Names will so hurt me

Turns out there's more than one reason to dislike G. Bradley Hogg, Narrogin WA. He has a commentating gig on Grandstand and during a game - I remember not which - a batsman was hit by a ball in a sensitive area. Said Brad Hogg: *SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT ONCE KNOWN CANNOT BE UNKNOWN* "That was right on the tummy banana." Say it with me (now you've reached the point of no return): tummy banana. There are eight million penis euphemisms in the naked city; this has to be one of the worst. It will pop into your head unbidden and unwelcome and turn your smile into bile. I warned you.

Moving along from euphemisms, Mr Hogg also does a good line in malapropisms, though these are actually quite good and not grounds for dislike. He was talking about run outs he had known and the bad language that can go with them, and he said something along the lines of: "There would have been a few exquisitives." I like to think he meant sharp or finely crafted expletives, or perhaps, taking a different tack, quizzical expletives ("WTF", of course).

Later he said that Steve Smith's fidgetiness at the crease reminded him of Ricky Ponting, that they shared a lot of "incrasies". Incremental idiosyncrasies? (Philosophical question, Dylan-style: how many people can you share idiosyncrasies with before you can no longer call them idiosyncrasies?)

Other names

Like everyone else we've been calling Jim Glenn Maxwell "Big Show" in our house, because it's fun, but I've been looking for something else, because I'm contrary. Last night James Brayshaw said Maxwell "always brings the disco ball" to the game, so I'm thinking of switching to Disco. And saving Big Show for Jim. 

Still on the name thing. Last season we got into the habit of calling James Faulkner "Fuck off!", because we thought he looked like a bit of a dick, but over winter the meaning of the name changed, specifically when he told poor Ishant Sharma where to go with that 30-run over. Now he's done it again to England in Brisbane and we've warmed to old James "Fuck off" Faulkner, the scamp. He was compared to Michael Bevan after that game, but Bevan was more the slow, methodical burn, no? For me he was the Metronome rather than McGrath: the steady tick-tock that you hardly noticed until suddenly the impossible was in touching distance.

Brand names

I've kind of gotten used to BBL's Bunnings Warehouse Replay, but had to turn off the Fairfax radio coverage last night when we got a Power of Mushrooms Stat, even though the idea of a Ric Finlay on mushrooms was pretty funny.