521/SH Breakfast Champion 360 Gradi Indian Kitchen Vicston

Bashers Cricket Club

Nanjing ’18 Rural VI’s Jumberlack

To add a little context:

  • The auction was a shabby event (video highlight below)
  • Parrot failed to understand he couldn’t buy the whole squad
  • Cages Buffalo chicken sandwich is a big sandwich

Part 1 – a truly Bashery opening

Another year, another tour, another Nanjing rural sixes. Very rural. Maybe the ruralest ever. Where to begin? Friday PM, Shanghai Railway North square. Oh, wait? No. Sorry, what’s that, Omega?

“Let’s meet at the south square”

Blatantly not any easier or quicker whatsoever. The end result being that the Bashers now all absolutely piss wet through with rain. In a last ditch attempt to conquer the rain, Nuts got involved with some premature ruralness by buying a ¥10 umbrella. Good, logical thinking, right? Rain = Umbrella NO. It cost him ¥1 per second, then was halved by the next gust of wind leaving him with just the handle. Do not fight cake with cake, just let it be and enjoy it. As all the Friday-travelling Bashers made the train, they were kept well watered by Paps Watermelon beverage innovation: mixed reviews to say the least.

Ruralometer: 15%

On what seems to always symbolise the Bashers on an away day, the train journey became a firey encounter in which booze was downed, Fruitbox pulled out his Jukebox, and Nuts even made a new friend. Chinese friend. Train Friend. Girly Friend. Bashers Friend. Friend. Thumbs up Friend 👍 Friend was well up for getting loose, however her boss was sat a few rows in front and didn’t allow it, much to the disappointment of the travelling Bashers contingent. Nuts still proceeded to get her number which will be auctioned at the Bashers curry night.

Ruralometer: 20%

(To give you a slightly more chronological breakdown, some tourists didn’t travel on Friday. Schlöst, Lunchcutter, Simon, Pope and Tampon were due to arrive at later times on Saturday) More on them shortly…..

“Bashers Focus – Nuts Friday night:”

“Fruitbox got jellied and became unreasonably angry when the bar told him there was no food. He went out into the night to find a kebab without any luck. After the incessant bleating from fruity, I went to the bar to convince them to provide food. Fruity in tow I was told that they do serve food and that the snack menu was available. This didn’t go down well with Fruity. After destroying a menu he was calmed slightly by the entire offering being ordered. This peace lasted for only a few mins. With the kitchen being open plan it was clear there was fuck all happening. After another few mins serval hurried staff were moving around to give the illusion that they were busy making our food. In fact the fryer had been on for 10mins already cooking it all unbeknownst to us. The first course was popcorn chicken. After a few mouthfuls fruity was settled slightly and now with his energy replenished he could exact his revenge. First he threw some chicken at the man hurriedly trying to fry everything else, then he tried to pull a heat lamp that warms waiting food from its socket. Being a stubborn little shit it wouldn’t bunch so in a final act of fury every orifice of the lamp was stuffed with popcorn chicken. After several more courses and then them all again in the combo meal fruity was satisfied and moved on to dancing / pretending to DJ”

Fruitbox feels the full force of the jelly.

*Auction night, the drink-off to see who would play for the (first) sledge. Not knowing that it would come round again.

Ruralometer: 35%

I won’t delve too much into the retardment status of the late arriving Bashers, because if you join tour late or leave early, you are, quite simply put, a massive K. However, that said, you do have the chance to make amends. And boy did the LARKs (Late Arriving Retarded Kunts) do that. As Lunchie, Tampon and Pope made their way from Shanghai’s posh train station, Simon was due to meet Schlost at Shanghai’s rural railway station, at a very serious time of 0530, for the 0548 to Nanjing south. Considering they had spent the day together at a rural golf day for charity together, this seemed pretty simple to organise. Simon, true to his name, arrives at 0515 and starts the sesh seriously with a leftover beer, waits for 15 mins, no sign of Schlöst (last seen Jingan Kerry centre 20:30).

“Schlöst where are you mate” cries out Simon in a serious tone, in fear of missing the train.

