I held this back because King Cricket gets first dibs on Rob Key-related things. Unfortunately Rob bided his time on an England recall for a bit longer than any of us mortals might’ve hoped, but The Day is finally here. Sort of. He played!
Sent to England cricket coach Peter Moores on May 1, 2008. A response is still awaited.
Dear Mr Moores,
I hope you will forgive my impertinence, but I am writing in the hope of convincing you to select a certain Mr RWT Key for the upcoming Test series against New Zealand. While I obviously bow to your superior knowledge on all matters technical, it seems to me that (with respect) it is a lack of vision that has prevented Mr Key from being more frequently picked in the past.
To address this, I have prepared an image that shows the true glory that Rob’s return to Test cricket would represent:
Rob Key and capybara, rampant on a field, vert
Here we can see Rob after a scintillating triple century at Lords, being borne from the scene of his triumph by his faithful steed, the capybara. The New Zealand players are difficult to make out, but I assure you that they are, to a man, weeping at the majesty of the occasion.
Now, the Australians will surely fight back with some sort of marsupial, but I hear so frequently of the importance of “momentum” in the modern game that I feel that the combined mass of Rob Key and the world’s largest rodent is not to be lightly passed up. Such a partnership would surely be unstoppable, both figuratively and literally, and I commend it to you with my whole heart and both of my trousers.
Yours etc.,
Simon C
aged 28 1/2.
In a development that has shocked Fleet Street, it transpired today that the world has run out of news. Pensioners were seen roaming the street, befuddled at the lack of stimulus from their cathode ray sets, and commuters on the Tube were heard to wonder, “don’t we have some kind of bat-signal that summons Amy Winehouse?” Guardian Editor Alan Rusbridger, interviewed by the Daily Telegraph in a vain hope of a newsworthy utterance, responded:
I don’t know; aren’t the government trying to ban anything at the moment? That’s usually good. Has someone given Max Clifford a ring?
Never wanting to be seen to let The Public down, the BBC gamely tried to wish news into existence, but its efforts only highlighted the global shortage:
Rupert Murdoch is believed to have secretly assembled a crack team of news-creating professionals, working in secrecy to concoct a global pretext for newpaper vending, but the effort was abandoned when it was pointed out that this was the plot of the awful James Bond outing Tomorrow Never Dies.
Indeed, all fresh newsmaking efforts have thus far been in vain, and the assembled members of the press are currently reduced to asking each other for comments in between running repeats of past glories. In one particularly upsetting incident, a confused Michael Buerk had to be turned away from a central London drinking establishment after he stormed the bar and demanded to know where the Ethiopian infants were being kept. He was last seen heading north on Charing Cross road, berating pedestrians with an unplugged lip mike and a heavily-gnawed fried chicken thigh. Members of the public are advised to phone their local news bureau if he does anything particularly outrageous.
Or, “what I’ve learnt from cricketers.”
A side-effect of following a series that takes place entirely while I’m asleep is that I end up reading rather more cricketing ramblings than is strictly healthy. Good has come out of it, however, as it turns out that I have a major failing I need to address. We’re not talking about my tendency to go deeper than normal at third man or anything like that; it’s more basic. Here’s Shane Warne:
“To win 5-0 is a fantastic achievement by this group of guys. This team’s played some sensational cricket through the whole summer. England have played some good cricket at times too, but when the big moments came the Australian team stood up.”
Ricky Ponting elaborates: “For the guys to stand up, myself to get some runs and to feel I’ve led the side well has been enjoyable.”
Even English cricketers are at it, as Ian Bell goes still further: “Every one of us needed to stand up and be counted. It was seriously important to do well here.”
You see where I’m going with this, and it’s not abuse of the reflexive pronoun. No, my problem is that I spend almost all of every day sitting down. Standing up is not part of my office repertoire, let alone pointless enumeration. At no time, moreover, do I ever feel tempted to put my hand up or come to the party. Standing up for no reason in an office just doesn’t work.
“What are you doing?”
“Standing up.”
“Uh, okay. Why?”
“Just because. Erm … would you mind counting me?”
“What?”
“It’s sort of important. Please?”
“Er, okay… ‘one’.”
“Thanks.”
“Feel better?”
“Not really. Canapè?”
Goddamn cricketers.