But Graham...just hear me out Graham.
You'd shit yourself, wouldn't you Graham? Playing for Australia. You'd shit yourself. Just let that torrent of brown gush down your leg. Retake your mark, next ball. You'd block it in to the splodge. That'll f**k the ball Graham, wouldn't it? Genius stuff. But play on in my book.
Wouldn't you Graham?
Not even a moist towelette dab at the drinks break. Not even a whore's wash at lunch. Same strides, slipped on...diarrhoea and all. You're playing for Australia Graham.
Am I right Graham? Am I right? Surely, as a man, I'm right. Shit yourself. No man uses a toilet. No man succumbs to stomach cramps. Just a quick slug of Tooheys Blue and get on with it. Puddle of shit at the popping crease? Who cares Graham? WHO CARES?!?!?! Is it me? I dunno Graham.
Shit...it's just pooh. It might smell but you're batting for your country. It's a test match...WAR!!! No poop breaks. Allan Border would clench that mud dot. Worse case scenario, Greg Ritchie would lick shit off the captain's leg like a cat with the bowl of cream. Geoff Marsh...Wouldn't dream of running off to the shitter. Tubby...Haydos...JL... they'd all just pretend it never happened AND score a ton Graham. Would you?
I dunno Graham. Long sigh. Even longer pause. I just dunno.