Elephant Hunters,
No one will remember where they were on Monday when MJ Clark did some kind of extravagant dance down the pitch like a latter-day Nureyev, and was stumped all-ends-up for 44 on the fourth day of the Perth Test Match.
Why would you?
Best not to ponder all that capital expended in the first two tests for no result at all, only to be flogged mercilessly in the last.
Moments when there's blood on the floor and all hope is lost are best forgotten, and consigned to history.
Never mind...
a) RT Ronting's (aka "Cap'n'Cockhead"] woeful form with the bat in his final series before finally realising the jig was up and, at last, shuffled off to the State Sunset Home for the Bewildered, given that he'd suddenly become old and blind.
b) MJ Clarke's captaincy - hitherto without fault - being found out big time by the Seth Efreakens in their 2nd innings even though he had nothing to work with; them getting away with 250 runs more than they should've still a blotch on his otherwise sparklingly stellar series.
c) a top order that's not right for England.
d) or the lamentable return of muddle-headed selection policy, where a perfectly good pace attack was entirely replaced by B-graders on the sole grounds that they were too weak to back up.
Lawd, save us, in this girlie day and age.
Were not the last rabble of selectors sacked for just that?
And the irony is that one of the current bunch, Pup, lost his first test series through, very broadly speaking, no fault of his own.
Not much point in speculating about these things here, as they will no doubt be among the terms of reference for the forthcoming Royal Commission into the Whacking at the WACA.
Suffice to say, it's never very pleasant to cop a gigantic tusk up the runter from a mob of kaffir-kickers.
Whatever they do with the Boys from Ceylon won't rate; and remember, the Dark Satanic Mills of Engerland lurk just around the corner...
