Gold'n green spiral

I went to bed about when Shane Watson came because I didn't have a very good feeling about things. There seemed to be some sort of Fibonacci thing happening where the number of runs scored since the previous wicket was half the number of runs scored since the wicket before that, and that sequence does not have a happy ending. I thought: if they don't lose any more wickets, they can manage without me, and if they do lose any more wickets, I can't help them and I can't cope with seeing it.

As good as that opening partnership looked and was, it was hard to get rid of the feeling that just one wicket would break the spell and that without the talismanic power of Warner in particular we'd be back in the desert of the real. Was there ever a glummer No. 3 than Usman Khawaja? Isn't that supposed to be where you put the best batsman? Isn't he supposed to be a reassuring presence? Why can I not put aside the depressing suspicion that they leave the better batsman down the order so that there's someone to clean up the mess after the traditional top order collapse. Or, equally depressing, to protect injuries.

Mark Waugh tipped the series before it started to be a 2-2 draw if he was betting with his heart and a 3-1 loss if he was betting with his head. It seemed sensible at the time and it would be nice to get one at least.

Chapelle's Beauty Spot

Moving right along, what about the set of GEM's cricket anchors? I expect Chenille from the Institut de Beauté and House of Hair Removal to be along any moment. Perhaps she will materialise out of the alien life-form on Skype in the background. Just what kind of show is this?

The picture above is from last night, but the night before the two Ians actually colour-coordinated their ties with the decor, thus reinforcing the overall womb-like pink glow.

Perhaps it's to create a supportive environment for when the Australian viewer feels the urge to adopt the foetal position.