The legend who couldn’t give a fuck…

… well, actually, he could. And often did.

The Bug has delved into its archives to pay a suitable tribute to Shane Warne, one of the greatest five players in cricket history.

We are therefore very, very, proud to reproduce (above) our cover from Volume 17 No 5 July 2005.

For context, back in the famous 2005 Ashes series, some tawdry, lowlife London tabloid (is that a multiple tautology?) sent a honeytrap floosie to pretend to be a barmaid in a pub near where the Aussies were staying and who, somehow, cunningly, using every trick in her heaving bosum and wet, split, beaver arsenal, would seduce the happily married leg-spinning great into the cot for a major “gotcha!” that could possibly derail the Australian quest.

Warne’s response? He took a big sugar hit, gave her one – possibly more depending on whether he had early morning training the next day – and then blew the tabloid out of the water by openly declaring it was all rather jolly good fun. And if she was up for more of the same, then he was up for it too, so to speak. He was basically telling the tabloids: “Give it your best shot and so will I!”

Now there are some people who might see Warne’s reaction as somewhat tawdry itself if indeed he was happily married to Simone at the time, with little kiddilicks in tow – but “Warnie!” “Warnie!” “Warnie!” the larrikin could never do wrong in the eyes of his legion of fans.

Warnie was probably happily married at the time, meaning he was both married and happy to play up like a two-bob watch or an old Victa two-stroke that hadn’t been serviced properly. Is that what made him so loveable and likeable even when he wasn’t?

The Bug back in 2005 disguised itself as that tawdry, despicable, low-life red top and ran the yarn as if it itself had set the beaver trap for “Warnie! “Warnie!” “Warnie!”

EDITOR’S NOTE: We could have reproduced the text from this article for your reading pleasure but we are mindful that the piece was written almost 20 years ago when some of our efforts were rather undergraduate, childish and perhaps sexist, as opposed to the sophisticated, cutting-edge satirists we have now become, forged as we have been in the furnace of 21st Century political correctness and post #metoo sensibilities.