Cricket Reborn

A succession of slow, tedious pitches has been slowly throttling all the life and interest out of the current West Indies versus England Test series and as we were forced to remark over cigars, “Oh another century, how tedious, Do pass the bucket of rum punch.”

Nevertheless we’ve been vaguely following the massive run feast where batting averages have been as engorged as a Porn star’s work apparatus, but also reflecting in tranquillity on the wider implications of last week’s attack.

And it’s a still resolute but infinitely sadder cricketing world we now find ourselves in.

The atmosphere and relationship between players and supporters has probably changed forever. Just a decade ago we were able to mingle freely on the outfield and swap a post-game beer with the Windies in the 99 World Cup. Difficult to see that happening again.

While the security was a pint of shite, it’s Pakistani cricket lovers who are going to really suffer from the loony actions of a bunch of fanatical cowards who attacked an unarmed coach with rocket launchers – and couldn’t even hit it.

Way to go dickheads, that really proved a point.

Clearly cricket must go on and while it’s not often we get worked up or angry about the multitudinous iniquities of this sad world, this really pissed us off.

Reflect on this arseholes: If god exists, he’s most certainly a cricketer and we really hope he fucks you up for spoiling one of the few pure, simple, unadulterated pleasures left in life for the rest of us.

An eternity in purgatory facing a legion of departed through eternally angry fast bowlers armed only with stick of celery to defend yourselves should just about suffice.

Cricket attacked...

No gags today, just a solemn, grateful thanks that no cricketer was killed in this morning’s attack on the Sri Lankan team bus in Lahore. Scant consolation we suspect for the families of the five policemen who were protecting them.

Naively perhaps, we’d always believed that cricket was somehow sacrosanct and that no terrorist organisation, however desperate or loony, would deliberately target the greatest game and its players.

It’s especially shocking that this has happened in Asia, where cricket is almost revered as a religion itself.

Seems there is no line that human depravity will not cross.

Two for one...

We’re not feeling particularly inspired today, perhaps it was all that laudanum we had for breakfast, but the muse has deserted us as quickly as Liverpool’s fading title credentials.

Reasons to be cheerful? Well at least our beloved Hornets won a relegation six-pointer on the weekend, leaping salmon-like up the table towards the mediocrity which we truly deserve.

Elsewhere? Surrender Monkeys! Surely it’s a bit premature to be handing the title to Man United already with something like 13 games to go? Sure they’re odds-on favourites, but that’s being as defeatist as an Italian tank commander’s eve of battle speech.

We also note with sorrow the absence of The Fred from the Fourth Test, an omission England feel they need to cover by the call up of at two players in Amjad Khan and Ravi Bopara. Truly the Fred is at least four players in one... stock and shock bowler, big hitting biffer and assured elder batting statesmen, plus hands-like-buckets slip fielder. One question for the ECB are they sure they’ve brought enough?

Finally on to matters of taste and decency.

We haven’t got any. Hope that’s cleared that up.

No Result

Ah Friday, slack prelude to a weekend of lethargy when the week’s toil is nearly over and we can look forward to unfettered alcoholic indulgence unencumbered by such sordid considerations as rising before midday.

And it’s vodka and cornflakes for breakfast on Saturday and Sunday!

Ahem, anyway, more from what’s shaping up to be a pulsating test series over in the Antigua as following the debacle of the Sir Viv stadium, England and West Indies decamped to the historic ARG for a truly pulsating encounter.

England were probably denied a deserved victory, but the Windies at bay were defiant and held on by their very fingertips for the narrowest of draws, the outcome decided by a solitary tail-end wicket.

Games like this prove why Test cricket is still the pinnacle of spurting achievement and its why the undeniably flashy, though ultimately shallow Twenty20 version will never truly replace it.

This was a game that had been slowly brewing all week, simmering gently until it was ready to spill over with five days of unremitting labour, sweat, courage, technique, style, nuance and not a little luck all contributing to a magnificently inconclusive conclusion.

It’s paradoxical no doubt, but this was one of the most exciting draws ever, an example of the greatest game at its very finest.

Long Spoons

We’ve got a bit more time today so we can afford to first sharpen, then plunge our knives in freely.

Our plate de jour? Well once again it’s none other than ‘Big’ Sir Al Stanford, the Texan ‘saviour of cricket’ who’s done a flit with 8 billion stuffed down his trousers (and let’s face it, they must be quite roomy trews).

It’s only now we can fully appreciate our wise old Gran’s advice about ‘if you’re going to sup with the devil, be sure to use the longest of spoons’.