“Oh, shit, I just woke up” replies Schlöst. “See you in Nanjing you K”. Replied Simon, as he marched seriously to the train on his own, arguably where Simon belongs, with way too many beers and rural apple cider for 1 tourists own consumption. Simon met Lunchcutter at Nanjing south station, with Pope and Tampon arriving slightly earlier and Pope opting to head out there earlier and not wait for them. Then, in true rural fashion, Lunchie decides to then drop the bomb that he had lost his return ticket to Shanghai en route. Not all heroes wear capes do they Lunchcutter, they join tour late, lose tickets and balls it up. After a slight detour to the ticket office to find that his lost ticket cannot be replaced, and a maccies breakfast with a Friday nights beer to line the rural stomach, Simon and Lunchcutter headed for a taxi.

Part 2: Wrone direction

Huge, huge mistake.

It turns out that a fellow conspiracy theory was that, as well as the Bashers receiving much stronger jelly than the rest, they were also given the wrong ground address…..

By now, the majority of the Bashers had made it to the hotel bus on Saturday morning, led by their fearless eyes shut leader Bambi, who, despite being awake, had his eyes closed, and maintained key communication merely via mumbling. The LARKs were en route to the ground via taxi, everything was in order. The only problem that the en route here refers to the back arse end of Nanjing’s northern territories, which is where the other Nanjing rural polytech wasteman establishment of zero education is located. By now, like a game of jelly pacman, the basher LARKs GPS locations all had an apparent common theme: heading to the wrong fucking place. After Bhenchod shared his location which, having already arrived via bus, if had been screenshotted, showed that the LARKs were 40km away. In an attempt to try to make the first game of the day, they urgently hurried their respective drivers to drive to the new location, and in turn now being able to pay for their children’s education through to Phd level as a result of today’s extra income. Schlöst update: just left Shanghai on the 0748.

Ruralometer 45%.

As the Basher LARKs began to arrive in dregs to the ground, a special mention to Simon and Lunchie who rocked up in the taxi and arrived on the basketball court adjacent to the pitch demanding door to door service, it was apparent that the morning jelly had begun to kick in. Virgin tourist PTG was already asleep, Fruitbox was whiter than Suzhou Graham’s pale Jock arse, and Bambi’s eyes were actually inverting into his face. Then, to Simon’s utter disbelief and shock, Schlöst rocks up to the ground a mere 10 minutes after him and Lunchie had arrived, despite missing the 0548 out of Shanghai and leaving 2 hours later. The days play began with Parrot’s Bashers picking up a valuable tie/draw, as YRH lumber wasn’t there, they can’t comment on that game. It’s a jelly haze for most of the other tourists too. It was a platform to build for what was a remarkable day of ups and downs, both in cricketing and jelly~inflicted intra ~pyscho~analysis. After more jelly, more beers, and full Bashers contingent ready to rock n roll, Fake News prepared his Bashers 2 team for battle. A jelly battle. They lost. Not only did they lose, they lost against Nanjing Bogans, which meant only 1 thing: they lost the sledge. Yes, that’s right, the sledge that Serious Simon had to carry through the pissing Shanghai rain Friday eve as there were no taxis. Simon let his feelings be known to Fake News as captain, however, it didn’t appear that much registered with a now jellied, dysfunctional unit of a man, not dissimilar to a rural version of Stig of the Dump considering the occasion. With the sledge gone, the most important piece of silverware lost for another year, all cricketing pride was lost… Or was it? Bashers Focus: Fake News “In all seriousness, I don’t remember losing the sledge. Everything was just noise. Jelly noise. I assembled my overpriced team and did battle, not knowing the consequences. Simon claims to have abused me for losing it but to be honest if I had heard I would have halved him in front of everyone and swamp-balled him like the little toothpick he is.”

Ruralometer: 50%

Part 3 – Cricketing looseness personified

With the ruralometer heading down, the Bashers really needed to up their game. And, boy, did they do just that. Within minutes of losing the Sledge, PTG was asleep once again, Fruity had figured out that the sky could cave in and take the Bashers into a deep, dark black hole along with him, and we could see that Paps was heading into a very jelly-centered circle of self-destruction. Then, in what must have been one of the most bizarre events in Tour history, Paps decided to head back to the hotel. 10 minutes previously, Simon ushered Paps to the water machine to try to rehydrate a jellified Paps, in the hope that it would neutralise his thoughts of “I need a rest” or “the hotel is the place I need to be” which were mumbled out of his mouth on the walk to the machine. By now, Simon was stuck into the sesh and also pretty jellied, so the conversation was very much a cottonmouth exchange of utter drivel. Simon failed to bring Paps round, and within 10 minutes of returning from the glory dash for H20, Paps was nowhere to be seen. Then, 1 tourist cried “look, it’s Paps, over there by the hill!” As all the Bashers then turned to see our cult-hero hazing his way towards the exit for a taxi, his back foot gave way, and to an almighty cry of laughter from the Bashers, he slipped down the hill and onto his front. Comeuppance.

