka series is so not important that no one bothers to read them out, India series is so important Mark Taylor’s expert oral skills and brought out.

The test player of the year (in a year of 6 home tests) is Brett Lee. Brad Hogg very unlucky to miss out.

Blonde Bimbo count is high, people sucking up to Gilly much higher.

Amazing that Mark Nicholas can still stand and talk, all the blood is rushing to his trousers at the moment.

They pretend to talk about cricket ads, but instead get some great plugs for Valvoline and Ford into the show. Bet that’s cheaper than the superbowl ads.

Roy gets interviewed and is still the funniest Australian cricketer, but that’s like being the sexiest Spice girl.

Roy And HG (not theAndrew Symonds Roy) give us some comedy. They get off to a slow start, but there are enough jokes in there, and they give a retrospective AB medal to John Glesson the one fingered mysterious bowler.

Channel 9 gave Kerry Packer and Tony Greig a tribute in the guise of World Series cricket. Max Walker and Len Pascoe come out well.

More Gilly sucking up, he gets on stage and even he seems to think it’s too much. Then Richie trots out to give him an empty wine bottle for being so good. It is encrusted not with jewels but with the Channel 9 logo. Would get upwards of 50 bucks on ebay.

An hour into the coverage and we have looked at 6 tests.

Australia’s one day losses to England and New Zealand are glossed over expertly, with world cup games against Scotland given more coverage.

Luke Pomersbach gets Bradman young player of the year award, he looks soberish.

Lisa Sthalekar got female player of the year award for the second year running. Heard her speak recently, she speaks very very well, much better than pretty much any male player. Also I feel she is rather attractive. Wonder if she is gay or taken.

Ashley Matrix got state player of the year. Only a nut job could argue anyone else has had a better year, that nut job being my father mentioning David Hussey.

The rogue traders took to the stage. We filmed them 2 weeks ago as they played a gig to 30 people. Now they’re playing to a couple of million punters, and they still suck.

Quick segment on the bollywood cricket film. I have heard the director talk about it, and the film doesn’t sound like its going to be good, but I could be biased cause I think most Bollywood films are sh1t. And most Australian films for that matter.

Being that this is shown live on Fox Sports Brendan Julian and his 4oo dollar hair cut get a run on the main stage.

Fast major controversy as Matt Hayden wins one day player of the year and kisses Gilly’s wife. Still no Slater jokes.

I stand by my pre world cup comments, that Hayden is just not a good one day player and shouldn’t be in the side. I think this last year has vindicated that call.

George Giffen was promoted to the hall of fame, he used to kill Victoria, so we hate him.

Ian Healy was also put in, he received some sort of sh1t stained wooden trophy.

Mark Nicholas takes 3 minutes out of our lives to explain how the Allan Border medal voting system works, just hand it out already.

And the winner is Brett Lee.

Fair effort for someone who missed a butt load of one dayers.

The real winner is Mitchell Johnson, his girl is extraordinary.

Mark Nicholas finishes the night with one last lick at the anal passage of Australian Cricket.

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Channel 9’s A team

Channel 9 suck, all Australian’s know this, Moses just mentioned it, Tony mentions it often, but in Australia we are stuck with them for a while longer.

So I thought we should rate their on air talent.

Bill Lawry – Rumours have be circulating around the traps for a while that Bill is on his way out. It’s not that he is losing form, its that he is in the exact same form he was when he signed his first Channel 9 contract. Would be unfair to lose his position when there are others around who are ordinary. Still gets excited, still speaks his mind, it’s just that we know what is going to come out.


Tony Greig – Is still a pervert, but is not a pervert protected by Kerry Packer or his scientologist son. Continues to get cricketers names wrong. Continues to talk about broad shoulders and well built young men, and still the only commentator willing to say dirty things when pretty young ladies are shown. Invented crash helmets, the doosra and the Tony Greig shot (a lingering camera shot on a hot chick in revealing costume). Is not in particularly good form, but hard to remember a time when he was. Still hates Australia while making all his cash here. You have to respect that.


Richie Benaud – I am not worthy to rate the great man.


Ian Chappell – You know before the year what you will get from him. He will say the SCG is his favourite ground. He will talk about Les Favell twelve times a test. He will say the opposition batting line up is wrong. He will complain about every captaining decision. He will try like fu©k not too swear. And he will name drop every important cricket name he can think of at all times. But he does actually have opinions and he does talk about cricket, so it’s hard to hate him.


Ian Healy – The man was a champion cricketer. Which is lucky cause he is a horrible commentator. He can’t interview, he sits on the fence, he makes excuses for all cricketers mistakes and he has the on air personality of a fish that has been killed, scaled and regurgitated. Gets technical about a sport that is pretty damn simple. When on the cricket show giving a master class he is very good, but why not let him specialise in that. He is not up to commentating.


