Sledge Master

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Monday, 27 November: All my life I've been expecting the call. Selector Merv Hughes rang this morning. "The Poms aren't scared of us anymore," he said. "The zip has gone out of the attack, the middle order is useless. We need someone special." They wanted me to have a crack. There hadn't been a decent sledger since Hayden retired. Even he was piss weak compared with Steve Waugh. Legend. The world saw how I stuck it up Bush and called Howard an arse licker. Torched the Labor party, too. With so many Welshmen and 'Boks in the Poms' team, Merv said we needed someone whose message could cut through. Australia are two-nil down, and we have to win the remaining three Tests to regain the Ashes.

wednesday, 29 november: Had my first net this morning. I'd met Punter around the traps. Genius. Ricky introduced me to the team. Even though they didn't say much, I think the boys look up to me as an elder statesman, like A.B. or Boonie. I'm still fit. Four boys under six will do that. Although, like Michael Clarke, I've got Shagger's back. Seeing the ball really well, like the day I smacked 130 for Hurlstone Agricultural in 1978. Brett Lee's quick, even off a short run. After nagging away outside my off stump, Bing dropped one short. I went to pull it, the ball skidded on and hit me in the gooly. I was wearing a titanium protector, for extra confidence. Quality box. My left-arm pace was rusty, too much swing, couldn't pitch them on the stumps. Warney, 700 wickets (and counting!), gave me a nickname. "Extras," as in wide and no ball. Top bloke, even though he went to a private school.

friday, 8 december: Didn't make the 11 in Perth, so had to carry the drinks, like at the Green Valley pub. I got to field when McGrath was off for six overs after tea on the third day. I promised the Australian people no more crudity. It's been ages since I sledged guys so thick. Like Kevin Pietersen. Behind his back, Shane calls him BBC ("Brilliant But Creepy"). I was nervous, but I don't think the boys noticed. "Can't bat, can't bowl," I said to Freddie Flintoff when he was on nought. It did the trick. Flintoff was caught in the deep for 72. My first scalp. "Don't try and spin it so much," I told Warney at drinks. He'd never thought of that. Thirteen wickets to Shane for the Test. We'd won by an innings and 50 runs. I still hate Perth.

saturday, 23 december: Had a big night at Warney's place. After Janine and the other wives took their kids back to the Ho-Tel, Shane and I kicked on. He said he didn't realize I'd once been P.M. He was living in England after he split with Simone. I'm sure he was winding me up. "Never mess with politics," Shane said. "That stuff can get you in a lot of trouble." We talked about our mums and diets. I said he would have been captain if he hadn't taken the slimming pills. Then we ordered a pizza and watched music videos on his 2-m-wide plasma TV. Quality box.

wednesday, 27 december: My first Boxing Day Test. The Barmy Army was going off. "Who ate all the pies?" they sang. Gee, they're hard on Pigeon. I got my baggy green presented by Richie Benaud, but he didn't even want to shake my hand. Benaud was wearing a pink tie. Beazley was right, the bloke's in the closet. And he'd know. No wonder Kimbo bought a house in Sydney. Punter won the toss. We scored 676 for 8 on a belter; Langer and Ponting put on 350 for the second wicket. Magilla and I didn't even get to bat. Something's going on here.

saturday, 30 december: We won the Melbourne Test but I felt empty. Shane thanked me for the advice: pitch it into the rough. Warney also said he'd never heard a bloke sledge his own. Gilly had it coming, though. Leg-side stumping or catch off an inside edge, take your pick. Gilly is overrated. People think he's a saint. I'd walk on an LBW if we had 600 on the board as well. A ground microphone had picked up: "You've just dropped the Ashes, wingnut." It was spur of the moment. Ricky agreed it was harsh but true. At a press conference he basically said I was a dinosaur and not a team player. Well, he's from Tasmania. And as Shane says, a real pinhead, or two. One word Punter, my ex-friend: Edgbaston.

monday, 1 january: Warney's not returning my texts. Must still be out with K.P. Or maybe he's heard there's been more books written about Mark Latham than him. The boys from Liverpool Rugby Club are going out to the S.C.G. After being dropped, my heart isn't in it: feelings of betrayal and disappointment. I can't change a system that's sick. Steve Waugh came out and said Australia could win without me. Well, who got us back in the series? Tugger was dead to me after he said that. He's from Bankstown. Votes Liberal. Not a real Westie.

thursday, 4 january: The idiot selectors went for three spinners. There's no turn. Strauss and Trescothick, free of my taunts, put on 400 for the first wicket; there's rain forecast for the next week. Great for the farmers. Who cares? Might as well turn into a tsunami. England will retain the Ashes. Sod them all.