Nervous ? Me too.
Tag Archives: Cricket
Jayne Mansfield Caption Competition
This week’s prize is an all-expenses paid trip for one to see the highly acclaimed Derek Pringle on Ice, currently closing at The Theatre Royal, Reculver.
Please supply a caption for the following . (NB: Any entries including the word “Bouncers” will be disqualified).
A Few of My Favourite Swings.
Dew drops from noses and
Murray Mint spitting
Polo Saliva and
Fingernail Lifting
Keep all the sweat off
One side of the thing
This is how we try to get reverse swing.
Bottle-top scratching and
Vaseline Rubbing
Bouncing ball throw-ins and
Mr Sheen Dubbing
Brown coloured earth which
The Skip can rub in
This is how we try to get reverse swing
When the Ump spies
(With his good eye)
That you’ve raised the seam
You protest you innocence,
Throw out your toys,
And leave the field with
Your team
Chin Music: A Whole New Meaning
Image
The Doctor Will Bore You Now
Hello children, are you sitting comfortably ? Then we’ll begin.
Who will be the next Doctor Who ? Who will travel the galaxy, fighting crime and …things ? Who will be filling up endless pages of the Radio Times every week ? Who actually gives a toss ? Well some children and a few lonely, sweaty men apparently do. For some reason, we take a look at the runners and riders.
10-1 fav Dame Judi Fry
International Treasure: One of the most popular men in any era or galaxy, a Twit in every sense and a complete Time Lord. Or Similar. Lets himself down every Lunar Equinox with tales of his crippling depression — which he doesn’t like to talk about. Vows to become the best Doctor ever, or kill himself trying.
33-1 Keith Vaz MP
Politician / TV Celebrity: Well, he’s on everything else. With his trusted side-kick, Diane Abbott, Dr Vag would travel the Universe on any bandwagon that happens to be passing. May appeal to the ethnic voter. Though probably not.
50-1 Jade Dernbach
Cricketer [subs please check]: Has a huge following all over the Solar System. There are undiscovered life forms on Alpha Centauri who can already pick his slower ball. Reputation as a great death bowler won’t be exposed as a myth, as The Doctor never dies. His tattoos may scare smaller children. His bowling won’t.
66-1: Stuart Hall
Mailbag Sewer: The ever popular TV host, commentator and Mancunian Fiddler would bring with him his legendary catchphrase “And Here Come the Martians / Policemen” and a ready-made dipstick (possibly stolen from Arthur Ellis. Wipe it — we don’t know where it’s been). Unlikely to be allowed within seven light years of a female assistant.
150-1 Dr Marcus Welby, ABC
Devil-Dodger: The current Archbishop of Canterbury comes complete with all-seeing, omnipotent, imaginary friend. Doesn’t seem to have anything else to do. Hopes that there aren’t any of those homosexualist types on the Planet of the Daleks. Was branded a “wanker” by a CofE priest this week. Possibly won’t be the last time that happens.
250-1 Mr Horrible
Journalist, Surfer and Sharp Single Correspondent: Recently released from the clutches of the legendary “Dickheads of Time”, Mr Horrible resides in his secret hideaway in the Catacombs of gay Paris, knocking out (steady !) endless rants to this very publication and to anyone else who may be passing. A match for any passing Davros or Cyberman, Horrible is a rank outsider due to his love of the C-word before the 9 o’clock watershed. Little fucker.
Not Losing a Daughter, but Gaining a Useful Lower Middle Order Batsman
An address composed by the Revd Stewart Ftyfe, who was umpiring/officiating at the wedding of some cricket nut and thought he’d come up with something appropriate. Sent into TMS yesterday and readout by Aggers live on air. Lovely stuff.
Mine, All Mine, I Tell Ya !
Should North Korea calm down a bit, and we’re not plunged into WWIII; if this latest in a series of Ice Ages which we’re experiencing finally thaws for a little while; if Gideon Osborne doesn’t lead us all a merry dance into the jaws of Hell and Damnation; if the world doesn’t end just because society allows women priests & gay marriage; if those 6 lottery balls don’t drop in the correct order, allowing me to off-fuck to the Turks & Caicos Islands where I shall be waited upon 24 hours a day by the fragrant Wei Leng and her sister, the slightly over-ripe Mildred; should my suspected case of IBS clear up enough for me to spend any time at all slightly more than 27 yards away from a bathroom; should I not be called upon by Andy Flower to come out of retirement to lead the bowling attack against the Aussies this summer (when we all know my 7 year old niece Petunia could roll that lot over); and, indeed, should there be any Australian professional cricketers who make the trip over to the UK this summer, having avoided being dropped or sent home by the latest management numpties, then I shall be at Lords on Sunday 21st July to hopefully witness an innings and small change defeat of the Colonials/Inmates XI.
