bad moon rising

Fellow aghastee's

Nothing good ever comes from a Super Moon.
Straya get thumped in the test cricket by an innings and then some in 2.2 days by the Seth Efreakens on a lovely batting deck in Hobart sparking a full-scale crisis of confidence and calls for ruthless recriminations, the south island of the Shakey Isles only confirms why hardly anyone lives there with an apocalyptic size tremblor right bang smack on the full moon, and a member of a "prominent Sydney crime family", which turns out to only be the Mafia, cops it up the runter in a "hail of bullets" coming from a schmick Audi cruising past in broad moonlight on a street behind the Coles supermarket in the next suburb over from my gaff.
Just ask Smiffy, the good burghers of Christchurch, and Pasquale Barbaro Jnr...they'll tell you.
The Good Lady Wife also blames the bad moon rising, saying somehow, somewhere along the way the team got on the wrong side of the Cricket Gods, as they stare down the barrel of the first home series white-wash by Seth Efreaker in centuries.
There's a lot to be said for that theory, but it's a bit too superstitious for mine.
Maybe someone, somehow, somewhere along the way forgot about the concept of first class cricket.
It's as if Cricket Australia and the Board of Control have entirely neglected to remember and honour the great Lord Sheffield and his Shield.
>From one who doesn't mind a drink in a crisis, the knee-jerk solution is, of course, to sack the lot of 'em.
Swampy, Boof, and the greatest hanger-on in the history of Australian cricket, Low Performance Manager, Pat Howard, must all be GORN by Xmas.
The Chairman of the Board, The Board, and Mr Sutherland and his myriad of acolytes and cronies might as well all follow them out the back door without so much as a sausage.
The Stats Guru has been whirring the abacus, and the ancient abacus he uses never lies.
He has calculated that the collective batting average of the top six Strayan batsmen in the first two tests is, you guessed it, 23.70.
And if it wasn't for a couple of half-way decent knocks by Dave "Boy from the Burbs" Warner, Smiffy, and the Token Muzzie, it would have been closer to zero.
You can draw yr own conculsions from that.
Never mind that the previously much feared Strayan bowling attack is old, tired, injured, and/or underdone.
All power must be returned to the Captain, as it should be, and has always been, until the Honky Dollar [or more accurately, the de-monetised high-denomination Rupee] took over the game.
Having switched the telly off in disgust, never did see SPD Smith on interview after the match.
They say Smiffy went just about as ballistic as the skippy can go ballistic in public, but having read the transcript, his words seem to be rather more sober and measured to me:

Joisus, the Pink Stink dead-rubber in Adelbrain will be a whole lotta fun.
Needless to say, none of this would ever have happened back in the day when Pup was in charge...aaahhh...back in the day...