We’ve lived near Manchester Airport for most of our life and we have never seen a light in the sky quite like the one we saw last night. It was off-white, indistinct and almost certainly an alien spacecraft.
Aliens have, quite understandably, come to earth to see whether Warwickshire can beat Hampshire to secure the County Championship. We can’t know who they are supporting. All we can do is hope that results go their way so that they don’t lose their rag and enslave humanity.
Not knowing where there allegiance lies, we will continue supporting Mike Carberry and Neil McKenzie in their efforts to thwart the Bears as this is the only way Lancashire might win. If the aliens do turn out to be Warwickshire supporters and Lancashire do somehow take the title, let it be known that we are prepared to meekly switch allegiance for next season should our new extraterrestrial overlords deem this necessary.
We ate some sauerkraut last night and there was something not quite right about it. We’ve not had the jar all that long and sauerkraut keeps, so it’s a bit weird.
Most of you will have reached the obvious conclusion upon hearing this news. Clearly someone, somewhere, is so impatient to find out who will win the County Championship, they have gone to the trouble of developing a tool that can accelerate time.
Fortunately, whoever it is hasn’t yet worked out how to operate the tool properly, but these random pockets of accelerated time could be problematic. Imagine your new jeans suddenly develop the old jeans hole that you always get in that weird spot. Imagine a baby with a beard and grey hair. IMAGINE AN UNEXPECTEDLY COLD CUP OF TEA.
Whoever’s responsible for accelerating time like this, please be patient. Even if you’re a ghost and don’t care about humans whatsoever, it’s still in your interests to wait. You might be stuck on earth for eternity and that’s a really long time. You should welcome a bit of county cricket tension. It’s something to be savoured, not rushed through like a set of adverts featuring the Gillette Fusion Proglide Challenge ad with that irritating, whooping man in it.
Join us. Revel in this experience. Will Steven Croft and Luke ‘VVS’ Proctor be able to secure maximum batting points for Lancashire? Will Rikki Clarke and Boyd Rankin be able to dismiss Hampshire? Why not sit back with a nice big bowl of sauerkraut and wait to find out instead of meddling with the fabric of existence, like a complete arsehole?
We were driving home tonight and one side of the road was closed, quite possibly as a result of the earth being thrown off its axis a bit last week.
There were so many people rushing home to catch the last three overs of the day that not all of our cars could get past the affected area before the temporary lights changed. As a result, many of us got stuck, blocking oncoming traffic.
To make matters worse, we then heard a siren. It was an ambulance and all the trapped cars had to somehow try and get out of the way. It was pandemonium.
As we pulled into a hedge, enraging a badger and inadvertently giving rise to untold subsequent destruction as a consequence, we realised why the ambulance was needed.
Clearly, one of the Lancashire-supporting ghosts that had newly arrived on this plane of existence had found out about the hundreds scored today by Shivnarine Chanderpaul and James Hildreth. Feeling understandably irate, it had chinned someone.
The County Championship will end this week, just so long as the world hasn’t ended before then. The excitement is ripping our reality apart at the seams.
When we got up this morning, we weren’t at all surprised to find that our jumper had fallen off the back of a chair and onto the floor. Combine increasing numbers of invaders from the spirit world with Simon Kerrigan taking 9-51 for Lancashire, winning the match against Hampshire with just four minutes to go, and it was inevitable that the world would be knocked off its axis.
This time the world was knocked off its axis such that a jumper fell off the back of a chair. How bad will it be next time?
We made ourself a cup of tea this morning, we started drinking it and then we went upstairs for a bit. When we came back down, the mug was empty. No-one else was in the house.
We know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say that we were half-asleep, drank the tea and either didn’t notice or forgot.
Well you’re wrong.
We have a finely tuned internal measurement system and we KNOW when we’ve finished a cup of tea. If we drink half a cup of tea first thing in the morning, we’re half a cup out all day long. We drink the first half of every subsequent cup, but then we feel like we’ve finished and stop. Only when we’re in the mood for our next brew do we realise our error, at which point we have to drink the remaining half a cup of cold tea (because you can’t leave it).
So what happened this morning? We’ll tell you what happened.
WG Grace’s ghost drank our cup of tea. That’s what happened.
Think about it. If you were WG Grace, wouldn’t you come back from the dead to see the last couple of matches of this season’s County Championship? Of course you would. And wouldn’t you really fancy a brew when you arrived? Unquestionably.
The County Championship is putting everyone in danger. There are ghosts in our midst. And they’re drinking our beverages.