Always nice to read the bitterness of the Aussies! Taken from an Oz Newspaper;
NOT again! And so soon. Opening the paper to find the Poms ahead of Australia on the gold medal tally was reliving a nightmare.
It had that same heavy, groggy feeling of suddenly waking on the couch during that fateful early morning in 2005 to find Australia had lost the Ashes.
How could it happen, we wondered in 2005? This useless bunch of pub cricketers who had been the butt of so many Australian jokes and thrashings over almost two decades had taken what was ours, even though the fragile little Ashes urn never actually moved from the Lord's museum.
Suddenly the great unwashed were interested in cricket again. Lining up around the block to try to get into their birdcage-sized grounds and catch a glimpse of their new heroes, whoever they were.
Now it's happening at the Olympics. Having told many a Pom "on ya bike" during this sustained and glorious era, it's been galling to find they've taken the advice so literally.
Going into yesterday's competition England had four gold medals on the cycling track and Australia none.
So it's time for survival mode again. Just like in '05, ignore any text messages and phone calls when the number starts +44, have the finger carefully poised over the message erase button and open those emails very carefully.
At work, avoid the water cooler. You don't realise how many Poms inhabit the office until they actually win something.
Years can go by with barely a mumble and then suddenly there they are, raising their heads and their voices, lingering in small, rowdy groups like they're in the pub and greeting you like a long lost loser.
It's amazing how quickly the downtrodden forget their place in the world.
Just like the cricket, our struggle at this Olympics is at least partly our fault. We let our coaches go around the world for a bit of extra cash and they started teaching people how to touch a wall in a swimming pool and turn around.
The same thing happened before '05 when Rod Marsh was poached to head England's cricket academy and he took the best bowling coach in the country, Tasmania's Troy Cooley, with him.
Cooley taught Freddy Flintoff and his mates to make sure the ball hit the mown strip in the middle of the ground and the rest is history.
But credit where credit's due. English cricket has always had a United Nations feel about it on the field, even if its administrators have often been locked in some sort of Old Eton or Cambridge time warp. History has repeated itself with Kevin Pietersen becoming another South African captain of England after Tony Greig. No doubt Pietersen is already eyeing off suitable real estate in Sydney's eastern suburbs to set himself up in the afterlife as a Nine Network commentator.
Heavens, it was even an Australian who won England the Ashes in '05 when the Queenslander, Geraint Jones, caught fellow Queenslander Michael Kasprowicz with a tumbling leg-side dive.
Like some of our swimmers, it appears that Kasper's fingernails were not long enough. Had the bouncer he gloved from Steve Harmison deflected just a fraction wider it would have raced to the boundary and won Australia the second Test to give us a seemingly unassailable 2-0 series lead.
The great joy about the Ashes of course is that '05 was an aberration. The boys were dreadful and still only just lost but two summers ago the world was returned to its rightful place.
England arrived with Flintoff the boisterous barman as captain and were flogged all around the country, even contriving to lose the unlosable Test in Adelaide, although what would they expect with someone called Collingwood playing for them?
But that "don't mess with us pal" attitude is going to be very difficult to enforce at the next Olympics. The Poms are at home. Apparently they've booked in a rain-free fortnight for London in 2012.
Another decent medal haul in four years and they might have to be considered a genuine middle power, like they were before Bradman arrived at the end of the roaring '20s. So how do we deal with this unexpected and potentially devastating phenomenon of Pommy Power? How do we stop 12 gold medals on paper dissolving to six in the pool and seven reigning world record-holders coming up gold-less?
Never mind our brave girls and boys, heads must roll, like Dizzy and Marto and Kasper after the Ashes. Just a few victims to make the rest of them realise that in this nation of rising obesity we need a reason to get off the couch and only winning will do it.
So instead of a street parade, let's take a rare sporting lesson from the French and start the tumbrels rolling.
Look no further than the Chinese for proof of just what a positive impact this can have.
Just a generation or so ago Red Guards, now respectably middle-aged and no doubt helping to half-fill the sold-out Olympic stadia, were publicly executing millions all over China during the cultural revolution.
Result? China has stolen everyone's gold rush.
So let's get to it. Anything to beat the Poms.