I recommend David Fine's latest pieces, which he wrote soon after last Tuesday.
Here's an extract from "The English Disease":
Like syphilitic medieval kings, England
suddenly went mad. No apparent cause,
no seeming attempt to stem noble pause
in bedlam's frenzy to lose without stand.
Fumbling wickets tumbled from their own hand,
Misery's drubbing unconceived before
they gouged their own wounds to bone...
suddenly went mad. No apparent cause,
no seeming attempt to stem noble pause
in bedlam's frenzy to lose without stand.
Fumbling wickets tumbled from their own hand,
Misery's drubbing unconceived before
they gouged their own wounds to bone...
The poem elaborates upon the comment made by Greg Baum in the SMH and Age:
Like medieval royals with syphilis, they went suddenly mad. England lost its last nine wickets for 60, the same England that made 6-551 declared in the first innings.
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