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Blackcaps appoint new batting coach |
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Written by Emmer
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Monday, 22 January 2007 |
 Congratulations Fuckcaps on finally appointing a batting coach. In a second
piece of good news your new batting coach is me, Emmer. As I do not presently
have the time or inclination to come to Adelaide to watch you have your
pathetic, lily-livered arse-holes handed to you on a plate again, coaching will
initially be by telephone. So sit down, shut up, listen and learn.
Fleming, we will start with you, you chicken-hearted piece of shit. It is
your attitude that is the problem. You look like you do not give a crap. Even
that does not explain how you could possibly score 12 off 43 balls with the
field up and then get out, but I have long since given up making excuses for
you, you stupid, stupid bastard. You are dropped from the team, effective
immediately and will be sent to clown school for the rest of the summer. I will
pay. We are going to replace you with one of the Marshall twins so you can
understand how Jeetan Patel must feel. Not so funny now is it you fucker
Astle, Kiwi Master Blaster my arsehole. I have seen apparently dead people with
more blast than you. Like Shane Bond for example. Or James Franklin when I catch
up with him. Start running now Franklin you useless excuse for a human being,
you bastard, you bastard, you bastard. Sorry I digress.
There is really nothing even Emmer can do for you Astle, you horrible
little man. Historically, when you are out of form, you really do go down for a
shit. History repeats itself. You will not get another run this series.
Accordingly you are also dropped; please remove your possessions from the hotel,
sod off and die. You will not be replaced. We have run out of Marshall twins. We
would rather play with ten men.
McCullum: Although I wish to bring a dispassionate objectivity to my new
position, I would be less than honest if I did not say, first up, that I have
always hated your guts. This is based on your inability to catch. However,
leaving that aside, you are not an opening batsman’s arsehole. You are not even
Nathan Astle’s arsehole. You are however an arsehole.
You will be reassigned to the number 7 position, which is in effect 6
given Astle’s long overdue termination. Please try to understand that “closing”
an innings does not mean bringing it to a close with one of your stupid wogs.
You are not Gilchrist’s arsehole either.
Jamish: The thought of one, either, or both of you in the national team
makes me unspeakably angry in a RWC 2003 sense. Stop batting like a little girl.
In fact stop batting. You have so little talent it is hardly worth your while,
although you do have a talent for pissing me off that is second to none. What
exactly do you say when you’ve been brought into a team as specialist batting
cover at the expense of our best bowler and then get a three ball duck? Even
Emmer would be at a loss for words. “I’m a fucking gutless twatface spineless
cockface dickhead” doesn’t even really begin to explain things does it?
Until further notice you will be rooming with Sonny Shaw.
Taylor: Ross, It’s time to grow up you little shit. You have gone out
twice in two innings to the same stupid shot. Anyone doing this in club cricket
would be dropped or found hanging in the dressing room from their own bootlaces.
However your problem is easily remedied. If you get out going for a stupid wog
again I will insert a bat up your nose and at least one Marshall twin, if not
both, where the sun does not often shine. Is that clear? Good boy.
Right, that’s the top order sorted. Next Emmer will deal with the small
matter of the fielding and the bowling, and we’ll see the boys in the finals in
a couple of weeks. Where did I put my beer?
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![546med[1].jpg](http://www.thesilverfern.com/images/abs_157/546med[1].jpg)
