Scene one - London Pub, the Invitation:

The Plunderers from Down Under were seated all beside each other, the
Oracle had spoken, they were set for another routine bash, stash and crash  tour in the land of the Poms. "Lets party, mates" was the talk all around. But in walked a cowboy, a tall burlesque young lad without much ado about anything, without a care in the world and without any history of being a killer. He came bedecked with a Star in his chest and bore a smile on a face that turned to the name of Fiery (Freddie) Flintoff! Even as Punter the Plunderer and his "men" watched and didn't flinch at this Flintoff character! He had Quick draw McGrath, Smoking Shane (Warne), Magnificent Michael (Clarke) and Gifted Gilchrist to take care of this bloke, and even if they failed, there was always Lanky Lee, the Gallant Gillespie and Hacksaw Hayden on the back benches ready to set the house on fire.

The Sheriff called out, "take it outside"


Scene Two - The Street Fighters

The entire Aussies versus one Andrew... Yes all seemed so easy and done. Outnumbered it seemed. A cinch perhaps, sometime back. But now, the Sheriff had set free some of the Raging Bulls in his pen. The Guily Giles (earlier was Guilty Giles), Picturesque Peitersen and the Un (Urn??) strapped Strauss was the last Straw!

Now the battle was Even (Kevin) - Steven (not Waugh wah this time
around!). And Flintoff was ready with his Flintlock and the Flint in the
machinery of the Aussie Juggernaut to bring it to a grinding halt.

The Poms were more than a handful for the visitors and "head hunter"
Vaughan was only too pleased to claim his stakes on the Urn of Urns...


The Verdict

The Oracle's prophecies were always true - stark unworldly men would
come, plunder the wealth from the attics and elsewhere of the foreign lands  they went over to. And it held good, until one fine rainy morning, a bloke came along on what looked like a pony.

But Andrew was Destiny's Chosen One, the one to stop the great
machinery of the men in yellow, wearing the baggy green caps. The men who always had left a sour taste in the mouths of their opponents had been given a taste of their ruthless mechanism all in the space of twenty five days. All these days were full of grueling, hardcore street fighting, clubbing each other to let alone some sleepless nights go worse, and to continue the battle the next morning with red eyes and sore throats from the draining the day before.

The Aussies had come and gone, without making any real flourish, their
trademark ways of plundering runs and burning the sticks with their
precision was all part of history and nothing would be seen.

The flip side, however, was the spirit in which their tail aimed the  daggers at the snakes threatening them. And the rise of a Great Valiant Warrior Warne, was always on the cards. But sadly this great warrior ended up on the losing side even after giving the best war of his life.


Hindsight:

Perhaps the Oz juggernaut was catching up with weariness and routine
sacking and looting. Perhaps the strength of the team had weakened, or maybe even the great warriors were getting older and sported more grey hair than before.

Or perhaps the Oracle had been of Australian Origin, perhaps that's why
it proclaimed the world champs to come up 5-0??