Giles Clarke – this is what we think of you
“It’s true that I have received a lot of criticism in the media, some of it hysterical and utterly irrational, some of it immensely rude. I discard those people.”
Everybody ready? Let’s get discarded.
Giles Clarke is the public face of the ECB. He is there to be ridiculed. He presided over a TV rights deal that didn’t seem wholly transparent and he gambolled about like a dim, floppy-haired dog when Sir Allen Stanford papered over the cracks in English cricket using dollar bills.
He’s also a businessman. A proper, full-blown businessman who spends his time shaking hands with other businessmen and having conversations with them where they manage to differentiate between ostensibly identical grey cars.
He will have at least three mobile phones because he’s three times as important as you.
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"Hey, careful, man, there’s a beverage here"
He also had 9000 emails telling him to “pay no attention” to demands that he resign. Is this a Bollinger 9000?
What follows is a rant. Sorry, but this man appals me.
What these people fail to realise is that it is IMPOSSIBLE to own a sport. It can’t be done. If this was his house, or his car, or his children, that he had sold to some dodgy Texan, well that’s up to him. But he, and the county chairmen who put him there, DON’T OWN CRICKET. It was never his to sell.
I am going to sound like a poor Neville Cardus in a moment. Cricket is played by whomever picks up a bat and ball. Cricket is liked by whomever wants to like it. Cricket is commented on by whomever want to comment. None of these people claim to own cricket – it is un-ownable. Neither do any of these people have to ask permission to play / like / comment – they just do it. There is no owner to ask permission of.
Sports administrators like to think of themselves as CEOs of large companies, but the two could not be more different. Companies have owners – sports do not. A sports administrator is a temporary custodian of something that nobody owns, but that means a tremendous amount to thousands.
It’s a bit like looking after your neighbour’s cat while they are on holiday. Basically you are just there to feed it and make sure it doesn’t die for want of attention. If absolutely necessary, you might have to make an important decision or two, like taking it to the vet or something. However, your primary job is to give back exactly the same cat when your neighbour returns. It’s no good saying to your neighbour, “Here you go, I wasn’t happy with the potential of your previous cat, so I’ve upgraded it into a dog.” That is not going to go down well.
Giles Clarke’s job was to give back essentially the same thing that he was allowed to look after for a bit. He didn’t see this. He wanted to make it better.
Ouch, not sure what to say after that. Personally, I have two mobile phones. One for my bros, one for my hoes.
I know how he got re-elected though… http://is.gd/kXxq
If someone told me they weren’t happy with the potential of my cat and upgraded it to a dog, I would be ABSOLUTELY FLAMING FURIOUS!!! Is this the kind of man Giles Clarke is? I DISCARD HIM! I DISCARD HIM!
Well a dog is legally an upgraded cat. but then a Raichu is an upgraded Pikachu, and I’d rather have a Pikachu…
Miriam, I am absolutely 117% sure that if some bloke with gold ears and fifty-pound notes stuffed in his trousers were to ask Giles Clarke to “upgrade” your cat into a dog, he would do it WHETHER YOU WANTED HIM TO OR NOT. Then, afterwards, when it turned out that the dog he had upgraded to was actually a naked mole rat (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Nacktmull.jpg) he would say that he had had no choice, and that anyone would have done the same thing, and that he had the support of the county chairmen. That is the sort of person he is.
Better link, maybe:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Nacktmull.jpg
Well that’s a very odd coincidence Bert, cos Clarke was also born with teeth growing outside of his lips.
I used to think cats were female dogs. So if i had returned from holiday to find my cat had been upgraded into a dog, i would be most alarmed. I would certainly not trust this man with any of my domestic animals if these are the horrendous plans he has for them.
Naive prick.
Immensely rude, eh? Smug cunt.
I think you are all being immensely rude.
If you don’t stop being immensely rude I shall discard you.
I feel that strongly about it.
Rant of the century Bert. Top work.
But don’t get too smug, fucktard. I discard you.
Well really, D Charlton! I’ve never been so discarded in my life!
Mr Clarke appears to have recently acquired the unfortunate habit of making not wholly accurate staements:
http://liberalengland.blogspot.com/2009/02/giles-clarke-yet-another-inaccuracy.html
I am yet to encounter a person with the first name ‘Giles’ who is not an utter cunter
bert, surely going from a cat to a dog is downgrading!