If Cancer Jesus ever returns to Adelaide he can expect to be dragged from his private jet at the airport, hitched to the back of a truck with a rope, hauled into the city down Anzac Parade and his lifeless body hung for display from a light standard in Victoria Square while the crowds that once sang his praises to the sky bay for his blood. He doesn't deserve any better.
Unlike the several hundred thousand Australians that will be glued to their small screens on Friday and Saturday nights this week watching a marshmallow “interview” the biggest fraud in sporting history I’ll have something better to do.
Like eating my own liver. Or standing outside a bar in Darwin’s Mitchell Street picking fights.
I’ll do just about anything to avoid the biggest media stunt in (recent) sporting or political history.