Laurence Elderbrook accommodates an extra opener
We have one too many openers in this match, so I offer to move down to number four to allow one of them to bat at three. He doesn’t have the range of shots to profit in the middle order, whereas I do.
The second wicket falls and the slight delay means that an expectant crowd has an even greater need to see Laurence Elderbrook grace this match.
I compose myself in front of the mirror. Resplendent in my cream flannels, I look immaculate. It is time.
I adopt a fast-paced march to the crease to show that I mean business. The opposition are immediately put on the back foot. This drama will unfold according to my script.
I take my guard and await my first ball. I look the bowler right in the eye as he approaches. There will be only one winner here.
It is a short ball. I play back, but straight. As the ball pitches, my eagle eyes immediately pick up every detail of the ball. It is misshapen. It is slightly flattened and as it pitches it doesn’t bounce as a proper spherical ball should. It instead keeps low; dangerously low; low enough to actually go underneath my bat.
There is a hollow clunk as the ball strikes the stumps. I look at the umpire. I implore him with my eyes. That ball should have been changed. It was not fit for cricket. But it is to no avail – I am out.
At this point I take the only option available to a man in this situation. I swing by bat as hard as I can and knock the remaining two stumps clean out of the ground. I chase after one and as it lies on the grass, I swing the bat again. I swing it like an axe and drive its edge into the middle of the stump.
The stump half-snaps while my bat is hugely dented. I toss the bat away and let fly a huge, bestial roar.
As the echoes fade and the awestruck crowd look on transfixed, I collect my bat, tuck it under my arm and make my way off the pitch with the serene dignity afforded to only the very few.
The players and the crowd admire my restraint. They admire me.
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We are still a bit mental about slow cookers
We’re thinking of registering as a trademark the phrase: ‘Britain’s least-favourite feature’.
It’s not going to stop us putting up another thrill a minute installment next week though.
Perhaps if he had a funnier name?
I think a funnier name would render the whole thing altogether too thrilling for comfort.
Besides, he does have feelings you know.
This is my first time with Laurence and I must say. Here is a man Id go miles to meet.
Well I bloody love Laurence.
The ONLY way I would love him more would be if he wore white shorts and a black vest, but, alas, even in the unruly days of 20 20 that seems unlikely.
Are you sure this isn’t Suave – all this RAGE and hulk smashing of wickets?
Brian, are you Laurence Elderbrook by any chance?
You all know the rules of this place: REPEAT UNTIL FUNNY!
if it’s god awful now, give it a few, and you will laugh.
Brian how about s wee white scarf around the next. In proper Jardine fashion ?
^ Ops that should neck !
No I am not Laurence Elderbrook. I’m too angry. KC wouldn’t print it. He’s too scared. Laurence Elderbrook is like The Bill to my The Wire. Laurence Elderbrook is Reg Hollis and I’m Avon Barksdale. I could go on. But you get the picture. If you watch The Bill and The Wire.
Hello Damith.
No scarf. Just vest and shorts.
Ceci, definitely not me. I can’t be arsed to write on my own site most of the time!
Although I’ll happily whore myself for money like kingy and Jrod.
Also, I don’t get out that quickly. It takes a bowler 6 delivieries to work me out.
Kingy?