Thank you , Mr Postman.
Telly Selly Time:
Troubling the Scorers

Lords Cricket Ground, London, August 2009. Jesuit Spitfires vrs Opus Dei Casuals. Final of The CCCCC (Catholic Church Club Cricket Cup), or the Pontiff Playoff, as it’s known. Standing umpire ‘Jordie’ Bergoglio signals a Leg Bye, denying the batsman, Cardinal K Fiddler of Baltimore, his debut first class century. Opus Dei went onto to win by courtesy of a Mother Superior run rate (Duckworth Lewis) (source: PopeCrickPix)
Who Nameth This Child ?
Gotta love this from last week’s Independent Online.
Billy ‘36′ Twelvetrees and the best nicknames in sport
Nicknames perform important functions. Some represent the high regard in which the recipient is held: Ace, The Panther, Big Man, Love Machine, that sort of thing. But enough of my school days. Others confer a sense of belonging, of acceptance to a group: Mr Cricket, The Kid, Eric The Red.
But, personally, I prefer the ones that give me a good old belly laugh.
Billy ‘36’ Twelvetrees
What a start to the Six Nations. I’ll let the proper rugby writers dissect England’s new sense of adventure, Ireland’s thrilling near-collapse in Cardiff and Italy’s monumental achievement in overturning the hapless French.
What I want to celebrate here is the emergence onto the international stage of the man with the finest nickname in the modern game.
Respect to Geordan Murphy. It’s thanks to his Dublin accent that we arrive at this piece of mastery. As in “Twelve trees are tirty six.”
Mark Waugh – ‘Afghanistan’
Life isn’t fair, is it? Mark Waugh was one of the most elegant batsmen ever to take the crease. He was graceful, technically correct, possessed of a cover drive that somehow managed to be both languid and violent, and able to whip good-length balls from outside off-stump through mid-wicket better than anyone bar Viv Richards. Not only that but he remains the finest slip fielder I’ve ever seen, gobbling up catches off seamers and spinners alike in kid-leather hands.
And what nickname did this giant of the game get saddled with, being less of an early flourisher than his brother? ‘Afghanistan’: the forgotten Waugh.
Such is the luck of the draw when you’re a twin, I guess, particularly when that twin is the relentless Steve Waugh (another epithet Mark had to put up with was ‘Junior’). However, one member of the Barmy Army once tried to redress the balance by shouting, “Oi, Stephen. Best batsman in the world? You ain’t even the best batsman in your family!”
Alex Loudon – ‘Minotaur’
Cricket seems to throw up amusing nicknames for fun. The late Graham Dilley was known as ‘Picca’. Allan Lamb was, perhaps more obviously, called ‘Legga’.
My favourite of all time, though, even surpassing dear old Mark Waugh, was the title bestowed on Alex Loudon. Although a highly talented all-rounder, Loudon never quite fulfilled his potential, gaining a solitary One-Day International cap for England. He became known as ‘Minotaur’ because, as someone put it, “that’s all he ever went on.”
Still, Loudon had the last laugh. He quit the game and started dating Pippa Middleton.
‘One Size’ Fitz Hall
I shall never, ever tire of this one.
I could go on about how appropriate a moniker it is for a journeyman pro with an uncompromising style who’s equally at home in midfield as at centre-half.
But, really, it’s just a very funny pun.
Martin ‘Chariots’ Offiah
Brilliant on so many levels, this. As the man himself once explained when asked why he got the nickname:
“Because I could run very fast, I suppose,” he told the interviewer, exhibiting the sort of incisiveness that brought him 501 career tries, “and it rhymed with how people pronounce my last name.”
Reading between the lines, “how people pronounce” his last name is not the way that it should be pronounced. Something like ‘OFF-y-ah’ is more correct, I believe. But, hey, let’s not let that ruin a high-quality piece of wordplay.
Stuart ‘Britsa’ Broad
I know I’ve banged on about cricketers a bit. But I can’t resist finishing on yet another.
You probably won’t have heard this. Mainly because the group among which it’s been shared has, thus far, been quite exclusive. For me and a select band of cricket fans, the current England set-up includes characters such as ‘Tinker’, ‘Foxy’, ‘Yogi’, ‘Previous’ and ‘Vesta’. But there’s one who stands head and shoulders above the others, and not just because he’s 6’5”.
Ladies and gentlemen, in case you haven’t read the sub-head above, I give you Stuart ‘Britsa’ Broad.
Beat that if you can…