Fortunately English cricket hasn’t been stung too badly financially and shock horror, even the counties are talking about lobbing back their share of the Stanford pile (no biggy for 50k you might say).

Still, the whole episode reveals we should at least be grateful for small mercies and in this case, we can wave a hearty ta ta to the whole shabby, tacky, sordid Twenny Twenty for Twenny episode, which can finally be put to rest like an unloved, incontinent pet that regularly soils the furniture.

Still that’s not much consolation to the Antiguans who’re looking down the longest of barrels and it’s in their honour we’ve composed this Pimpernel style verse for Sir Al (with apologies to Baroness Orczy).


They seek him here
They seek him there
Those FBI agents seek him everywhere.
Is he in Panama?
Is he in Peru?
He’s made off with your wonga,
And they haven’t a clue.

51 All Out

The lack of posts recently has not been down to just our perpetual laziness, oh no, although truth to tell there's enough of that to whitewash all the dark matter in the universe. Nope we've been hiding our head in shame and wondering just what we should say about England's abject surrender to the Windies on Saturday. Fortunately we don't have to as spurting regular Steve B has felt compelled to pen his own. Don't worry though, we'll be right back with something snide to say on Big Phil and Big Tony's sacking, but for the moment over to Stevie B and the England post-mortem.

Perhaps – while perusing CNN in their Caribbean hotel – the England cricket team saw the tragic news of the wildfires claiming hundreds of lives in Australia, and decided to think up a way of returning smiles to the faces of those poor, demoralised Aussies. That’s the only explanation I can come up with for Saturday’s comically inept batting performance. It’s just a pity that they also managed further to depress another already suicidal nation – their own one – in the process. Perhaps Bill Frindall saw it coming, although his solution was a bit drastic.

So, what is to be done with a bunch of players beginning to resemble the cast of Carry On Cricketing? I predict two changes for the Second Test against the Windies – Shah for Bell and Anderson for Harmison. Everyone pretty much agrees on that – Bell’s mental disintegration is so advanced it’s a wonder he can remember to tie his shoelaces (although, perhaps one of England’s 16 support staff does that for him?) and the likelihood of Harmison getting his old zip back is roughly on a par with that of Osama Bin Laden embracing Catholicism.

If only England had a coach, they could get him to think up some excuse for sending Bell and Harmy back home, thereby allowing them to draft in replacements. Face it: given where Bell’s head is currently at, he’d probably drop the drinks on the way out to the middle. And Harmy would, as ever, rather be in Geordieland with his kids. Ravi Bopara’s absence from the Caribbean is a scandal and, as has been pointed out ad infinitum, Michael Vaughan still has a central contract. Granted, the cupboard of up-and-coming quickies is bare. But at least the bowlers’ performance was merely insipid, as opposed to embarrassing. And there are two replacements for Panesar – Swann and Rashid – although the latter won’t play due to his inexperience. If England lose the nest Test, though, they might as well whack him into the side, on the premise that he couldn’t do any worse. It will be interesting to see whether Swann comes in for Panesar, Monty has talent, for sure, but is actually getting worse as a bowler. He hasn’t bowled well for England for years, and Sabina Park, as Benn demonstrated, was an absolute Bunsen burner. He has to go, too – even despite Swann’s mauling in the warm-up match.

In an ideal world, if you were an England selector, you’d want to drop Strauss – I’d fancy bowling at him at the moment, but he’ll survive because he’s the newly anointed skipper – and Collingwood, the 21st century Nasser Hussain, a man with no talent but a gingery scrapper’s mentality. At least he’s a decent fielder – but fielding is pretty much all he has brought to England for a while now. Sidebottom’s bowling was startlingly mediocre, but at least he’s a leftie. How could England have come to such a pass that, having dropped three players, you then have to cast around for flimsy excuses to keep three others in the side?

England have been consistently, frustratingly awful for years now – which kind of makes a mockery of the “selectorial consistency” argument. So radical action is called for. As Strauss’s form is so poor he doesn’t merit a place, I’d call up Rob Key to captain and open the batting with Michael Vaughan. Followed by KP at number three, then Shah, Bopara, Flintoff and Prior. The bowling line-up is more problematic, but I would have the following at numbers eight to 11. Broad – first name on the team-sheet, obviously. Rashid (he can bat a bit, and all the Windies pitches are low and slow these days), Swann, Sidebottom, Anderson. Just a mere seven changes from what will henceforth become known as the 51 All Out Team, then.

