Surrey v Middlesex Twenty20 match report

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Long-serving King Cricket contributor, SimonC, writes:

Twenty20 being the all new whizzbang format that appeals to even the most curmudgeonly of non-cricket fans, we rounded up twelve grumbling malcontents to see this completely dead rubber at the Oval. Many were the piercing questions we were forced to field from our eager friends: “When is all this over?” “How much did you say this cost again?” and “So, who won?” were just some of the finer points of cricket that we covered.

Waiting for latecomers outside Hobbs Gate, I accosted a complete stranger and demanded of him: “Are you a left-arm chinaman?” since I could’ve sworn I had recognised the Atheist of viddy-blog fame. “No,” he said, but in a slightly shifty-looking manner. He then ran off casting glances back at me, presumably to make sure I wasn’t carrying a knife (I was, as it happens, but just a fruit knife so he was safe unless he has a particularly thin peel). I remain convinced that it was him and that he was just playing hard to get.

Later, in the middle of an animated discussion about zero-gravity coitus, two obliging pigeons decided to mate by the boundary in front of an embarrassed-looking steward, raising the loudest cheer of the evening. I won’t reveal what part of his anatomy the steward was then asked to “give us a wave” with; suffice to say he did not oblige.

After the match I lost my friends in the Fentiman Arms and ended up discussing Maltese rugby with a civil servant who had just returned from Afghanistan. Then I went home and had two cups of tea and a bit of shisha (apple flavour). I pondered bringing the shisha to the cricket next time, but realised that our draconian anti-smoking laws forbid it. I briefly considered writing to my MP, but instead went to bed. I dreamt of Lego batsmen and (alarmingly) Boris Johnson, who bowled a bit of off-spin but went wicketless.


Mike Gatting wasn't receiving the King Cricket email when he dropped that ludicrously easy chance against India in 1993.


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  1. How strange – we’ve had a conversation like yours fairly recently inspired by the Black Castle track Male Pattern Bondage – you know the one:

    Astronauts in space.
    Astronauts in space, bondage.
    Astronauts suits in space.
    Bondage is space, astronauts

    We felt the lyrics didn’t run true because although you’d have to be tied or roped together it wouldn’t work if you were wearing space suits – unless of course you could have space suits with some sort of docking system built in

  2. Very odd. I think our conversation was less lyrical in nature, and more based around those planes NASA uses to train astronauts. No problems with spacesuits, then, but a severe danger of flying emesis, which in my experience tends to be something of a mood killer.

  3. Heh, I did indeed – I replied at the bottom. I submitted the match report before I saw that, though. KC has a backlog, that’s how many roving reporters he has out there.

  4. Tell me about that back-log … Yes – just seen your replies to The Ath, i am so behind the cricket-blog gossip.

    For the record, i was Anonymous in that stream of posts… couldn’t resist it. But the Ath is too busy with real life to ever read this post, i guess, so he’ll never know.

  5. I would say he had the carriage of a young Greville Stevens, the angular features of a Jardine and the surprising turn of speed of a Gatting who has scented the buffet.

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