T-2000

As people who read their newspaper from the back page will be very much aware, the country is currently gripped in the excitement of the ICC World Twenty20.

For those who take their sport only when forced upon them like sprouts at Christmas, the World Twenty20 is a cricket tournament where the games aren't longer than the lifespan of a small rodent, you don't have to stop for tea, and there is a definite winner at the end of it all.

Twenty overs (that's 120 balls) for each team, to either bowl the other team out, or score as many runs as possible by smacking the ball out of the ground at every opportunity, rather than just tapping it to the ground and wondering if the cucumber sandwiches have got the crusts cut off them.

No white flannel shirts and woolly jumpers, its all snazzy colours and floodlights.

They've even tried to make the name more exciting by shortening it to T20, possibly so it's not confused with 'Mad Dog 20/20', a drink so rough it will turn you blind, not give you the 20/20 vision you need to play this lightening fast game.

They could have shortened it even further to TT, but that's already been taken, and the last thing you want tearing up and down the wicket is a hoard of touring bikers, or some cock in an Audi.

Now I love a Test Match, but anyone who watched Chris Gayle batter the Australian attack out of the ground (and I'm talking to you weaselly faced Brett Lee), could not help but delight in how good a game it is to watch, especially as now they can't take the piss out of us too much for our woeful display against the Netherlands.

But is this enough to entice the casual viewer, and will it be enough to contain my rapidly depleting attention span?

Fear not, for I have a solution.

T-2000

With it's increasing global domination, SkyNews/SkySports is clearly a front for bigger things to come.

Skynet.

And with Skynet, comes Terminators, most importantly the T-2000 - a shape shifting metal motherfucker with the ability to turn into anyone it has sampled the DNA of.



Given the number of cricketers who've had hair transplants, there must be mountains of DNA floating around the worlds changing rooms and pavilions.

Imagine the terror seeing an amorphous silver silhouette bounding down the pitch towards you, suddenly to morph into Shoaib Akhtar and nearly take your head off. Next ball you're ready for him, only now it's Shane Warne - out of retirement with a deadly leg break.

Metal Billy Bowden stood near the wicket, just waiting to extend that crooked finger..... and extend....and extend....imagine what he'd do with a six?

I'd love to see it, and shall pen a missive to Rupert Murdoch as soon as I'm done here.

And if you think it might all be a bit easy on the bowlers in my thrilling upgrade of the game, don't worry, I've got a little plan up my sleeve for the batsmen.



He'll be back......