Before The Cricket

So I'm soon to do a bunk and meet up with some friends to go here. I've decided that I'll be wearing shorts. My comrade spy Nat however, reckons kilts are good man clothing. Usually I reckon she pretty much hits the mark but in this debate I disagree with the lovely spy mistress. I'm not wearing a woollen dress to the cricket. Its too freakin' hot for such clobber. If I was in cauld, cauld Scotland it may be a different matter but Sydney in the full blast of summer is not a kilt kind of place. Besides that it would only confuse my mate from Tasmania who just touched down . My other friends would probably tease me. Being a sensitive soul I wouldn't stand up to their torment and would run away with tears running down my face. Not a nice image.
The venue itself will be a hot place today, getting up past 30 celsius. They only sell light beer in the public areas thus forcing us to make use of hip flasks so that we can have a few drams to brace ourselves for the combat against Seth Eflicka. I'm looking forward to seeing how the young Dave Warner goes on his home ground. I'm just wondering if he'll belt out his trademark hit "Suburban Boy" with the classic line "I know what its like, to be rejected every night. I'm sure that it must be, easier for boys from the city". Let's hope he does well.
In Finance news the all ords are slipping again and there's a few more empty seats around the bureau. Luckily my seat is safe. I'm told its because I don't wear kilts.