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Australia vs. England: The Ashes of our soul

I’ve spent the last 48 hours stocking up on cans of tuna, tomato, corn and any food product that is in can-form such that my house now resembles aisles 2 and 3 of my local CostCo. I’ve also bought 37 rolls of paper towel, an endless supply of IKEA furniture to assemble, then use the instruction pictures to create a long running stick-figure-on-paper soap for entertainment, and I’ve also bought some ski gear from Aldi…partly because it gets cold but also because I thought it was so freaking awesome that you could buy ski gear for $70 from a supermarket. Anyway I now feel fully confident that I could survive roughly 4 years in my makeshift bomb shelter and never leave home. I urge you to do the same. Why invoke such a precaution? Because the end of the world is nigh, people. The end of the world is nigh. 

To put it shortly:

2012 Olympics, Lions Tour, Wimbledon, Tour de France, British Open, Ashes…and of course a royal baby. England are apparently on top of the (sporting) world.

So yes, the end of the world must be nigh. It is so fucking ‘nigh’ that 18th Century English has infiltrated my common vernacular, and before you know it I’ll be talking like Shakespeare [probably like one of the bogan characters that seems to just say things like ‘hop scotchy scotchity potch’ to say ‘good morning’] and my square bracketed side thoughts [that I often do in this format] will become soliloquies requiring Spark Notes to interpret.

But seriously….WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? I grew up in a time when Steve Waugh accepted nothing less than a 5-0 whitewash as a victory, our Olympic team only competed against themselves and the US and the only ‘sport’ England seemed to be good at were achieving the records for the World’s Worst Teeth per Capita (~0.95) and Lowest Yearly Bathing rate (~2 baths per year…one for Birthday one for Christmas). At school it was taught as a biological fact that an Englishman could not possibly catch a ball or run further than 100 metres without exasperating “Blimey this much further than 100 [idiot-imperial-system] yards, I think I might stop and have a warm pint instead”. It was just genetically impossible.

However now it appears that Doctor Who came out of his telephone box to trap the entire world in a vortex of ‘Opposite Days’ and we find ourselves in a position where England is winning everything and Australian sporting teams are the ones with their heads down, shaking their heads, lamenting how crap they are, blaming everyone but themselves and seemingly spiralling into a world of self-sabotage. This is just not the natural order.

This realisation prompted me to do some English-tabloid-style investigative research [ie. I did nothing and maybe eavesdropped on some water-cooler conversations]. English sporting achievement is not the natural order of things because it’s not natural. They’ve been using performance enhancing measures to gain an unfair advantage. No not drugs. Worse….They’ve been using Australians. England copied every single Australian sporting institution and grass-roots sporting framework, they stole our best coaches with their European-shit-kicker-economy-money and created a society of what are basically Australian-esque sportspeople. And where they couldn’t breed Australians, they invoked the Queen to help them import talent from the empire – Australia, India, South Africa, South Africa, South Africa, South Africa, South Africa, South Africa [seriously when England cricket ‘tours’ South Africa it’s basically a domestic cricket match].

In other words: England owes EVERY victory to us.

And if they couldn’t use us they would just the rules and say “sorry guys, today we’re not going to compete as ‘England’ where going to compete as ‘Britain’ and take all the good players from our neighbouring countries because all of ours are shit”. Why can’t Australia and New Zealand join up to make a rugby team (probably still called ‘New Zealand’)?

But how do we restore things to the natural order? How do we escape this disgusting vortex of sniggering, gloating Poms, who call peeling sunburn a ‘tan’ and wear red tops so small that you can see the bottom of their guts trying to escape from just above where their belts should be? I know. The first thing to do is obvious – become a Republic. I think all Australians would get so much joy from double-birding the motherland and saying “you may have won this test but fuck you, your empire sucks!” that we probably wouldn’t need a Referendum or even a vote. The second thing to do following this, is more simple and is really just following the law – we retrospectively resettle all illegal boat arrivals (ie. those who have been caught cheering any English victory) to PNG. Then we copy the English model and bring in more refugees and increase general migration and who knows…maybe we’ll have players that are less concerned with making-idiotic-tweets/punching-strangers/playing-childish-pranks-on-teamates/wasting-taxpayer-money and may actually win.

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About Arani Satgunaseelan (78 Articles)
Corporate nerd. Wannabe blogger.

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