“Are you thirsty mate?”
Shane Warne leans over with a microphone in his hand and shoves it under the nose of Glenn Maxwell.
Australia have just won the World Cup and the Big Show finishes the tournament with an average of over 60 and a strike rate of 182. A very special performance by a very special man.
“Yeah mate. Reckon I am” says Glenn, despite not being required to bat in the match.
“Where should we drink Warnie?”
The camera shifts to Michael Clarke lying on the ground, having his back manipulated by Shane Watson. It’s a match made in heaven.
Mark Nicholas is standing at the ceremonial podium and introduces ICC Chairman N Srinivasan. The crowd jeers. He then introduces Sachin Tendulkar. No one really cares about him. The noise stifles Channel Nine’s ability to continue the Warne live cross so they stay with Nicholas.
Shane and Glenn continue their conversation away from the eyes of the watching world.
“I reckon you should come to this party I’m throwing at my charity headquarters. I’ve got hookers and all kinds of shit. All paid for by some generous donations. You should join us. Beefy will be there, as well as every other loose unit that hangs around in my stable. Wadda you think Maxy?”
“Warney, that sounds awesome. Will any IPL scouts be there? I mean, since I was bought for all that money a few years back, my life has been a roller coaster of high expectations and shithouse output.
But after this World Cup, I’m now ready to take it to the next level.”
Warney rolls his eyes.
“Maxy, this party is about me spending money generously donated to sick kids on you getting your end wet. No, there won’t be any IPL scouts. But I have invited John the Bookie. He’s always good for a laugh.”
Glenn nods to signal he clearly understands.
“Got it Shane. No dramas. I’m still in. I’ll just stop by the bottle shop and pick up something to drink”
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