Sid Vicious

Not only are the barbarians at the gate, but they've started lobbing bricks through the windows, replaced the Australian flag with a pair of underpants and set fire to Ian Chappell's slippers. The empire has fallen and the baggy green shadow has been lifted from the face of the globe. For a bit.

But from the rubble, a new breed shall rise. The cloning laboratories in Alice Springs and Darwin will spew forth smoke and lo they shall come, like unto Terminators, dozens of freshly minted Aussie cricketers. Indestructible. Illiterate. Indistinguishable. Our Wisdens will not avail us, nor our Cricinfo Guide to International Cricketers and we shall have not the foggiest who they all are. It will be like the nineties when none could tell which was Blewett and which was Bevan.

But fear not. I have put in the hard yards, hit my straps, come to the party and stepped up to the plate. Into the dark crevices of that sandy continent I shall shine my torch of truth and reveal all. Stick with me and I'll teach you which is Noffke and which Hilfenhaus; I'll help you tell your Bollingers from your McDonalds. And I shall begin with the chubby upstart who has barged his way to the sweaty front of the fast bowling queue, the man they call 'Vicious'.

Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's Peter Siddle

See, this is why the Aussies are best. They take their nicknames seriously. If he'd been born in Todmorden rather than Traralgon, he'd probably be saddled with some feeble moniker such as 'Siddley' or 'Siddles'. Instead, his nickname is a minor classic of ingenuity. Siddle - Sid - Sid Vicious - Vicious. Genius. (If you're wondering who Sid Vicious is, then you're probably Ray Illingworth and there's nothing I can do to help you). Siddle is twenty-three, he comes from Victoria and he bowls fast.

He used to be a lumberjack and he's okay

The story of Little Red Riding Hood is so popular in parts of rural Victoria that every young boy dreams of becoming a wood-cutter (or wearing a red dress). The teenage Vicious was no different to thousands of other young Aussies, leaving home with just an axe and a dream. Competitive wood-chopping has not yet caught on in this country, since we tend not to make a sport of of just any domestic chore, but young Pete it appears had quite a future as a professional timber splicer. His tree-bothering days are behind him now, but all those years swinging his chopper has left him with a legacy of weakness in his right shoulder that threatens to hinder his cricket career, despite drastic reconstructive surgery two years back.

He's bringing chubby back

Unkind commentators have also suggested his generously proportioned frame might create extra physical strain. But in a world of dieticians and super-athletes, it's quite refreshing to see men like Siddle, New Zealand's Jesse Ryder and our own Samit Patel bringing fat back. And though he claims to have modelled his bowling on Alan Donald and Glen McGrath, the former bowler he most resembles is that other hefty Victorian, the gutsy Mervyn Gregory Hughes.

Are you Mervyn in disguise?

Siddle favours the traditional bleached blond look rather than the bushy tache, but like Hughes, he bowls what they call a heavy ball, has a nasty bouncer and above all, he's quick, repeatedly hitting 150kph at the MCG. It's easy to imagine batsmen around the world trying to duck out of a confrontation with Vicious, and with Clark and Lee injured, he's got a chance to nail down his place as first reserve pace bowler ahead of his rivals for years to come.

The Empire Strikes Back

Picture Ricky Ponting in his little Tie Fighter, spinning away into the inky blackness. You think he's gone for good, that the Death Star (let's call it the MCG) is overthrown. But you were wrong about Darth Vader and you're wrong about Punter. He'll be back, with another army of cricket clones. Don't be surprised if the Third Test at Sydney ends with Graeme Smith frozen in carbonite, Dale Steyn getting used to a mechanical hand and the baggy green empire rising once again.