cricket with balls

Mr Pakistan, a dashing figure with long flowing silky smooth hair and a three day growth, enters the room. He was fairly unsure of why he was there, and he also couldn’t remember how he got there, but there he was, in the room.

It was a white room with a signed picture of Paris Hilton in the corner, although the signature was from Shoaib Akhtar. There was also a chair, and Mr Pakistan sat down. As he did a projector started up and on it was Mark Nicholas swaying from side to side.

“Hello, Mr Pakistan, it is delightful to have you with us”.

Then Mark Nicholas just appeared in front of Mr Pakistan only inches from his face.

“Amazing and incredible, isn’t it?”

Mr Pakistan went to answer, but he didn’t understand the question and he was hypnotised by Mark Nicholas swaying in front of him.

“Today promises to be a special day”.

This is when Mr Pakistan decided to get up and leave, but he couldn’t. Instead Nicholas pushed him off the chair.

“Magnificent.”

With that a naked Jonathon Trott walked in. He was only naked from a genital and nipple point of view. He did indeed have covering on himself; he had cricket gear made out of used tampons. Enough tampons to make sure that Trott’s pads still looked oversized.

Nicholas walked up to Trott, gave him some biltong, and then gestured for Trott to lift each of his feet.

“This will do nicely.”

Nicholas puts Trott’s feet down, and puts his helmet on, before kissing the side of the grill.

“Here comes Jonathan Trott, who has been in spectacular form of late.”

Trott then starts mumbling to himself and circling Mr Pakistan on the floor.

Mr Pakistan seems quite confused by all this. He shouldn’t be.

After the longest time Trott seems to nod to himself and then gets up on Mr Pakistan’s chest. Mr Pakistan is in extreme pain, he tries to move, he can’t, he tries to scream, he can’t. He just has to stand there as Trott walks on his chest, taking this devastating pain.

Then Trott looks up and gestures to the umpire for leg stump. Mr Pakistan is thrown by this, and looks around and realises that he is on a cricket field, on the crease line, and then the pain gets worse as Trott marks his guard down Mr Pakistan’s chest.

“Brilliant”.

Over and over again.

Even though there is already a red mark on Mr Pakistan’s chest.

“Here comes Stuart Broad, what can he bring us today.”

Broad is wearing a giant nappy, and he carries two large buckets.

He stands over Mr Pakistan, and gives him a semi smile, before taking out a ball from one bucket, dunking it in what could only be faeces and then throwing it as hard as he can at Mr Pakistan.

Luckily, Broad fumbles the first few throws, and misses.

Mr Pakistan – who at this stage is realising his chest may not be able to take much more of Trott – is relieved that Broad can’t finish the job. But then a brown ball hits him in the face. And then another. And then another. Then, one more. And another.

Ball after ball hitting Mr Pakistan who can’t use his hands to stop any of them.

“Stuart Broad is putting on a masterclass today”.

Mr Pakistan cannot believe how much pain he is in, his chest is red raw, his face is swollen and cut, and has human waste seeping into his wounds, this is truly the worst situation he could ever be in. Then Trott splits his chest wide open.

The brown substance from Broad’s balls is now seeping towards that opening chest wound. Trott continues to take guard.

And why is Mr Pakistan in this situation? Is it his fault? What has he done to end up with this sort of punishment? I couldn’t have done anything to warrant this.

“Broad and Trott have become an unstoppable force.”

Also, Mr Pakistan thinks, how did they get Mark Nicholas?

Eventually Broad looks tired, but Trott stays strong.

“Broad is out, he has to go now, what an effort from the young man”.

Mr Pakistan is happy, but Broad doesn’t go, he just keeps on throwing balls at what is left of the face of Mr Pakistan. Mr Pakistan, who is still so paralysed he can’t close his eyes, eventually has them closed for him by blood and crap, and he just feels the balls hitting him as Trott continues to open him wider and wider.

“Simply the best from Trotty”.

Then the balls stop. Broad must have gone thinks Mr Pakistan, but he can still feel Trott on his chest.

“And here comes England onto the field, can they match the brilliant record breaking partnership that Trott and Broad produced earlier.”

Mr Pakistan is so freaked out by all the events that have gone on, that with English team arriving imminently to give him even more punishment, he decides it is better to just give up, and he dies. Right there, on the pitch, right as England make it to the middle.

England don’t seem to notice, they go about their business. Their business is re-enacting the entire High School Musical films.

There is poor Mr Pakistan, broken, dead, shit covered and having his lifeless body humiliated by out of key singing by Graeme Swann in the Zack Efron role.

“Oh boy, England are on fire now”.

All bad things must come to an end, and England stop their singing and leave the field. Except Trott. He goes back to the crease, and continues to mark his guard.

“What a special day of test cricket. We are blessed to get to see a day as magnificent as today. We hope you’ll tune in tomorrow”.