Pat Cummins' chest

From a defensive captain with bad plans to the player who saved the broken tail.

Australia were behind from before the first ball. Why? Because Pat Cummins started with three men on the boundary. He might as well have burned his baggy green to rid Australia of negative energy such was the frustration.

Australias's greeny metrosexual beta cuck woke male was letting England - fucking England - bully them around with the likes of Zak Crawley. Zak fucken Crawley. What the fuck is going on?

From then on England were in front. Cummins' men let Root take whatever he wanted while the rest chipped in around. England took Australia so seriously they bowled Harry Brook to Smith. Just taking the absolute piss. And when Smith and Marnus never showed up, it was down to Usman Khawaja and his daughter to get Australia to anywhere near parity. But he fell short. Felled by the medium-paced stylings of Ollie Robinson and sent on his way with a verbal barrage that would usually belong to a faster bowler. The comments cut so deep that even the naturally shy and withering Australian media were upset.

The problem was now it was just the tail left. The worst lower order since Merv Hughes and Craig McDermott slogged it around. They were bounced up by perhaps the slowest bowling attack in world cricket. This was about the pace we saw from Ireland at Lord's, and yet the Australian tail was tenderised.

Even when Pat Cummins and Nathan Lyon pulled it back for the third innings with the ball, how did it end? Not with a bazball explosion, but Ollie Robinson, Stuart Broad and Jimmy Anderson all making runs like Australia turned up to England with moisturised manchildren not fast bowlers.

Where was Jimmy Anderson's broken fucken arm? Looked like the Aussies brought him out a Pina colada and fanned him while serenading him with showtimes, to me, mate.

Then finally, Australia got a fairly simple chase. I mean last year England chased a bigger chase while half-cut against India at the same ground. Piece of piss.

It got easier as Australia finally got an opening partnership in England for the first time since 2015 and finally had some parity in the game. And what happened? Stuart Broad (the man they called Baywatch in Werribee, the scourge of crappy journalism in Brisbane and inspired t-shirts about how he was a shit bloke) did it again.

How many Ashes Tests should Australia really lose to one nepo baby with a karate kid fetish?

England didn't even have a full bowling attack; Moeen Ali's finger fell apart from texting Ben Stokes that he was coming back. And the captain himself was wincing around the field.

So Usman pulled them back again, through Travis Head's trouble with spin, last Cameron Green's half shot, and now all Australia had to overcome was the old ball and what was left of the England bowling attack.

That is when Ben Stokes comes back on bowling at sub-Ollie Robinson speeds. But Stokes pulls out a leg cutter last used here by Alec Bedser, and Australia's 500-ball wall is gone.

Now it's Pat Cummins and Alex Carey. The keeper thinks so little of his captain he starts swinging wildly at every second ball. Almost none of the shots look good. Root almost slides one through him; he misses a few others.

When he does face, Cummins is heaving a pull shot straight up in the air and somehow finding the grass instead of hands. He also takes on Root's quick miserly off-spin. He gets into a sweep position and then swings hard in a way that aren't sweeps.

At this point, the cricket gets ugly. This is for real men, moustached, hairy chested,  spitting, swearing proper men who buy things at hardware stores and shake hand with a bone crunching grips. Is this that place for Pat?

This is dirty cricket. It's a drag on wicket. England are bowling slow spoiler balls. There are fielders in random spots that no one understands. Stokes's knees are creaking on the way in. Root drops not one but two caught and bowleds. Stokes falls over and doesn't seem to be able to get up. Cummins takes what is a half a run, or half-a-run-out chance.

This is two three-year-olds fighting over a lollipop. There is hair pulling, biting and no one can land a punch. Or even appears to know how to throw one. It's sloppy and muddy; everyone is tried, from the blades of grass on the pitch through to the batters making odd decisions.

England are way in front, they just need to collect the last few. They don't take the new ball in their ultimate alpha move, and Carey smacks the ball straight back at Root again. He drops his third straight chance until he catches the rebound. Australia is out of batting. Now it's just that tail again.

