We go into day five, day 11 of the Ashes series, and Australia is about to win.

They're about to win the Ashes after 11 days of cricket.

England need 228 runs tomorrow and Australia need four polls.

When I look at the health of cricket and test match cricket in this country,

there have been 200,000 pigs go to the Adelaide Oval, singing, dancing, frolicking, probably doing bags,

heaps of it, out the back of it.

It's front page news, it's back page news, it's storylines. It's conversations in bars and cafes and bus stops. Conversations in bus stops. It's the blobby league's kicking off. You know, like there's one of the all-time great games. 500 runs in a 40-over game last night. Wildermouth, who is it? Will the Beast? Kippa Connie looks good. Nathan Lyons spinning Australia's a

victory. I'm getting graphics about he's getting close to warn for fourth innings, wickets

in test match history. We get to learn that Nathan Lyons being called Phil now for some reason,

whilst Maris has been an absolute pest on the stunt mic. Christmas is in fucking six days, five days.

I don't know what day it is already. People knocking off work. I'm knocking myself off. You know

what I mean? This is magnificent. Look what this sport means to so many people around the world,

including to our English brethren, who are enjoying this nonetheless whilst getting spanked by

Daddy. That's right. We're Daddy now. Sort of. But I'm... brethren who are enjoying this nonetheless whilst getting spanked by daddy.

That's right.

We're daddy now, sort of.

But I'm having a great time, Pezzar.

I've just spent the entirety of my Saturday watching and breathing in the cricket, and it's

just fucking great.

Well said, mate. I mean, let's have it right as Australia, you know, sits on the precipice of

another Ashes annihilation here at home. England will always be Australia's fathers until

this nation becomes a Republican changes its flag.

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