cricket with balls

Yes this post contains satirical penetration and other sex stuff. Not for kids, honest catholic priests or politicians courting the religious right vote. Part of the ‘in bed with‘ series.

It’s been a big night. Drinks, drugs, making out with casual strangers, but all night I’ve had eye contact with a cool looking motherfucker in the corner. Eventually he makes his way over to me, he doesn’t say anything he just grabs my hand and takes me outside into a cab.

The cab starts moving the minute I get in it and so does he, I’m naked straight away. There isn’t a part of my body that he isn’t pleasuring, and all at once. Fuck. Oh my god he is eating me out and licking my nipple at the same time. Is that possible how many people are in the car. Oh my. Is that a ferret? Praise be to… This has to be like 4 people, fucken hell that must be a vibrator, is the cab driver joining in. where am I, wow. Oh my, that is amazing, oh I’m cumming, seriously that is a ferret. Every orifice is full, how can that even be? Is that a frozen banana being held by a monkey? OW, ohhhh, cumming again. Oh and again. Shitting hell. That is a midget in the corner with a video camera? Oh that’s good, oh really good, oh who cares what is going on this is the best fuck I have ever….

And he’s gone.

Midway through an orgasm.

Prick.

The taxi has all the signs of sexual carnage in it you could imagine. The driver is gone, and I look out the window, I am only around the block from the club.

Is that right?

I would have sworn we had gone for much longer.

I think that was great, I’m just not sure what happened, or what to do with the rest of the night.

Nothing is better than a romantic test match.

Something tropical, laid back, with music, and Sulieman Benn.

And we had it.

But the Viv ground is a hopeless romantic.

It forgot the flowers.

Misplaced the present.

Didn’t know it was the 14th.

And pretty much ruined the most holy day of the year, valentines day.

Now on saturday night, when we should be watching the cricket with our little lady/little man/ little blow up doll/ little butt plug, we will be watching some post 911 rom com where Jennifer Aniston and Dermot Mulroney walk past the word trade centre and sigh, before breaking up, getting back together, breaking up, and then shagging on the American flag as a Phil Collins song plays.

Thanks Antigue, you have ruined my foreplay methods, like most men, I can’t get laid without showing the ladies a test match.

In the past you knew you had made it when you made a test century, your teammates relied on you, the biggest paper in the country proclaimed you a superstar.

Those days are long gone.

Now you know you’ve made it when people start googling your name, with the words naked, nude, oiled up.

That is how we knew Tim Southee, Ishant Shamra, and JP Duminy had made it.

Now you can add one more name, Callum Ferguson.

I have had 3 searches come here for that, even though i have never talked about Callum nude, naked, or oiled up.

No offence Callum, I just don’t think of you that way.

Not yet.

But the ladies, and/or gay men, do.

That means you have made it.

Why anyone thinks a 24 year old cricketer who no one knew a fortnight ago would have naked photos up on the internet is anyone’s guess?

But they do, and he don’t.

Welcome to the big league Callum, where your naked form and whether you have a girlfriend is going to be typed into google everytime you are at the crease.

That’s way cooler than the old days, all they did was collect cricket cards, and the players were fully clothed.

I love McCullum.

Not in a metrosexual “I wanna have his tattoos” kinda way.

Or in an “I wonder what his semen tastes like” kinda way.

But as a batsman, an entertainer and an artist, I love him.

I think I said

“Watching him is like watching two people have sex in a car crash, there are so many ways it can go wrong, but somehow everyone walks away fine, and you can’t believe what you’ve seen.”

But the problem with my McCullum love, is that when he goes out, I seem to lose all interest in New Zealand.

As a cricket team, a country, an Island and as a people.

They just fade away.

It’s like when there is a group of friends in a bar. At the time you are nice to all of them, but you only have your eye on one. Once that one gets sick of your piss and vinegar seduction style and tells you to trot off, you don’t move onto the next friend, you find a new group of friends to hit on, or go home and look up porn.

Or if you get lucky, you take that one home and forget about the friends, but secretly wish one of the friends would have come back so you could see what kind of partnership they would put on.

When McCullum is up and about, you could watch him bat with anyone, even Aaron Redmund, but once he is gone even Ross Taylor doesn’t get you excited.

And it’s a hard act to make Ross Taylor platonic.

When I still wrote off McCullum as an accumulator of 30 odds, Taylor was my favourite kiwi.

Now he fades into beige at the mere mention of McCullum.

I was also a big fan of the perfect boyfriend Jacob Oram.

I liked his lusty big hits, and even ignored his delicate bowling.

Now though, all I see in him is a dude who can’t play short pitch bowling and who falls apart like a piece of origami that’s been pissed on.

So with all that in mind, I am going to watch Battle Royale, as only Battle Royale can give me the sort of violent art that Prince Brendan robbed me of by nicking a wide.

• Soap
• Lysol
• Brillo pad
• A refiner’s fire
• 100 Hail Mary’s
• Night out drinking Chumbawamba cocktails on an empty stomach
• Concussion from Brett Lee or James Anderson
• That flashy blinky thing from “Men In Black”
• Lobotomy

If, however, IF I happened to be into the kind of thing that you, googler, are clearly into (and I’m saying nothing), and if you happened to google any of the following, the answer would be ohgodyesplease:

• Vettori Oram Miriam Threesome (needs absolutely no explanation)
• Dhoni Gony Miriam Threesome (oh the pretty ones)
• Dirty Dirk Eyelids Miriam Threesome (I have a thing for the Vics in England, so sue me)
• Ryder Chawla Miriam Threesome (I can’t begin to explain this even if I tried, and I probably shouldn’t).

Other wacky google searches from today:

why are some men so vain (because they are trying to compensate for something)

england v new zealand chasing inflatable jelly bean (oh, alright, it’s here)

and all of the following:

1. cricketer’s sisters supermodels
2. cricketer’s supermodel wives
3. south african cricketer sister supermodel
4. supermodel sister of famous cricketer
5. supermodel wives to famous cricketers
6. which cricketer has supermodel sister
7. which cricketer sister and wife are supermodels?

(as you want to know so badly, your persistence is rewarded: you are probably looking for Cindy Nel, but (a) she’s no longer Jacques Kallis’ girlfriend, and (b) I’m not actually sure that she is Andre Nel’s sister. The other possibility I can think of is Neil McKenzie, whose sister Megan is a model. Honestly, I am way too good to you people).