Ruralometer: 60%

With Paps now gone, (it’s still disputed as to what happened to him after, he claims to have had some rural Lamian and gone back to the hotel) it was up to the rest of us to continue the looseness. And that we did. Tampon was getting stuck into it, asking around for any 2s on fags, jelly, laughing gas, beer, gin, cider apple sours, even a sniff of Graham’s arse was solicited to ensure maximum looseness for the long afternoon session ahead. After the first 2 games, the Bashers were in solid positions, a win for each and then an extra tie for Parrot’s Bashers meant they were in firm position to progress. The main highlight of the games was Messi’s rant at the umpire for being given out, (he was miles out) but he proceeded to protest and at one point could be seen raising his bat towards the umpire:

Bashers Focus: Messi

“That umpire can fuck off, what a prick. I mean what is the point in ruining the day for everyone? I’ve paid good money to travel from Hangzhou for this game, and the umpire decides to be a little bitch about it? It was very clear I was in, I minced down the wicket, stood in the crease, bat on the floor, and some clown throws the ball at the wicket and appeals and its’ given out. No wonder I reacted the way I did, I was so upset and hurt. I’m not coming again if that’s the way the tourists are going to get treated its immature. It’s all because I refused to be peer-pressured into eating jelly. I justified this by saying that it is made from horse and pigs hoofs, and I just wasn’t hungry so didn’t want to eat it. It was clear for the rest of the day that everyone was just picking on me and it’s not fair.”

Burkha rules: one of each team’s bats(wo)man MUST wear the Burkha during the innings, and the wearer is decided by picking the short straw. Double runs given for Burkha hits. 

Heading in to the last game, it was all to play for. Bashers 2 (Fake News) needed results to go their way to enter a bowl off, having lost 1 game already. However, Bashers 1 (Parrot) were in a much stronger position having P2 W1 T1 in their first two. The issue they faced was they faced Serious Simon’s idols the BJ Ducks in the final game. A winner takes all. Spoiler alert: Bashers 2 won their final game and entered the bowl off with Nanjing Bogans. The key event of note in this game was a HUGE swamp dive from Nuts, head over tit into the Cholera-infested rat pit of the outfield, which sent a loose roar around the ground and chants of “nan a nan a, he he heeeee, what a wanker!” Omega’s account below:

Basher Focus: Omega

“As a seasoned veteran of the tour, I have to admit this one is right up there for looseness. My favourite part? That would have to be Nuts’ swamp ball. I had a prime view from my deck chair that has been on tour since 1997, and the as the jelly was kicking in, Nuts took flight, attempting to field a shui ball, and went head over arse, and right into the swamp where NJ Fluffer crawled to existence 19 years and 5 pubes ago. I must also add that I fought the jelly, and I won. The same cannot be said for some of the other soft lads in the team”.

Parrot’s Bashers now faced BJ Ducks, a fine cricketing outfit, with some great tourists (beer only). The Bashers posted a defendable 50, with the Ducks needing 51 for victory. As the game wore on, it was plain to see that the Bashers bowling technique, and a shit cameo from ex-Basher Channa, (ex-Bashers because he didn’t make the effort to speak to any of us) that the BJ Ducks just didn’t have enough to dispatch the Bashers tight death bowling. The BJ Ducks last 2 overs went for a mere 10 runs, with some very suspect half-track-three-bouncers from Simon, and that was that, Parrot’s Bashers into the final unbeaten, but still very, very jellied.



In a tense twist of events, with Parrot’s Bashers already marching on and into the final, FnB had to fight it out in a bowl off: a sudden death thriller of hit wicket or you’re out. The interesting thing was that it was a double whammy: Nanjing Bogans win, we have a chance to reclaim the sledge. FnB win: an all Bashers final. It can be said that seen as though nobody could be arsed, there is very little material included here. Each player had to down a fireball shot before coming up to bowl, and faced the constant chirp of “Shanghai wankers, Shanghai wankers” from the I’ve had a couple and I feel lairy Beijing ducks (already eliminated by PBashers) Short story: Bogans won, Bashers 2 eliminated. No Basher~on~Basher final, but a chance for the sledge to be reclaimed. Game on.

