So there I was, sitting in a restaurant the other night waiting for our order to arrive, watching a bit of cricket on the TV – they’re absolutely mad about that sport in this country. Now, cricket, in its proper Test form, is possibly the second most boring sport in the world, right after golf, but at least Things Actually Happen during a game of cricket, whereas I generally consider a game of golf to be a good walk ruined, as Mark Twain once said.

The match playing on the screens that day, however, was not the long-form version of the game, which goes on and on and bloody on for five days. (No, I’m not making that up.) This version was the limited, 20-over stand-and-bang kind, where the goal is to score as many runs as possible in a short time period. Each innings is usually finished in around an hour, maybe less, depending on the skill (or lack thereof) of each team.

So that’s all fine and dandy. There was just one teeny tiny little problem:

It was a women’s cricket match.

Now, I’m not hating on women here. Being a red-blooded man, albeit somewhat of an Olde Pharte now that I am officially in my mid-thirties, I very much approve of women and enjoy their company – especially when said company comes clad in a bikini and carries a glass containing good single-malt Scotch with a single ice cube in it, just for me.

That being said… there are some things that women simply Should Not Do.

Cricket, and by extension tennis and football and rugby and most other real sports, is one of those things.

The match that I was watching was embarrassing to see. Utterly inept fielding. Dropped catches. Goofy shots – I remember one particular howler in which a female batsman- er, batswoman – tried to be clever and punt the ball off to her side, only for the ball to pop right up against her hip and fall to the ground not ten inches from where she was standing. She stood there for a full second trying to figure out where the hell the thing went, saw it plonk down onto the ground, and then decided to go run to the other end of the crease.

And the less said about all of the absurd dropped catches, the better, really.

The thing is, we keep being lectured about how great women’s sports are – I’m sorry, but they’re just NOT. The camera panned over the stadium audience a few times to show off all of the supporters – and guess what: 80% or so of the arena was empty.

What seats were filled, were mostly filled by – you guessed it – women.

You see? Even women don’t like women’s sports, and the ones who do, usually don’t know how to play them.

And, hey, this isn’t me going off on some misogynistic rant about how terrible women’s sports are. They are objectively awful:

Now look, I’m thoroughly in favour of women going to the gym and taking up sports and staying fit and active and healthy. I don’t like hambeasts, SJWs, feminists, and fat acceptance activists (Lord, forgive me my redundancies), because I consider them to be ugly, disgusting, and stupid.

As I have written several times in the past, one of the greatest pleasures in life is to go into a decent gym in Moscow or St. Petersburg – or pretty much any other Eastern European city, really – at peak hour, when all of the girls are in there in tight yoga pants doing stretches and classes. If you haven’t done this at some point in your life, YOU HAVE NOT LIVED.

But don’t let’s pretend that women’s sports are somehow “fun” to watch. They just bloody well aren’t.