Sorry About Us (This)...

'I'm a one track lover/Down a two-way lane,
Driving fast down the highway/Must have been insane,
'Cause the temperature's too high/Travelling way too fast,
And I knew our loving/Wasn't built too last'

'She's smooth, like ice/Cold to the touch and it isn't very nice,
When you're left, alone/You let me treat you badly left you hanging on the phone,
Take off/Shove your loving on the wheel,
Put your pedal to the floor/'Cause your heading for the hills,
Gotta get away/Can't take anymore, We should be making love!
Men don't leave/They just leave you at the door...the door...

Monty here (the proper one, not the Australian version). By way of recognising the week's sporting events ('boom boom boom let me here you say Eto'o...') i'm going to attempt to keep you up to speed with our recent activities using only phrases one would likely here in a sports report. Clever, eh?

The bell dinged and Walshe, 23, 200 lbs, wearing the navy hawaiian boardshorts, took an early advantage, landing a decisive blow in lumbering off to the gym. Reeling from the impact of his hefty right hand, Montague, 22, not many lbs, wearing the blood-spattered cargo shorts (not yet cleaned since the Krakow debacle) and Fitzgerald, questionable lbs, wearing a better pair of boardshorts than Walshe, applied vaseline to the wound in the form of a KFC with their Australian counterparts.

The day's early kick-off was to be held under the glades and blazing sun at the local park. Walskadong, kitted out in a 'Jordan 23' jersey and alarmingly short shorts took up residence in goal, with outfield spots filled by an Australian select II and a British select...II. Montague, expecting an easy ride, swaggered around the field with an air of arrogance unbefitting his lack of match sharpness, and was soon made to look rather foolish as Blair and Leadon conjured fluid move after fluid move and raced into an early advantage. A typically brusque equaliser from Fitzgerald only delayed the inevitable and humiliating defeat. Thankfully for the British, their misery was not compounded further, Montague's lose drive passing just over the head of an elderly couple.

With a zip and verve sadly lacking in their earlier performances, the players sped through Bratislava's maze of streets to their next hole, the alarmingly expensive 'Dubliners'. Here they navigated the obstacles of wind (stag party) and rain (again, stag party) and landed neatly a good 10 yards from the pin, a fine shot, affording them excellent visibility to a big screen showing Newcastle-Villa. Ben Blair, sporting a moustache that would make Sam Torrence proud, left his fans in raptures thanks to his daring combination of running shorts and vest; whilst Montague and Fitzgerald again failed to show the quality they are so capable of, a series of errors culminating in the ordering of a pint of lemonade for the princely sum of three English pounds. Gross spending indeed. Take heed Newcastle...

With the day's play waning and meandering in the heat of the Slovakian sun, tea was called. Whilst Walshe's choice of beans, eggs, cheese and bread may have seemed like a good decision earlier on in the day, a certain contingent of his supporters were calling for a change up to its inception - the processed cheese failing to complement the more reliable elements of the team selection. However, these fans would do well to remember Walshe's notable successes in the past, and any calling for his head after such a performance should take a long look at his previous record. You cannot question cheese's contribution to a good Walshe dish over the years (although Player of the Year?) but in this case it seemed dated and off the pace. He may have been better off selecting a relish, an understated selection, sure, but one that would have brought out the best in the other ingredients.

By way of post-match analysis this battered and bruised band of brothers took to their computer screens to watch YouTube videos and reflect on quite a day's play. Montague's selection of a montag(u)e of NFL hits was neatly countered by the Australians, who reclaimed their superiority by showing Walshe and Fitzgerald AFL hit after AFL hit. Montague, disgruntled, again fueled his critics' fire by sulking for quite some time. If he is to achieve his potential he must one day improve this attitude which could yet stifle his development into a really top-class performer. Walshe, on the other hand, showed initiative and creativity in participating in after hours celebrations with a hostel employee, although he would do well to look at the careers of Ben Johnson and Alex Rodriguez for guidance in these potentially testing times. With the umpires declaring an emphatic victory for Australia, Fitzgerald and Montague loped off to the pavillion for a rub down and a good sleep. Down but not out, these hardy campaigners have learnt that this trip represents a marathon not a sprint. They move on to Budapest, for another huge encounter, this time with UGA's five star recruit, the Hungarian hero, Anna Bencze.