As a young(ish) man about town with a blossoming career in international sporting officialdom, a radiant smile and a stunning head of hair, I seem to have it all. But my reputation has taken a battering of late after I was publically barracked for prematurely ending a high-profile match – it was my own fault, I panicked after being caught admiring my back-combing technique in the digital display of a light meter.
I’m struggling to cope with this sudden loss of popularity and despite the calming presence of a beautiful tapering effect at the nape of my neck – thanks once again to the skilled scissors of Maurice from Kool Kuts of Karachi – I’m struggling to think how I can get myself back into the public’s good books.
A friend with experience in marketing has suggested re-branding my image but I’m too set in my ways to consider tram-lines or a crew cut and there’s only so much top end hair product I can afford on my salary.
All this has left me scratching my beautifully manicured head.
Well, that is a problem isn’t it? But not as big of a pickle as when I was dropped from the England test team after making 246 not out against India. It was Headingley ’67, a long hot summer and a disappointing one as I just failed to get my expected 2,000 runs for the season. The England captain was Brian Close…
(anecdote continues for several thousand words without ever addressing the question)