Bashers v. Charmtheirowncocksoff Cheataaahs by Hardon

• WHAT: Bashers v. Cheaters
• WHEN: Recently/the other day
• WHO: …Um, I’m gonna say Chirag?
• WHERE:  Up ya bum
• WHY: because we’re kunts

The Bashers lobbed up to that pommiest of  playgrounds, Wellington College, grinning like a bunch of shot foxes and ready to show those Cheater Galahs (bless their cotton socks),  a bit of what’s what and get one up ya’s ya mongrels. After several apparent practice goes, either Fisty or the other boofhead, won the toss and we were off like a brides’ nightie on her wedding night. Fair suck of the sauce bottle or not, after a brief Captain Hook of the pitch the boys in blue were sent in to bat.

At this stage a ripsnorter of a Captain’ s speech ensued in which the Fistmeister ensured us all we were better than ham sandwiches and that all we had to do was not cock it up, and that those finch pinchers from Charmhisownassoff had buckleys.

Fisty and Nuts, looking as fit as a couple of Mallee bulls, went in and quickly made themselves busier than a couple of barefoot centipedes on a Barbie plate to get the Bashers off to a cracker.  Now I’d love to share some statistics, like scores and bowling figures with you here, but seeing as I only know Chirag’s because he was kind enough to put his correct figures on the chat (muchappreciatedthanksfordoingthatforevertbody), let me just tell you that even Bradman got a duck. Once again our batting proved to be as dry as a nun’s nasty and pretty soon the wickets began to disappear faster than farts in a fan factory. We managed however to put up a fairly defendable score of …something.

Then the other guys went in to bat.

It didn’t take long to realize we were in it like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Plenty of get up and go was on display here with much fine bashers bowling and fielding on display. Giraffe bowled particularly well, as mentioned in the chat by, um, Giraffe – he was even on a hattrick at one stage. But those cunning dunny rats the Cheaters were just too good and though we had them down for 5, the cockgobblers eventually cruised past the target with an over or so to go.

So that’s that, there you go. We gave it a fair crack of the whip but unfortunately ended up on the Werribee duck end of the stick, and the only thing left to do was choof off.

By the way, Omega’s dad was there which was good to see.

Also, I made a pasta salad that Fakey ate because he was hungry enough to eat the arse out of a low flying duck.

Go Bashers!

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