Brett Lee doesn’t play due to exhaustion and knee infection. McGrath still out. England field the same team.
England win the toss and bat first, scoring 437 by Saturday lunchtime. Australia, lacking the batting guts of Brett Lee, are bowled out for 226, and are asked to follow on. Scoring 343 in their second innings, they are all out by Sunday teatime, setting England 133 to win. England openers make a hash of it, and England are 67 for 6 at teatime. Geraint Jones and Ashley Giles then grind out another 50 before another wicket falls.
With just 16 runs to win, an overexuberant streaker of undeterminable sex distracts the batsmen, bowlers, umpires and commentators, resulting in two rapid wickets. With the last man in and ten still to score to win the match, Hoggard slams a six into the BBC commentary box, the ball landing in a chocolate cake, sent to the TMS team by a Mrs Trellis of North Wales. Distracted beyond redemption, Fred Truman who was providing the colour commentary says he’s never seen anything like it before, shaking his head.
England win when Hoggard drives a straight four off a full toss from Shane Warne, but nobody notices. Chaos ensues.
We are Henery the Eighth we are,
Henery the Eighth we are, we are,
We got married to the widows next door,
They’d been married seven times before.
A linguist of my acquaintance has remarked upon the use of the plural in the case of a team name. All I can say is, it’s we when we win, and it’s them when they lose.
Yup, it’s right. And darned hard to get the hang of. I think it’s like that with businesses (the bank are sending me a debit card) and other groups (the family are coming for tea) as well.
Right. We’ll all bring some e-food and a bottle of virtual and have a bit of a picnic while we follow the match tomorrow. Steve, you can bring the Cornish Pasties and cream teas. Martin, you can let someone else have my share of the jellied eels. I’ll bring some Lincolnshire sausages (with a camping stove) and some nice stuffed chine. Do they have any regional delicacies in Reading?
I am actually having as non-virtual picnic on Friday, as I have a day off.
Avanutria and I will be taking a gentle bike ride along the Grand Union Canal, which runs from London to Birmingham for about 150 miles. A few years ago I cycled the whole thing in two days, but this time we’ll only do a couple of miles, before cracking out the champagne and oysters. Or Dry Blackthorn Cider and Melton Mowbray pork pies.
Cricket will definitely be listened to, hope I don’t drop in the canal celebrating all the runs England will be scoring.