THE WEAK IN SPORT with Dr Yobbo (and unnecessary capitalization) has been relaunched as the ALL NEW (though still with unnecessary capitalization) Dr Yobbo's World of Bollocks.
Well, partially new. We've changed the font on the header.
Oh yeah, we did a new logo too, but Eddie McGuire won't let us use it.
No idea why not. What a total funtcase.
In any case we here at The Random Bucket Of Slop Formerly Known As The Weak In Sport would like to announce that the random bucket of slop formerly known as The Random Bucket Of Slop Formerly Known As The Weak In Sport (or is that the random bucket of slop formerly known as The Random Bucket Of Slop Formerly Known As The Random Bucket Of Slop Formerly Known As The Weak In Sport?)... totally lost my train of thought. Bugger.
Anyway we're changing the name to Dr Yobbo's World of Bollocks. Why? Basically, in order to more easily extend our terms of reference beyond the narrow, if rich, pickings of the sports field. And because if we have to write another piss-poor Weak pun (such as the headline above) we will be violently ill all over our laptop.
Naturally this has nothing to do with sitting through the last six turgid, predictable days of Test Cricket leading to turdid, predictable results (a shellacking and a pointless draw respectively), desperately waiting for something interesting to happen and/or write about beyond the pathetic display of handbags between Skwarne and the Saffer Formerly Known As Skunkboy. Of course, World of Bollocks will still be talking lots of bollocks about those in Sport who are Weak, it's just that we'll be taking aim at issues more universal than the burgeoning size of Warnie's arse, the continuing adventures of Russell 'Rabbitoh' Crowe (and his band, who are a fucking pile of shit) and the unanswerable conundrum of which of the Schumacher brothers is the biggest knob.
And no, we don't think swearing is the sign of a limited vocabulary.
Fuck off.
The Doctor is OUT.
5 comments:
Within half an hour of putting this up, England were 5/77. So much for six turgid, predictable days of cricket leading to a turgid, predictable result...
Ahem. Yes.
So England win the toss, bat first on the road to end all roads, declare at 6/551 after batting for two days plus, lead on the first innings... and still manage to lose the game? While their idiot fanbase cheerfully (and pointlessly) sing along regardless?
You can't coach that kind of ability to wrench defeat from the jaws of victory. You can't teach that sort of incompetence, ineptitude and astonishingly poor capacity for carpe diem-ing-ness. (?)
The Reverse Midas Touch™.
You've either got it or you ain't.
England, to state the bleeding, haemorraging, catarrh-spitting obvious, have got it. As a race, they were born with it. They've had it bred into them from the moment they fell out of the womb and were breastfed too long. Or maybe it's genetic. In any case, they're shit. And that's all that needs to be said about the matter.
Other than: Marto HAS to go.
But you knew that anyway.
Doctor OUT.
PS Yeah, this whole 'oh we're not only writing about sport anymore' thing's just flying along ain't it...
So ... Watson in for Marto? he certainly can't bat any worse - allowing him to chime in with some moderate medium pace to take the pressure off Glenn McGrath's heel, Brett lee's hair, Shane Warne's forehead and Stuart Clark's ... we'll keep you posted. He hasn't been around long enough to have an annoying habit yet. Although - he is making Stuart McGill's slap to legside look positively Bradmanesque :P
Clark No E reminds me of... your average bush cricketer from Lismore, funnily enough. Zero pretentions, even less srills, slogs his guts out, and a suitably agricultural approach to the willow-related arts.
Let's not be knocking MacDuff's patented cowshot - so called because it recalls a dairy farmer shovelling shit out of a milking shed - after all didn't it secure NSW a Pura Cup a year or two back?
Watson for Marto, Symmo for Marto, ANYONE for Marto. Your mum for Marto. He really has not learned anything in 12 years. That was SCG '94 all over again. Get rid of the bastard. In fact get rid of the three arseholes who nobody likes - not coincidentally the three consistent failures in the batting lineup - and get somebody in there who can play some fucking cricket. Phil Jaques springs to mind.
That's probably 'frills' that Clark No E has even less of. Not 'srills'. I don't know what 'srills' are.
In unrelated news, I hate Ronaldinho. Yes, again. That dive to win the free kick against Bremen in the Champions League Of Champions, which gave them the opener, would have been comical if it wasn't stomach-churningly wrong that he got away with it. What a cunt.
Then again, even if he marries a six foot Scandinavian supermodel, he's going to have fuckin' ugly children.
So NYAAAHHH you horse-faced gimp.
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