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Fan clubs that we aren't fans of


I had a really fantastic idea for a post this morning. A real hum-dinger. People for miles around would come to see this fantastical blog.

Then I went to work and forgot it.


So I’ll just settle back into a comfortable default, and whine about Steve Harmison.

Oh Lord, how I hate Steve Harmison. Well, I don’t hate the man, I’m sure he’s fine in a bleating, bellyaching way. I just hate everything about him.

Now he’s back into the England set up. Rumour has it that he averages 21 in this season. That’s pretty good. And that he’s fast.

Although, fast long hops still get a pasting.

I put all these anecdotes down to The Usual Nonsense That Surrounds Harmison. Some people can’t get enough of the man. They see a lackey bloke, who chucks it down there at some pace and they become gibbering aunties: “Ooooh.” They say, “Isn’t he lovely?”

No. He’s rubbish. And he’s especially rubbish at cricket.

Worse still, Chris Read fans. What is wrong with these people? Alright, he’s an ok-ish keeper with wonky teeth, but if you listen to Read-fans you would have thought England have refused a place to Jesus H. Bradman.

Like Liberal governments and dead people, Chris Read is part of the past.

I’m getting worked up now. Who else winds me up?

I suppose the Geraint Jones lot are annoying. But they aren’t so numerous now that a court of law proved their champion USELESS.

Ooh. There’s another one: Jimmy Anderson. For some reason, there is a large segment of people out that cannot see that pants for the trees. Occasionally, he bowls a good swinging ball. But swinging long hops are still UTTERLY CRAP.

“Oh but” the Oh Buts always say, “He’s got good figures!”

Oh good figures. Piss off.
(J Webb a.k.a The Atheist, has this to say about himself : I used to flail predictable leg-spinners at batsman on TwickenhamGreen. Then they used to smash me for six. This dynamic was repeated many times. Now I hide behind words, where the pain of the constant tonking can’t hurt me, and where only lawyers attempt sneaky singles. Now, I have developed into the wizard spinner of written cricket; an unplayable googly in words. I have become blog, destroyer of careers.)

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