Bashers Focus: Rooty

“The less said about the bowl off the better, it was a flaky, generally lacking affair with ZerO shits given by a bunch of now very jellied Bashers. If anything, they may well not have bothered and just chucked pies off the mat for the thrill of it. I think I’d just finished my 5th rich tea biscuit by that point, shame there wasn’t any tea”

Ruralometer: 70%


With 2 prizes on offer, the Sean Connery Cup of Dreams and also the re~Sledge, Bashers 1 gathered round, lead by Parrot, to discuss who was going to make the final. The Bogans also did a very bad job of covering up how much it meant to them to be in the final, with shouts of “let’s do it, guys” Serious Simonesque comments of “come on we can do this one last match”, a team high 5 all round and a cheer later, it was a cock grab short of a homo erotic bunch of Ks trying to reach the height of orgasm not seen since a rural finger up the bum at a Nanjing medical test by a fellow tourist. Meanwhile now, the looseness of the FnB Bashers was starting to get a little out of hand, with more Jelly, extra beers from the table bar and someone who will not be named taking a shit in the woods behind the clubhouse. Rural.

The final began with Nanjing Bogans batting, who put up a good fight by posting a total of around 42 to defend. There were a couple of good knocks, a couple of shite ones and after the 5 overs they sensed they had what it took to defend their total. A clever bowling lineup saw Parrot assemble the Bashers into a mixed order to keep the Burkaman off strike and the run rate down. 43 to win.

43 to win, and with all the other possible Burka candidates having already been used up, the responsibility was left to Simon to don the black cape of sweaty dirty doom. Fruity and Simon got the innings off to a solid start, a couple of quick singles with the Burkaman now feeling less jellied out just at the right time. With the runs ticking along nicely, Fruity went for a wild swing and missed, bowled. However with the Burkaman still very much in at the crease, Bashers were still in control. Enter Skidmeister. The Skid. Skiddy. Skiddlydoo. Game over Bogans. Doing what he does best, getting behind the ball and skidding them off the square, Skiddy hit the final runs in the final over to win the tourno for Parrot’s Bashers and send the travelling Bashers fans into jelly raptures in the clubhouse. 40 odd for 1 off 4.2, and the Bashers were home and dry. Actually, not dry because it was piss wet through, and not home either. They were victorious.

That marked the end of proceedings, a very spaced series of cricketing genius by all involved. A whole team photo was shot which very much typified the whole event, and a guard of honour was given for the winning Bashers. Not much time for anything to go wrong, apart from a Bashers team photo that was spoilt by Joel the NJ Swamp creature, who decided to get his pecKer out and start windmilling it at us with PTGs present. Joel, if you’re out there reading this, keep it in your pants you vile cretin, no one wants to see it.

The bus back to the MARRIOTT hotel was a low key affair, a lot of jellied Ks enjoying some more fireballs listening to and singing classic tour songs. The main entertainment came from TSC (the swamp creature) getting his arse, balls, Kok, and bearing it to our bus from the other side of the RURAL NJ highway.


The post-day shenanigans and fines were to be held at a Mexican in town. The name escapes me, but I assure you that it sounded pretty Mexican. Some shit bants was offered up by the team captains over the Mic, some Bogan was most deservedly awarded loosest K of the day (he couldn’t speak on the bus and looked like he was about to have a stroke at any given point so fairplay to him) and then, the long-awaited Mexican all-you-can-eat freeflow tacos, burritos, mole poblano and pacifico beer began. Except, it was about as Mexican as Suzhou Graham’s pale white arse that he bared to the group during the day. Menu: Burgers (free-flow), Pizza (margarita) and Budweiser/Qingdao beers. Period. Despite the lack of a-la-carte options, the Bashers plowed on into a spontaneous fine session, with Bambi just about managing to keep his eyes open for the duration. With the Champions league final still 8 hours away and a long night in prospect, it was up to Nuts to kickstart one of his legendary fine sessions that have been said to last up to 6 hours of solid sipping. Paps was the main culprit to be singled out for his half-day effort and getaway, however as fresh as a daisy he made up for his lack of drinking by necking several beverages in succession. Nuts delegated the end of the fine session to Fruity, who drew the end to another 10 beers or so which more than compensated for the lack of tacos and good value for ¥138 free-flow. Burger Count: Nuts 4, Fake News 4, Paps 3.