Mark Taylor – Can’t speak really that good. For a man that seemed so damn clever on the field, you would have to think he left all that intelligence out on the pitch. His only redeeming moments come in bagging Michael Slater, but that’s an easy target. He is lucky that Ian Healy is around, so he doesn’t look like a complete fool. He has ruined so many great cricket moments like McGrath’s hattrick, that he should be tried for heresy.


Mark Nicholas – The man who thinks everything is delightful, wonderful and exquisite. Only George Bush sucks up to Australians better than Mark. Everytime he spoke to Shane Warne Channel 9 had to replace Shane’s shoes for excessive semen damage. His latest escapade where he went over the top on Gilly for 3 days straight proves he is a sycophant and should be sent back to whatever pay tv network he came from.


Michael Slater – I always hated Slater, maybe it was all the failures in the 90’s, or his tattoo, his car or those Mrs Gilly rumours, but either way he got on my nerves as a player. As a commentator I don’t hate him. Compared with the other new breed, he is actually quite good. He bags himself well, doesn’t pretend to know anything about cricket and gets excited about buttering his toast. Sure he says 74 words when none will do, but he has a dumb guy honesty that seems to suit commentating. But that said, he is not in the 10 best commentators in Australia and should be shafted.


Simon O’Donnell and the Cricket Show – So’d is smug, and a tosser, but as long as he is shafted to the cricket show he is fairly harmless. After watching him on the races for long periods of times I know why he is only given a few moments at a time.

His show is out dated, stale and ©rap. They show filmed episodes that are boring and useless. Dan Cullen and Cullen Bailey get specials even though both of them are too sh1te to get regular selections for their state (the worst in the country) and yet Bryce McGain, Doug Bollinger and others who are an actual chance of playing for their country are hardly mentioned.

Either make it a cricket show like Inside Cricket on Foxtel, or make it a relevant clips show, and show specials on young cricketers who are performing at state level or just in the national side. Don’t give us the worst bits of both those ideas.

When the cricket show does try and tackle the big issues, they usually get round table discussions with Ian Healy, Mark Taylor and So’d. Does anyone really need that?


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Australia destroy India with Crushing Draw

Spectators at the Radelaide Oval said they had never seen such a brutal draw in all the tests they had visited.

India were confused at Australia playing for a draw, but they decided to go with it as they are comfortable with draws.

Ian Chappell was heard to say it was one of the best draws the great Les Burdett has cultivated in his time at the Radelaide Oval.

He said it reminded him of a first class game where the great Les Favell drew a game against Victoria.

Anil Kumble said he was happy with the spirit that Ganguly didn’t walk with.

Ponting was quite impressed with how Michael Clarke positioned himself at slip.

Gilly went out of his way not to mention Michael Slater in any press conference.

Sehwag didn’t say anything to the media in case he would get dropped for another few tests.

Matthew Hayden thanked jesus for Gilly, Mark Nicholas prostrated himself in front of Gilly like he was Jesus.

And Bill Lawry left quietly with something flapping in his suit case.

Ps, Shane Watson has been promoted to the role of wicketkeeper for Queensland for the rest of the year. Sime was heard to say,

“Lets be honest, he’s a surefire selection now.”

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uglier than brendan, less smug than simon, but still not richie

This is for Suave.

I’ve just been thinking of Mark Nicholas, which isn’t normal for me, he’s a rather benign chap in general so I don’t really think of him.

I don’t dislike Nicholas as a commentator, he isn’t great, but when teamed up with Slater, Healy or Taylor he is pretty good.

When teamed up with Bill or Richie he is pretty shabby.

He is now the face of cricket in Australia, thanks to channel 9, and the fact none of our ex players or commentators are pretty enough or well spoken enough to do the job Richie did.

Except for Brendan Julian, but he’s Brendan Julian, enough said really.

There are good points about Nicholas being the face of cricket, he keeps Simon O’Donnell and his smug fu©king grin off the telly, mostly.

That’s all the good points.

My problem with Nicholas is that he is too nice to Australians, and pretty much anyone who was any good at cricket.

Probably even people who don’t play cricket.

In the taxi I bet he says

“So Biruk, tell us about how you work the onboard computer, because I’ve seen a lot of people do it, but no one does it with the skill, flair and timing that you show.

What’s your secret?”

It drives me insane.

But you must understand that this is probably my issue.

I’ve never liked people who are “too” nice. I don’t trust them, I trust @ssholes, that’s something I can understand.

Nicholas is just so nice, he could interview Hitler and his first question would be

“So Adolf, I hear you’ve got a german shepherd.

No good.

If were going to have a Englishman head our coverage at least give me a violent grumpy man like Peter Roebuck, Geoffrey Boycott or even Bill Nighy.

Some one who says bollocks a lot.

Some one with a real accent.

Someone who doesn’t sound like a tv personality.

Someone with a perversion.

You know, some one I can relate to.

Is a good bloke who likes to hit people and bag cricketers too much to ask for?

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