Posted by Edwardian writes:
Cambridge is heaving at the best of times, but taking the quiet back streets from the station to Fenner’s was very pleasant. A few ‘good mornings’ and I was there by 10.30am.
I was there to meet my wife’s uncle Spike who said he would do his best to get there before eleven, having had to help his wife set up her vegan demo on the market place.
I had prepared German salami sandwiches with Stoke’s Dijon mustard. The pavilion was pretty much empty save for a few sterling souls roaring the tea urn to life and preparing lunch no doubt.
I bought a water from the bar and was asked whether, ‘I was in or out?’ With all the Brexit shenanigans in mind I was reluctant to say ‘out’ but I had my sandwiches after all.
Spike strolled in with his usual, ‘hello chief’ and we settled down for the day’s play. The pavilion got a bit livelier, so much so that we comprised a heavy throng of perhaps 15 people.
Spike proposed a beer and we sank a couple of Old Speckled Hens. As the sun rounded on the pavilion everything went a bit hazy and my scorecard went a bit nuts. I gave up on it.
Spike decided that Akil Greenidge was a cricketer to look out for in the near future. At lunch the players came in and began to wind in a lunch that was spicy, I think. Spike had designs on lunch in his car, so we ambled across the outfield and worked our way through the salami sandwiches, Spike’s neat smoke salmon numbers and a half-bottle of Italian white wine.
We talked about cricket in Italy, Zambia and Warsaw. Back in the pavilion before 2pm I needed to loose off the beer and wine and found myself next to Steven Finn at the urinals.
Play started again, and as keen as I am, the world went hazy again in a very nice way. Three of my companions were already asleep and I was drifting off too before one old chap said to no-one in particular, ‘Poulson, now that’s a very interesting name.’
Everyone was awake now and waiting for the punchline. Five minutes or more passed before he said, ‘I went to school with someone called Poulson.’
I had dinner priorities, so had to leave at 5pm, I have to say, reluctantly.
Send your match reports to king@kingcricket.co.uk. If it’s a professional match, on no account mention the cricket itself. If it’s an amateur match, feel free to go into excruciating detail.
Cracking stuff. The players of Cambridge MCCU will be delighted that “professional match report rules” have been applied unto them.
I think it was a shame that Edwardian had to leave at 5pm before the Poulson joke has been fully explained.
Thought some readers, being fans of Moeen Ali and [not fans] of Donald Trump, might appreciate this blogpost title: “Name an athlete more unlike Donald Trump than Moeen Ali“.
I didn’t write the blog, by the way, and I don’t know much about it other than the author’s apparent love of The Moeen and [not love] for The Donald.
There is a tension here caused by the FinnySteve urinal episode. Are other readers wondering whether the lanky ganglotron was struggling with length that day?
Yes, I have s few issues with that aspect of the report.
Firstly, it has s touch of the Cricket Badger about it. Parenthetically, this week’s cricketer spotted is an absolute classic.
Secondly, surely you should have said something witty to the lad. “Still not taking the new ball, I see”, for example.
Still, a cracking match report, Edwardian. Absolutely cracking.
‘Still spraying it all over the place, old chap?’
Rather let everyone down on that front. I’ve heard Finn talk on the radio and he appears to have a good sense of humour. Truth is I was a bit squiffy at the time. It was slippy underfoot in the lavs and I was a bit worried about measuring my length, as the old saying has it.
. . . So, no ball by ball commentary, I’m afraid.
Tuesday, July 8, 1997. Alastair Campbell’s Diaries Voume Two (1997-1999). At the NATO summit with Tony Blair.
Unbelievably gorgeous hostess. During the break, it became clear that Clinton and TB felt exactly the same. There was a bizarre scene during a break, in the Gents. Several leaders, including Clinton, TB, Prodi, Kok and Kohl, were all having a pee in a row of stand-up urinals. Clinton turned around and said: “Isn’t this the greatest picture that was never taken?” TB told him the story of the time Churchill moved away from Attlee while they were peeing together. Attlee looked hurt. Churchill explained: “Every time you see something big you want to nationalise it”.
I dread to think how it all became so clear. Also feel a bit sorry for poor old Wim Kok. Nominative determinism in action?
Wim Kok was preceded (as Dutch Prime Minister) by Ruud Lubbers. Nominative determinism following a supreme nominative spoonerism.
That is quite, quite superb. Is there a spooning equivalent of cockney rhyming slang? If not, it deserves founding, just on the thrust of Ruud Lubbers.