Wednesday, 23 August 2017

Come on Blowers, you gotta play ball

Come on Blowers, you gotta play ball
BE honest now. Is there a woman out there who actually understands cricket? I mean really understands it? (Shocking question! My cousin, Carol, could probably teach most men a thing or two about cricket. Comment from Web Editor)

If so I’d like to meet her so she could explain (in easy-to-understand-for-blondes-language, obviously) the following cricketing quandary: how comes a bunch of blokes dressed in pyjamas can spend five whole days lobbing balls at one another and then declare the match... a draw?

That’s question number one.

Question number two is: how come so many men (including a certain bloke that resides not a million miles away from me) can sleep peacefully and easily through a baby screaming all night with colic, but manage to rouse themselves at 4am to watch the Ashes from Down Under on Channel 4, and then go off to work five hours later without even a bleary eye?

There are lots more questions where those two came from (the obsession with tea? Googlies? Silly mid-off? Could anyone but an old Etonian have invented this baffling lexicon?) but by now I’m expecting an awful lot of ladies to be nodding their heads in rueful and knowing agreement.

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