Those of us on tour since October haven’t quite reached the point of shouting out “Good evening Delaware!” during post match interviews, but we’re certainly edging in that direction. I guess there are only so many times you can criss-cross Australia before the airport departure boards start to merge into a monotonous monochrome blur of garbled information that’s lost all meaning. It’s the kind of nonsensical hyper reality you normally only encounter when taking guard off Billy Bowden.
It makes you wonder whether all the air travel involved with modern international cricket effects an umpire’s ability to do his job, or if in Billy’s case the jet lag actually calms down his normal, erratic, behaviour. Perhaps we should give him a couple of week’s acclimatisation before standing in a Test and see if he still tries to give the square leg umpire out lbw?
Today’s flight up from Hobart to the jewel of New South Wales proved a nightmare when I drew the short straw and had to sit next to Swanny as he when though his entire “entering Sydney” routine. I know why that cat was hiding under the floorboards now; it must have been daydreaming of smothering him with a Qantas sleeping pillow too.
I wonder if you can get an admissible DNA sample off one of those things? If you can I’d need a lawyer who could get me off with even the most ridiculous, obviously bullshit, defence imaginable.
Perhaps someone in the touring party knows a barrister like that?
Shit, I think I’ve just worked out the perfect crime…