Oh the pain, oh the igonomy...

ALRIGHT, let's get this over with quickly.
England have won the Ashes series for the first time in donkey's years, defeating Australia 2-1 after a draw in the Fifth Test at The Oval in London. Kevin Pietersen anchored England's second innings with his maiden Test century, scoring 158 to keep Australia's bowlers at bay.
Ok, that much you should all know already.
Seriously though, what can we take out of this series? More to the point, what can we take out of it that hasn't already been done to death in the papers?

This is truly the age of marketing men
After England held their nerve (just) in the Second Test to win by 2 runs, the England and Wales Cricket Board (ECB) immediately put out a DVD called "The Greatest Test".
The Greatest Test?!?
Sure, this was a good, nay, great Test match. Australia were gone for all money at stumps on day 3, 8/175 chasing 282 with just Shane Warne, Brett Lee and Michael Kasprowicz standing between England and a series-levelling victory. It's history now that this unlikely threesome got Australia within 3 runs of victory, only to be denied by a stunning Geraint Jones catch off Kasprowicz.
But The Greatest Test? Surely either of the two Tied Tests would have to come into consideration. The Second Tied Test - India vs Australia at Madras in September 1986 - finished with Greg Matthews taking the last Indian wicket with the second-last ball of the match. Matthews took 10 wickets for the match while bowling in a sweater: lunacy when you consider that Dean Jones scored 210 before being taken to hospital and put on a saline drip.
And what about the First Tied Test between Australia and the West Indies at Brisbane in 1960/61? Australia weren't just gone: they were dead in the water at 6/92 chasing233. Yet somehow Richie Benaud and Alan Davidson dragged them to within striking range, only to be foiled courtesy of a Joe Solomon direct hit from side-on.
Therein lies the difference. Benaud and Davidson had to battle the clock to bring their team close; Warne, Lee and Kasprowicz had two days to make their runs. A brave fightback yes, but The Greatest Test? I think not.

There has to be a middle ground
When Andrew Flintoff began hitting out later in the series, Australia seemed to have one plan: spread the field. Come to think of it, they tended to do that as soon as he got in.
Compare this to what happened every time Adam Gilchrist came in. England captain Michael Vaughan kept an attacking field, meaning that if Gilchrist stuffed up early on - as most batsmen do - there were fielders waiting for the edges. Even when Gilchrist hit a few fours, Vaughan kept an attacking field. End result? Geraint Jones scored more runs than the Australian number 7.

Swingers are back
Not the Austin Powers style - although he'd have been stoked with the result - but the Simon Jones and Matthew Hoggard style. Throughout this series the English bowlers (and to the same extent Shane Warne) have shown that a moving ball will cause all kinds of problems for batsmen, no matter how good they are.
The last true Australian swinger was Damien Fleming, and despite being injured a hell of a lot and bowling in allegedly hostile swing conditions, he still took 75 wickets in 20 Tests at an average of just under 26. England's success shows that a good swing bowler adds a lot to your attack: especially if the conditions are right.

They're my thoughts anyway. Again, well played England: let's hope other Test series can match this one for sustained intensity.

Sing us a song: Actually please stop!

I WISH I could sing.
Actually, if you listen to my mother, she'd say she wished I could still sing.
I was in a Tournament of the Minds competition once, where the team's most memorable moment was me singing my own lyrics to the Star Trek spoof song Star Trekkin'. After that, Mum decided that her little darling needed to get singing lessons so as to make the most of his precocious talent.
Unfortunately for Mum all little darling wanted to do was play sport (in particular cricket), and that soon died a slow and painful death. Since then breakouts of Spontaneous Karaoke Syndrome have met with the following conversation:

Mum:
"Why can't you still sing? You used to be able to sing really well."
Son:
"Let's see Mum. I know: when a child reaches a certain age, they go through this thing called puberty. This ushers in a range of changes to the child's body, which include in the case of males, extra body hair, facial hair, growth spurts and a deeper voice. Do you think having a changed voice might've finished any hopes of a national number 1 hit?"

Of course, this is the same mother who, when I was 19 and with reasonable sideburns, exclaimed at the top of her voice: "you've got stubble!"
Wow. Fancy that: nearly 20 and some signs of facial hair.
This isn't about Mum though (there isn't nearly enough room, and besides, she still has embarassing photos of me). This is about singing, and my current lack of ability to do that task with any kind of acknowledgement of how the original was sung.
Before I go much further, I must add I won a karaoke competition at a campsite in Rome by singing Frank Sinatra's New York, New York. I must also add that none of the other singers could carry a note more than two steps without dropping it. But other attempts at karaoke have ended with people either laughing at the dance moves, high-pitched voices or ability to forget about a verse rather than the sheer brilliance of the vocals.
At any rate, there's a "Jim Beam Idol" on up in Port Douglas for the next month. My plan is to head in on Sunday night, check out the competition, and see if it's worth embarassing myself yet again.
Should be fun.