Ruralometer: 80%


As the post-day free flow American came to an end, Bashers headed in different directions. Some back to the hotel after a hard day on the jelly, some to ¥10 Tsings that seems to be the new Perrys, and others scattered around getting looser and looser. It was clear that there was a few determined to stay up for the football, so with that in mind Paps got in a bottle of rum for the lads and settled in for storytime with Bambi (eyes shut) Skiddy, Simon and Suzhou Graham and Anon who will stay Anon for legal reasons. After a few drinks, a few loose conversations came up. Standard “have you ever” or “loosest tour moment” experiences came up, and a wild story about a Nanjing health check that ended with a Laowai holding a hand of his own sperm after a prostate exam with a ‘doctor’. Then, out nowhere, came: “have you ever had a compass up your bum before”. Roars of laughter circled, and it was made clear that this was never to be mentioned again. The conversation concluded with further incidents of premium liquor bottles heading towards areas via an accidental method. Bashers came home in dribs and drabs, passing the reception bar in various states of looseness. The fab 4, Lunchie, Fruity, Bhenchod & Simon, made it for the champions league final to see a lackluster Liverpool lose 3-1 to part time fan Skiddy’s Real. Lunchie insisted we watch the bar downtown in a bar that was certain to have an ‘atmosphere’, which was only found after some Baidu map navigating, and had 4 people in when we arrived.

Ruralometer: 85%


After a leisurely breakfast, a nice swim and seeing Graham’s pale corps once more, a goodbye was offered at Blue Frog and that was the end of tour. Bhenchod and PTG headed off to do some cultural exploration, museums, buildings, temples and all that other fun stuff siblings enjoy doing when on their jellies together.

For the last standing 6, Nuts, Birdy, Simon, Skiddy, Fake News & Paps, there was still 2 hours to get some more burgers and jelly in for the train ride home. Fake News was having none of the competition, and decided to take matters into his own hands and clear out the remaining fast food options at NJ railway station and runaway with the burger eating contest. As we were just about to board the train, Skiddy realised he had left his bag inside the train station, a brown, leather bag that, if you wanted to create panic in a train station, looks very much like an ideal bomb bag if one ever existed. The remaining 5 decided that, given Skiddy was unlikely to make it up and down the stairs to retrieve the bag in less than 3 minutes, we would sack him off and leave him in NJ. However, with barely seconds remaining, like a knight (slightly smaller and chubbier) in shining Bashers armour, he bolted back down the elevator and onto the train with the bag in hand. Birdy had the remaining Bashers in tears during the train sesh back home stating how hilarious it would have been if Skiddy had retrieved the bag donning the Burkha in full (still in Simon’s bag for keepsake) and been arrested for sparking Burka-related panic.

Ruralometer: 90%

A fine end to a fine tour, a great show from Bashers, and the sledge made it back to Shanghai accompanied by the Sean Connery shield of dreams for all to see at Cages.

Jelly good folks.


Bashers Awards: Nanjing Rurals 2018

Omega ~ Twitter award for persistent chirp

Birdshit ~ The most coveted award for Most rural basher

Paps ~ Anne Frank award for going into hiding

Fake news ~ Marcel Marceau award for talkativeness

Nuts ~ Donald Trump award for hitting the Mexican wall and having no tacos

Fruity ~ Looseness award for whitying and general behavioural antics.

Skiddy ~ Bin Laden award for NJ train station bomb scare

Simon Tucker ~ 7/11 award for normally going to bed before midnight but modernising to complete a 24hr straight sesh.

Parrot ~ Arya Bhatta award for lifetime mathematics

Bambi ~ Hellan Keller award for shit lyrical music and not being able to see

Lunchie ~ Karius award for his several tour clangers

Pope ~ Kamran Akmal award for consecutive dropped dollies.

Tampon ~ Lance Armstrong award for high-performance on several C+ drugs

Bhenchod ~ Bhenchod Cosby award for bringing his sister, and then drugging her in a hotel room.

Messi ~ Omega award for being a Grandad

Schlost ~ Emmet Smith award for back to the future and arriving before others had even set off.

Stingray ~ Kaytlin Jenner award for attending transgender seminars and wanting to wear pink

PTG ~ Madeleine Mccann award for being led astray so easily.

Rooty ~ Special K award for being a flake.

Road Trip!





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