Remember Cummins as a leader, thought so little of Cummins as a batter that he demoted himself in the ultimate act of submission a few Tests back.

It's just him and Nathan Lyon, another bloke who hooked softly in the first innings. It's getting dark; England is teasing them with their new ball avoidance and they need more than 50 runs.

Cummins tries to regain power, but a bouncer drops him from his opposite number on the ground. Big Daddy Stokes - even without functioning knees - is bossing Cummins.

This is the time when the nice, polite, politically correct snowflakes will melt.

Except Cummins humps Root for 14 runs in an over. He hits the old ball so far England almost has to replace it. But they keep bouncing Lyon and Cummins with it.

It almost works, Stokes rises in front of the Hollies to almost poach the most chad-like catch you will see from Lyon, but he can't hold it.

Next ball Anderson gets lost in the field like a man almost twice his age. Cummins slaps another past him that Anderson probably didn't even see. But it's good to know he is still out there.

England have gone from champs to chumps. From alphas to crybabies. It is the big bad bazballers who are now rattled. They're now so triggered they have forgotten the new ball. Drunks from the Hollies scream for Stokes to take it, and he's awakened from his Cummins-induced stupor and gives it to Stuart Broad.

Nathan Lyon stands and delivers one past him like he's a traffic cone. Broad is reduced to a bad choir conductor trying to get the Hollies to do his work. The new duke in England has been Anderson's for best part of this millennium. He watches Robinson take it.

Robinson gets slapped through covers, England players throw themselves at it from every single angle. Pope can't catch it, and Crawley fumbles it into the rope. But then Cummins uses his big brain and walks across the crease to flick one for a single to leg. A few minutes later Cummins hits the ball to Stokes right hand and just runs as if he is saying, you are too broken to even run me out. England are now giving Cummins the singles. He's gone from victim to boss.

And so, with all the fielder's back for his skipper, Lyon just dropkicks Stuart Broad over mid-on. You can hear the Hollies stand shit themselves at once.

For Cummins, England now have seven guys on the boundary. Cummins has broken Bazball, and the scattered remnants can be found from fine leg to long off.

In fact, England almost give up on placing the fielders. Someone just presses shuffle. If they plan to take a wicket, it would appear to be a runout. They give Cummins a single on the last ball of the over. They are fried, scrambled, and they look like drunk monkeys trying to work out wordle.

They have an emergency meeting between overs. Seven of them, all talking at once.

Cummins has made the play-as-you-are cool-as-fuck England  like a county team bowling to Viv in the 80s.

England go back to short balls, and their only plan now is to make Australia get the runs off slow accurate bouncers. Moeen's finger is gone, Stokes's knees don't allow bouncers, and Anderson stays out in the ring like a grumpy grandfather not included in the wedding photos.

Cummins is bounced and bounced and bounced. He tries to slog, he jumps and leaves, and almost gets bowled by a Yorker while standing on Pope's toes at short leg.

Lyon is bounced, too. He tries to hit the ball to Pope twice. But now it is England who are looking scared. Pope twice flinched and moved away from half chances he had no reason to fear.

While Pope avoids pain, Cummins takes the ball on his body. He has been taking balls on his body all Test.

There is a point where it seems almost inevitable. Lyon and Cummins are a unified collection of like-minded artists fighting for a social justice cause. Pat Cummins has chained himself to a grand oak tree. Nathan Lyon is pouring milk on the Mona Lisa.

When Pat Cummins squeezes a short ball down to third, the England team that these two men have broken fumble the winning runs.

Australia put on a 55-run ninth-wicket partnership with a tail that got bullied. Australia won a game where England were so in front they declared on day one. Australia won a Test without Marnus or Smith. Australia put a safety blanket on bazball.

Australia won with a woke beta metrosexual snowflake greeny defensive captain who demoted himself down the batting order. Pat Cummins took the ball on his immaculately shaven chest, and took the first Test.