Shot Selection

As Britain enters a second ice age and we shiver in our hovels and gently thrust another couple of copies of Shortlist onto the fire, it's been a boon to be transported the Carribean and the familiar rhythms of Test Match Special as it resonates across the airwaves redolent of sunshine and rum punch.

A strange first day for England in the opening Test, winning an important toss and then contriving to almost throw any advantage in all too unfamiliar fashion as they were subject to examination by twin spin and a new Windies star, the redoubtable Sulieman 'big' Ben.

Surreal stuff and naturally cricket, with no sense of irony whatsoever, brought KP and The Fred to England's rescue, the supposed dress room adversaries combining well to turn around a dire start.

Much of course has been made of KP 'throwing' away his wicket on 97, by attempting to bring up a ton with a huge six, when he'd have apparently been better advised to nudge it in singles.

Absolute rot of course. KP is a showman, a natural entertainer and earned the right to have a heave by the 97 runs he'd accumulated before getting out. Naturally if he does it all the time, teams will target this tendency, but right now he's England's premier batsman by a mile and we'd be deep in the brown stuff without his efforts.

Keep playing it your way KP.

Westward ho!

We’re taking a break from our throbbing non-stop coverage of Manchester City’s ever decreasing shopping list today, to contemplate the great love of our life today. Yes you too Mrs Spurt (we’ll pay for that later), but of course we speak primarily of cricket, as our brave boys cry ‘windward ho' and land in the Caribbean

Now during our formative years, this would usually be the cue to load up the body bags, watch the vultures begin to circle and wait for Mike Gatting to land at Heathrow resembling a recently violated panda, as the formidable West Indies quicks feasted on the softer parts of our batsmen with an array of bouncers, quick balls and erm even quicker balls.

Nowadays of course it’s a different coconut of rum punch. The great West Indies sides are a fondly fading memory, the game is less of a unifying force in the islands and talented young Windies athletes look to basketball or other more US-centric sports to make their fame and especially fortune.

West Indies still have genuine stars like Chris Gayle and Shivnarine Chanderpaul and are decent enough at the shorter forms of the game. Yet England – with their greater overall firepower - should prevail in the Tests and it’s going to be a thorough and intriguing examination of Andrew 'Posh' Strauss’s new captaincy.

We’ve a good feeling about Strauss and back him to get the best out of the team, heal any rifts and unite them for the home series warm up to the all-important Ashes.

Just keep The Fred away from the sauce pedaloes.

Hayden hangs up his bat (and not just outside off-stump)

It’s Day 174 in the World of Spurt house and John is in the diary room knocking one out – another blog entry that is.

Now we occasionally take a modicum of stick for our barely suppressed Aussie bashing/baiting, but we guarantee you we’re as fair-minded, racially-sensitive and well balanced as any member of the British Royal family...

Erm ...anyway moving swiftly on, slightly sad news today with the announcement of the retirement of Matt ‘Matty’ Hayden, the Aussie opener who’s finally hung up his bat.

It’s sad news indeed mainly because it’ll make the Aussie team that little bit stronger for the Ashes this summer.

Still, even we have to admit albeit reluctantly that Hayden was a great player in his time, averaging over 50 in Tests, World Record holder until Lara retook it and the only time we’ve seen him tamed was the 2005 Ashes series, when The Fred had him firmly in his pocket.

But averaging just over 16 in the last two series, it was definitely time for Hayden to fall on his sword, probably before he was pushed.

A difficult bloke to like though and it seems doubtful he’ll be remembered with any true affection outside of Oz.

Put it this way we’d much rather go out on the lash with Warney of an evening, but Hayden’s also the last in the line of that unbreakable series of Aussie titans: Langer, Gilchrist, Warne, McGrath.

There’s only little Ricky left now... and for that the rest of the cricket world will be truly thankful.

The Bright Side

So it all turned out to be true then - with both captain and coach gone on the same day leaving English cricket looking about as organised as a surrealist's free form art installation .

You can choose your own label from the following catalogue of disaster: debacle, farce, cock-up, or perhaps all three simultaneously, but no-one's emerged looking good from the process*: Pietersen for his wilfull petulance, Moores for his inability to handle the game at the highest level and the ECB for putting the ferrets down English cricket's trousers and then acting surprised when they end up fighting tooth and nail near some vitally important regions.

Still our naturally sunny and not at all in any way misanthropic life-hating outlook forces us to consider the bright side.

