Travelling tittle-tattle, tall tales and shameless name-dropping by Jon ‘Don’t Call Me’ Norman

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Sunday, 26 December 2010

The mob

There were 84,000 in the MCG today. About 7,000 down on what could have been a world record for a cricket match in this country. With Australia seemingly down and out the ground had emptied by 4pm. The moron to captain sensible ratio by this point was around evens.

Australian, English, northern, southern, drunkards, teenagers & oldens all united in their capacity to act the fool. The fun police, security guards and what looked like riot officers all earned their holiday pay today. Relentlessly they trooped into the crowd to turf out a goon or two. Those escorted from the premises seemed almost relieved that they could leave. To a man they’d salute their fellow morons and head off home with a crap story to tell.

It all washed over me though. I was once again too transfixed by the cricket to care about the beer snakes. During breaks in play while drunken Aussies tried to get a Mexican Wave started I spent my time trying to remember a more one-sided day’s play (in England’s favour). And when the sun disappeared behind the ground and the lunatics began to take over the asylum I sought refuge in the press box so I could watch the remainder in peace. I might have been up since 1am but I think I might treat myself to a relaxing pint or two. And to hell with the price.

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