So much stuff has happened since I last posted. Mazhar Majeed, a century for Broad, Herschelle Gibbs' biography, Mickey Arthur's biography, the rise and rise of Test Match Sofa (who may be on the verge of world domination) and so on.
Day 3 at the Gabba, and all is going to shit. As we knew deep down it would. I'm trying to convince myself otherwise but we are well and truly fucked and it turned out to be a hedgehog, not a gerbil. Perhaps this is the one forgettable match, like Headingley was in 2009, but despite the excellent work of Jimmeh with the ball, I am fast losing hope.
So, kill me now. Let me die in peace, without having to see the repulsive face of a celebrating Ricky Ponting. It's tea now; lace it with cyanide, please.