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I dont like cricket I love it

Ahh h'e got the runs. Look out for da battey boy aight!. Wicket like.

Essex vs Australia, in a friendly at the Chelmsford Cricket Ground, Essex, England, UK, Europe, The World.

Cricket spectating is a fab sport. If drinking exorbitant amounts of Pimms, sitting on your arse chatting sweet, sweet FA seems like a good idea, then this was fabalicious.


Being an uncouth ragamuffin, Beer was the quencher of choice. Twas a hot day after all.

When i arrived at the Cricket ground at 9:30 am on a Sunday, I had already concluded that i needed to know the price of oranges in China before the day was out. I walked up to the bar in much the same anticipation as i go towards any bar, besides the ones made of iron on the other side of the white and blues. I was dismayed, my early morning rise had insulted by those damnable english serving laws. I was in a state of... of sobriety looking at a field.

In my mind i was running, running, running sinking deeper and deeper into my own personal hell, comparable only to closing time

Time was of the essence, fourtunately i could see through this game of optical brightners and had fourtunatly been followed to the match by my friend and cohort, who with the aid of a spare ticket and his mobile solved the dilema by cordially inviting another friend, an x-school colleague to the game, bar condition they swing by Sainsburies and pick up bevvies.

It was the biggest save of the day, i dont know who won the match, probably Australia.

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