What do you mean, what bright side? Read on grasshopper to discover,

One: If it were done, 'tis well it were done quickly. Better that this happens now, than a month before the ashes . At least it will give Strauss two short series to stamp his authority on the team. It'll also mean we might get decent coach, rather than someone who's simply got the relevant ECB badges.

Two: It proves that cricket matters. It was the lead item on pretty much every form of media yesterday and shows just how integral cricket remains to the English psyche. On a day when myriad other stories from the sorry world vied for our attention, Cricket grabbed all the headlines, set the national news agenda and remains as important as ever.

For that small comfort at least, we should be truly thankful.

* Apart from Andrew Strauss who should have been made England skipper after the domestic Pakistan series.

England Woeful England

Widely previewed over the past 24 hours, the axe has finally fallen and if reports across the mainstream sites are to be believed, both England captain Kevin ‘KP’ Pietersen and coach Peter Moores have fallen on their collective swords this lunchtime.

It’s still unclear whether Pietersen has gone or has threatened to go if Moores stays – the only quote comes from Sky news who managed to ambush KP on his mobile but all he’d say was: "I am not in a fit state to talk."

Uneasy is the head that wears the crown and all that... Moores we were expecting, but KP as well? From the reports, it looks like he gambled on a ‘back me, sack him’ power play with the board that has spectacularly failed, but it would be pretty damn shocking to see a self-inflicted ousting only five months after he’d assumed the captaincy.

If it’s all true and that’s yet to be determined, with various sites currently getting splinters in their arse through all their fence sitting, the whole sorry spectacle has been thoroughly unedifying as watching Mike Gatting going on a rampage in your local cake shop. To misquote dear old Oscar, to lose either captain or coach may be regarded as misfortunate but to lose both at the same time? That looks like sheer carelessness.

Whatever way things pan out, KP has come out of it smelling of ordure. This is not so much washing your dirty laundry in public, as soiling it, flaunting it and then offering to rub the remains into the noses of random passers-by.

Even the news that Australia has had its worst ever sporting year is scant consolation on this darkest of days.

Riposte

Well lift up our skirts, tickle our biff and call us Mystic Susan. Yesterday - in a rare outbreak of Sunday posting - we actually picked in reverse order ie. Adlington, Hamilton and Hoy, the exact finishing order of BBC Spurts Personality of the Year.

Naturally we didn’t have the foresight to put any money on it, oh no, that would be far too rewarding an outcome for the way this Christmas is shaping up.

However solace has come in the form of the return of Test cricket to our DAB radio and after all the drama, trauma and debate surrounding whether England should go back (something we again predicted – have we got a direct line to the spurting future or what?), it has been simply marvellous to wake up in this bleak English midwinter and be greeted by Test cricket's gentle cadences, immense subtleties and moments of tension and excitement.

And for a game which nearly never happened, it has been quite scintillating cricket and has almost had everything ... Straussy’s two centuries, Collingwood’s one, Swann’s double strike and a daunting total for India to chase on the final day. Sehwag’s blitz, Yuvraj’s defiance and then a match-winning century with the return of the Little Master.

The script has been perfect and we don’t even feel too disappointed by England’s loss, hell, we’re even a little exhilarated by India’s epic chase.

A return to proper Test match cricket has produced not only a magnificent game but the perfect cricketing riposte to the horrors of Mumbai.

Shane Warne: The Musical

A slight break in our December post-a-thon yesterday as we suffered a distinct bout of the creeping lurgy but we return today undeterred by the vile germs still infecting our corporeal self to scribble once more.

Talking of corporeal selves and heading straight to our inbox via specialty trained carrier-wombat to be immediately filed under ‘we shit you not’ comes news of Shane Warne: The Musical, a re-imagining of the Aussie spinner’s brilliant on-field and occasionally torrid off-field antics, featuring singing, dancing and well all the rest of that musical stuff.

Now while Mrs Spurt loves the musical theatre, we are normally more ambivalent and usually view such happenings through tightly clenched teeth, but even we are tempted by the fat boy’s theatrical debut.

Believed to feature such well loved musical numbers as the Sex Pest’s Texting Song, Diuretics Are A Boy’s Best Friend and Just Don’t Tell The Sheila Indoors, SW: The musical will chart the rise, fall and rise again of Australia’s favourite filler of column inches.

From obscure beer-swilling, pizza-noshing, fag smoking blond Aussie beach bum to erm very rich and rather famous beer-swilling, pizza noshing, fag smoking blond Aussie beach bum - oh and quite possibly the greatest spinner who ever lived.

