Let's nip this one in the bud right now.
Shane Warne has absolutely, positively never, ever, ever taken drugs - in my presence.
With his mum, well that's another yarn altogether.
A good Aussie boy always listens to his mum, so if she was gettin' into his ear you can't blame him for scoffin' the bikky.
If anyone should be banned it's his naggin' mother. She can't bowl anyway, so she won't be missed.
County cricket, I guess
Old Warney's a bit of a numbskull for not knowing hydrochlorothiazide and amiloride are forbidden. Everyone knows that.
Still, I can see what he sees in those diuretics.
When I was an impressionable young pubertal back in Wodonga, we used to have diuretic parties all the time.
We'd sit around the bonfire with EasyListening FM on the radio, tellin' jokes and runnin' to the dunny all night long.
The Aussies'll have to do it now without his leggies, but the way things have gone so far we may as well take the trophy home now.
Rivals are droppin' like flies.
The Springboks are a sorry lot, India are homesick as usual and Namibia just aren't the team I thought they were.
But creepin' up from behind like a Kiwi fella on a sheep farm are those Black Caps.
I dead set thought they were no-hopers after Sri Lanka stuffed 'em, but they've got that Antipodean fire in their bellies.
And then there's England.
I've never seen a bunch of blokes carry on like pork chops as England did over their Zimbabwe game.
Yes we will. No we won't. Can we play next door? Honestly, I've seen slumbering sloths make decisions quicker than the Poms.
It was good to see 'em back out on the park, beatin' the living daylights out of the Dutch blokes.
If they can stop their cryin', they just might shock a few people in this tournament.