I love Tim Cahill.
If it doesn't work out between me and Ben Whishaw, or me and Senator Faulkner, I'm going to marry Tim Cahill.
Here's a photo I took of Mr Cahill tonight:
I'm not entirely sure which one he is, but I reckon he must be one of these six chappies:
No matter. What matters is that he was there, somewhere, and he did stuff on the court that may or may not have contributed to Everton's basket, whether because of or despite the inclusion or absence of leg breaks or spikes.
That didn't sound right, did it? That's because nice looking, football-playing boys (ideally who read poetry) distract me no end from the game they're actually playing.
That's why I love Le Tour de France so much: never have I seen a pretty cyclist. I can sit perfectly upright, utterly sober, watching hour after hour of Le Tour and discourse freely on the mechanics of the peloton provided Cadel Evans is in the leaders' pack.
As long as Cadel stays up front it's just a matter of time until SBS contacts me to commentate the race. Just a matter of time.
Cadel Evans: not as pretty as other people.