Kidding aside, the Warner has long been one of our top ever players and as the Oval chorused in 2005 ‘ We only wish he were English’.

A two, three, four... “Diuretics Are A Boy’s Best Friend...”

White Lines

A day trip down to the mystical west country gave us little time to post yesterday, but we've sprinted back into a raft of sports-related goodness today.

First playing a little catch up, we feel compelled to comment on Honda’s withdrawal from Formula One late last week: now if there’s one thing that’s finally convinced us that the credit crunch is real and not a figment of some merchant banker’s imagination, this has got to be it.

Ironically, for a sport in which conspicuous consumption, excess and luxury have become not so much bywords as essential planning components, Honda have left because the sport’s simply become too expensive after having spunked some $200m on the team last year.

What about the rest? Are teams that don’t have a disgusting energy drink backing them up really vulnerable? Is this the first sign Bernie’s circus is finally coming apart at the seams?

Could we see McLaren v Ferrari in a real two horse race next year ie. with no one else taking part?

More importantly what’s poor Jenson going to do for a drive? We hear there’s a possible vacancy on our local milk float....

In breaking news: former England all-rounder (although we use that term loosely) Chris Lewis has been nabbed apparently taking an absolute shedload of Charlie through customs. As our fellow spurter Matt remarked, he always had trouble with his lines, but £200k’s worth? It’s the closest Lewis has ever got to a ton...

Family Fortunes

Watching events unfold in Mumbai through the fish eye of the news reels last week filled us with sufficient horror to momentarily forget our usual sense of spurting joy.

We hesitate to use the drab old saw about giving a real sense of perspective, but those pictures from India delivered it like a Curtly Ambrose bouncer to the temple.

Naturally enough England’s last two one-dayers were cancelled and the side scampered home, to contemplate revised itineraries and debate safety reports and when - indeed, if - they should go back.

Well they should.

Yup easy for us to say, with no WAGs or kids tugging at the heartstrings. But here’s why we think England must return to play the Test series.

The players’ safety is almost guaranteed now; these attacks succeeded mainly because of their surprise nature, that won’t happen again. England’s players will be safe.

There’s certainly an argument too about not letting the terrorists win and making sure their tactics don’t disrupt the normal rhythms of life.

Yet the most compelling reason of all why England should go back is to simply show solidarity and sympathy with the Indian team and its amazing supporters, even if means we end up being beaten hollow (which seems likely).

England and India have had their differences as the power struggle in modern cricket plays out, but events like this remind us that ultimately we’re all part of the same cricketing family. In times like these, the family should look after its own.

Round-up, wind down

It’s a portfolio edition today with tales carefully sliced from around the spurting firmament as we do another one of our lazy round-ups, finding no single issue worthy of our undivided attention.

First to cricket, where following one shellacking and one marginally less embarrassing spanking from India, the colossal intellects in charge of the England one-day side have decided to call up Graeme Swann and are considering issuing a hectic ‘get here sharpish’ to Monty Panesar following the shock revelation that spinners might come in a bit handy on the subcontinent wickets.

Really? You think? By Jove I think they may finally have cracked it.

And now to football and with England due to take on the Hun in a ‘friendly’ tonight, we’re actually fancying the second XI’s chances after the relatively shock revelation that our national side haven’t lost anything in Berlin (four wins, three draws) since 1945 when Bomber Command’s counted them all out, but didn’t quite count them all back in again.

BTW in a ‘let’s mock those wacky continentals moment’ watch out tonight if Bayern Leverkusen’s Patrick Helmes scores, apparently he’ll be casting teary eyes to the skies to dedicate any goals scored to his recently deceased Labrador, Emmy. Bless. (Thanks to The Spoiler for the spot).

Finally homo-erotic glamour pin up sulky Galactico wannabe Cristiano Ronaldo has apparently humbly opined he’s not only the greatest player in the world, but the ‘first, second and third greatest player’.

Another triumph for tact and diplomacy from the boy blunder; rumours that his ego is now grown so swollen and huge it’s negotiating its own separate endorsements and transfer deals are believed to be pretty much right on the mark.

Ashes to Ashes: The Countdown begins

That’s it, we can’t put it off any longer, consider our stopwatch officially checked, wound and the button on top depressed as the official World of Spurt countdown to next year’s Ashes finally and totally begins.

This is it people, there’s no turning back now, prepare yourself for a winter of Aussie-baiting and a summer of Aussie-thrashing as next summer’s Cric-pocalypse, the mother of all series hoves into view.

