The drizzly rain looked as gloomy as Joe Hockey’s first budget, as I drove towards Wentworth Par and despite the fact that it was quickly drying out, ongoing worries about my injury meant I wanted to play about as much as the New Zealand cricket team wanted to play against the Cricket Australia XI. I got changed in the club rooms and headed for Ground 1 with the lingering smell of deep heat clinging to me the way asylum seekers cling to their children when they see Peter Dutton.
Our opponents for the night were the Banditos and as the start of the game drew closer, it appeared likely that they may follow Bill Shorten’s lead with Malcolm Turnbull and not actually provide any recognisable opposition. Just as I was anticipating an early night, the Banditos appeared like ninjas, showing they were aptly named for their stealth.
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