Dot dash, dash dash dot dash, dot dot, dash dot.

Analysis from today’s England net session start to flow down the wires into my modem hole.

Dash dot dash, dot dot dash, dot, dash dot.

That’s how the Internet works, right? Hyper-fast Morse code? No matter, I’m too busy quantifying the winnables to ponder such technicalities. There are more important matters to determine.

Like who will be my Indian M*n*y P*n*s*r? Who will I drop to stamp my authority? Tendulkar would be too obvious. Zaheer Khan perhaps? Mmmm, England tour would seem ideal timing for that.

The Fletcher internal debate continues…

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Re-organising iPod. Unsure whether Van Morrison should be classified as MOR or Soul. Players absolutely no help. Yuvraj pitches jazz-fusion. 99% sure he’s no idea what he’s talking about. Decide not to call him out on it as I’m not confident what jazz-fusion is either.

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BCCI have suggested I get a minder who can intimidate reporters at end of play press conference.

Liked idea of Korean with bowler hat, but they thought aping a Bond villain was a bit too on the nose. Goddaffi gerdaffi That Libyan bloke’s already taken my second choice, voluptuous Ukrainian nurse, so I’m now edging towards Japanese albino as way to go.

Idea is to just have him sat next to me. Staring out. Saying nothing. We’d be like Penn & Teller, but with two Tellers. No one ever makes reference to him. No one answers questions about him. He just sits there and stares out any reporters being awkward.

Does this sound overly weird? Hard to say. Ran idea past Sachin. He’s not keen. Ok, I get it. YOU wouldn’t suit an evil sidekick.

Jeez, talk about judgmental.

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