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Showing posts with label Perth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Perth. Show all posts
Bad people making fun of beloved Indian cricket team.
Our 2nd appearance on NDTV 24X7, this time, in far more trying circumstances: Australia 3, India 0. Impatient? Go straight to 1:20 and watch Bored Cricket Crazy Indians (BCC!)
For our NDTV debut, here you go
Cement Head
Now you’ve done it, you’ve done it haven’t ya?
Yes, you’ve opened up your addled mind
Squelched out a priceless and noxious beauty
A tracer bullet off your copious behind
A mind and behind of opulent plenty - aye we know
Buckling under its glorious Orca gluttony
Bereft of hint of nurturing thought
Numb in pursuit of absolute hegemony
Oh, the remains were still smoldering yet
Painful smoke was still wafting around the WACA
Ere you unclenched your copious cheeks
And deposited a colossal mountain of kaka
Come on home to papa in India you said
Come hither and we’ll cream Aussie arse
Oh, bygone be bygones suckers, you smirked
Like 3-0 was a concocted farce
We’ll smack English behinds too, you squeaked
Collect and usurp unsuspecting Kiwi scalps
And when Australia came knocking at home
You’d go goddamned medieval on their arse
Hell, Melbourne be damned (Adelaide don’t exist)
Excuse me, did Sydney even happen?
Now in Perth, whatever it’s bloody worth
Was there even a result worth a mention?
Marquee this tour had been touted as
Would wipe England’s nightmares off our retina
Alas and alack, it careened shit-side
As the team wore out its erstwhile patina
Yes, you didn’t bat, no, you didn’t bowl
For that we won’t slather you with blame
But do you even care, have a fucking clue
What responsibility comes with your name?
Your primo product just laid a colossal turd
Mind you, one reinforced with India cement
But this is how you choose to ignore it
And belittle that ignominious event?
Dare I ask, do you ever even hurt?
Do you forgo or feign an occasional sigh?
Can anything ever bring you down?
Off your spectacular TV revenue high?
Drunk on your moolah, sauced like a boss
High as a kite on your loaded coffers
You sit barricaded in your shiny fortress
Surrounded by your fawning tossers
Helplessly we look on, in pain we squirm
Glance at you custodians of our game
As you blow even our miniscule expectations
And bring us to our knees in shame
Super King my friend, superman you are
Unlike your team which mislaid its pluck
With your brazen words, and your demented gravitas
You’ve now convinced us you don’t give a fuck
By Sriram Dayanand
who blogs at Boundary Conditions and protects his tweets @sdayanand
Yes, you’ve opened up your addled mind
Squelched out a priceless and noxious beauty
A tracer bullet off your copious behind
A mind and behind of opulent plenty - aye we know
Buckling under its glorious Orca gluttony
Bereft of hint of nurturing thought
Numb in pursuit of absolute hegemony
Oh, the remains were still smoldering yet
Painful smoke was still wafting around the WACA
Ere you unclenched your copious cheeks
And deposited a colossal mountain of kaka
Come on home to papa in India you said
Come hither and we’ll cream Aussie arse
Oh, bygone be bygones suckers, you smirked
Like 3-0 was a concocted farce
We’ll smack English behinds too, you squeaked
Collect and usurp unsuspecting Kiwi scalps
And when Australia came knocking at home
You’d go goddamned medieval on their arse
Hell, Melbourne be damned (Adelaide don’t exist)
Excuse me, did Sydney even happen?
Now in Perth, whatever it’s bloody worth
Was there even a result worth a mention?
Marquee this tour had been touted as
Would wipe England’s nightmares off our retina
Alas and alack, it careened shit-side
As the team wore out its erstwhile patina
Yes, you didn’t bat, no, you didn’t bowl
For that we won’t slather you with blame
But do you even care, have a fucking clue
What responsibility comes with your name?
Your primo product just laid a colossal turd
Mind you, one reinforced with India cement
But this is how you choose to ignore it
And belittle that ignominious event?
Dare I ask, do you ever even hurt?
Do you forgo or feign an occasional sigh?
Can anything ever bring you down?
Off your spectacular TV revenue high?
Drunk on your moolah, sauced like a boss
High as a kite on your loaded coffers
You sit barricaded in your shiny fortress
Surrounded by your fawning tossers
Helplessly we look on, in pain we squirm
Glance at you custodians of our game
As you blow even our miniscule expectations
And bring us to our knees in shame
Super King my friend, superman you are
Unlike your team which mislaid its pluck
With your brazen words, and your demented gravitas
You’ve now convinced us you don’t give a fuck
By Sriram Dayanand
who blogs at Boundary Conditions and protects his tweets @sdayanand
Watch the first episode of THE WHITE BORED - why has India lost it
Produced by Yash Chawla, NDTV. Rambling by Bored Member NC.
Shot on location at The Bored Room, Yawn T Roads.
Next: Afridi bites teammate
Afridi wasted 3 balls, then he had to go to the lavatory, it was urgent. He attempted a front foot pull – it was like a failed coup in a happy go lucky banana republic. Even if you fail, they let you off with a reprimand rolled with a blog rant.
Had it come off, it would’ve been the shot of the fortnight. Then he would’ve been decorated like Generals often are after happy ending coups.
Such shots should be attempted every now and then. They make cricket far more interactive. You get to ask Afridi, “Why Afridi, why?” He will tell you if was the IPL, eating away at him.
It wasn’t gonna stop there. He snacked at the ball. “Samosa aur chai hoh jai, aur ek white ball bhi? Seams good.”
How long before Afridi bites one of his mates and gives them eternal cricket life – “Change me!” they say; straight out of the Twilight series as they are; even if they can’t make out with Afridi, they'll play on forever.
You can also read Over to Afridi
and they said we can't play short pitch stuff...
keep your head down and eyes off the line of the ball... pray that the ball whizzes past you without hitting anything... and let your countrymen proclaim that actually its us who can not play short pitch stuff...
RT Ponting* retired hurt 23
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