We promise to license that poodle rock theme tune by Europe, produce our own merchandise and well pretty much everything you’d expect, to give our coverage the edge over the likes of Sky etc.

Hm, too much? Yet we needed something to cheer us up on this bleak Monday afternoon with the rain coming down outside like so many gallons of piss, and there it was... the Aussie’s losing 2-0 to India.

While It’s way too early to call for the moment, we remain as optimistic as a polygamist who thinks ‘third time lucky’, urged on by the biggest and most important factor of all: no Warne and McGrath.

Our spurting second hand can’t tick around quick enough.

Indecent Proposal

And so to Tuesday and our contemplation of Cricket’s latest attempt to prostitute itself like a five quid hooker with Saturday’s forthcoming Stanford Twenty20 match between England and West Indies XIs.

In danger of making the over-the-top gaudiness of the IPL look classy and refined, Stanford’s winner takes all greed fest tag line ‘One night, one shot, $20 million’ also borrows a Highlander-style ‘There can be only one’ to add to its patent ridiculousness.

So what’s next? A live Kurgen-style beheading for the bowler who concedes the million dollar boundary? Why not? That’s bound to get the crowds in and seems tailor made for the attention span of a modern audience.

The Stanford series was supposed to be the ECB’s sweetener to distract the England players from the lure of the IPL in February. But now the whole cricket world’s in hock to India anyway (including both the Aussies and Sri Lanka), it’s become just another cash cow appetiser, before Freddie and KP etc. inevitably depart for Lalit land anyway.

Could it get any more ridiculous? Of course it could! How about Sir Allen allegedly ‘getting close to’ as the BBC put it (or ‘copping a feel of’ as we’d say) of some of the England players WAGs while the players themselves were busy out in the field on Sunday?

It’s cricket’s very own Indecent Proposal and just the kind of story to underline the game’s credibility as it goes galloping over the horizon in a welter of black bats and ridiculous pyjamas.

The old order changeth?

A rare blast of cricket today in the bleak mid erm autumn, where a right of old shoeing for the Aussies results in them being on the wrong end of a 320-run spanking from India in the second test at Mohali.

Now normally we’d bow to no-one in our enjoyment of watching the Aussies squirm on the rack, but strangely we didn’t get as much pleasure out of the result as we thought we might.

Now India’s a tough place to tour and it’s a fool who bets the farm on any single result, even one as statistically massive as this, but we’re suddenly wondering if this signals the start of a shift in the game’s playing as well as its financial power base?

The sheep worriers are still a great side, but no team can survive simultaneously losing the best spin bowler in history as well as one of its finest pacemen and it looks as this might finally be starting to filter through into where it counts - out on the field.

There's still great players there: Ponting, Lee and Hussey, but there's plenty of new and emerging talents too and its not stuffed to the gills with the of champions of old.

The Aussies' dominance has been unchallenged for so long, it seems almost inconceivable that anyone else could take the number one slot, but this result indicates they might just be mortal after all and the first rays of the dawn of a new world order may just be peeping over the horizon.

Now if there’s one thing that cricketing history has taught us it’s that you write off the Aussies at your peril, but it makes the prospect of the Ashes next year seriously interesting.

Better to be lucky than good...

Well there’s plenty of transfer shenanigans on the board today as the window slowly creaks closed, but we’re ignoring the footy and dialling up our gloat gauge to max following England’s absolute thumping of South Africa last night, where we bowled them out for 83 or as it’s known colloquially in Croxley circles ‘a Fox score’*.

A great performance particularly from Stuart Broad who opened the door with a five wicket burst which was then barged wide open by The Fred and The Harminator. Even given the SAFs are looking a bit punch drunk and in danger of going off piste at the end of a long tour, it was still a great performance and a superb result.

England now look a pretty decent one day side, but it helps if you pick a balanced team and play the best man in each position. Selectors you appear to have listened.

Now we have to admit we had our misgivings about KP being named captain, but with three wins on the trot, he certainly seems to have the right stuff.

Nope not inspiring leadership, nor great tactical nouse and nuanced bowling and fielding changes, nor indeed the touchy touchy-feely approach he’s apparently taken to man management.

Nope, what KP has got in spades is luck and as the old saw goes and it’s always better to be lucky than good.

Let’s hope it holds out until around this time next year.


*Named after the lowly totals regularly achieved by the dear old Fox and Hounds, ‘The Worst Team in England’ as the Daily Torygraph once had it.