pursuit of happiness...

So, I don't really understand what's going on in the Ashes. I don't really understand cricket. I think you may be disappointed if you thought I was going to comment on bowling technique and wickets and suchlike things. One good thing about this quite dull competition, however is that some cricketers are quite pretty.

Firstly (and most importantly) is young Mr Alastair Cook. He has a nice face, and as far as I can tell is pretty damn good. This is his face. Mmhmm, yes.




Then there's Stuart Broad. Injured, but still hot. In my mind, he is the Draco Malfoy of cricket. They look quite similar, no?


I don't think we need another example (mostly because that would involve looking up more cricketers and frankly, who can be arsed?).

I'm back home now, and missing campus life dreadfully. I also miss the oddballs of flat 33, amongst whom I never lose my temper or raise my voice. I miss my highly uncomfortable bed and stash of seasonal alcohol. I miss watching grainy Jonathan Creek on Youtube with my flatmates before staying up in the oppressively small corridors all night pretending to be appalled while the boys talk about poo.

Home sucks. Home really, really sucks. In the past hour, the words "Stop that fucking coughing" and "What the fuck have you bastards done with the paracetamol" have been screamed by my mum who is in a particularly pleasant mood. I'm not sleeping either because of this "fucking cough", so I'm in a bit of a grump.

No matter, have some pretty music:

Goodnight everyone, may you sleep well and dream sweet dreams. Of Cricketers...