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Friday, 11 March 2011

CWC & XRAY Scanners

How much more can the English cricket fan take? Their offering of 225 seemed meagre at best - good to see Morgan chipping in - but it was still a defendable total. Bangladesh looked dead and buried at 169-8 (their supporters heading for the exits) but somehow they pulled off a cracking victory with an over to spare. The post mortem, like a stuck record, refers to bouncing back (according to Shakin Stevens, "Lovely stuff") but it's becoming increasingly difficult to take them seriously as a decent one day side.

One of the good things about being Irish is that our sporting expectation level (for the most part) isn't very high. A shit result is grumbled about for a while and then forgotten about, while an unexpected triumph (most recently against England) will be passed down through generations, maybe even a ballad or two composed. I fancied us to get a result against the Windies this morning, but unfortuantely it doesn't look like we'll emulate the heroic feats of 2007. Onwards to the Millennium stadium tomorrow to do battle with the Welsh.

At this stage in the competition it's very hard to pick a winner. This is also reflected in the odds the bookies (bet365) are offering: India 11/4; S Africa 4/1; Australia 9/2; Sri Lanka 5/1. For those that fancy an outside bet, England are 11/1.

Now for a complete change of theme. I watched a bit of the Bang-Eng game online this morning until the stream and constant ads started to fuck me off. However, I was intrigued by one ad for the... XRAY SCANNER (has Viz anything to do with this?). The ad makes this bold statement in Spanish:

Desviste a quien quieras. Ahora podrĂ¡s ver bajo la ropa con tu celular.

Basically, if you are the proud owner of this device, you can find out what someone's wearing under their clothes. It must be the real deal because there's a picture showing a mobile phone being held up in front of a tasty young sort, and you can clearly see her underwear beneath her other clothes. The only drawback I can see is the act of getting a bird to stand still whilst you ogle her without her thinking you're the type of bloke who peers through bedroom windows, feverishly wanking himself off.

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