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Those of you who don’t know can probably guess: he’s injured.
He had his knee operated on in April and he’ s out for the season. He made it to August last season and that’s about as much cricket as he’s ever managed in one go.
So Simon Jones sits in the SWALEC stadium and the camera lingers on him as England’s bowlers toil. The subtext is ‘if only’ which is a sign of how bad things are.
Simon Jones is widely considered a magical, match-winning bowler purely because there’s an absence of evidence to the contrary. He’s untainted. Two five wicket hauls against Australia (not to be sniffed at, but with a few tail-enders in amongst the wickets) do not Malcolm Marshall make.
The view of him as an England match-winner is largely a fiction and says more about what’s happening on the pitch now than anything he himself ever did.
It’s hard not to feel for Jones though. We find ourself plummeting into despair when we can’t find a clean teaspoon. We wouldn’t be able to cope with the grim inevitability of the lengthy injury setbacks Jones faces every time he’s been off crutches for longer than a fortnight.
My advice to you is to buy a few more teaspoons, thus reducing the risk of despair-inducing teaspoon shortages chez KC.
We’ve got three.
Three’s not enough, is it?
What’s wrong with Jones? I ask, what’s wrong with the whole nation? Fred looks sozzled. Again.
If I was out there playing, I’d prefer to be sozzled.
I guess this is a clever way of not talking too much about what is happening on the field in Cardiff.
However, unclean teaspoons are a menace to the human race, as you have rightfully mentioned.
Is this a new English trait? Whereby if you don’t talk about it, it doesn’t exist.
Like what’s happening at Cardiff or the last Ashes?
Last Ashes? You mean 2005???…yes, we’re happy to talk about them lots…
(oh god, as I type there seems to be some Australian celebration on the telly…I can’t look…if it’s in Wales it doesn’t count, right?)