SUITS
YOU, SIR
The sun shone brightly on the day Lard Arse Soames came to open our newly refurbished Pavilion. Councillor Bradbury stood in admiration of the great (big) man. Not because of his status or his composed public speaking, but because of what he was wearing …. an ill fitting suit and a pair of ‘Davross Stylee’ Ox Blood Italian loafers. Teenage girls in short skirts served the alcohol & nibbles whilst Staplers and Village Weirdos mingled together. The ceremony was over surprisingly quickly considering Bradbury was also making a speech. So on with the game. Councillor B wins the toss and elects to bat.
Went in a No.1 but could only manage a supporting
role as he was out-blazed in a 90+ stand with Kev Piddle. Bowled a few pies
which were dispatched with appropriate disdain.
Turned up at the ground dressed as a young, relaxed
Nicholas Soames - pastel coloured polo shirt, beige Chinos, a pair of ‘Davross
Stylee’ Ox Blood Italian loafers and a pot belly - nice. Top batting though
(helped by 3 glasses of red wine) but a poor fielding performance, dropping 2
dolly catches including an embarrassing collision with Hibbe Jnr.
Drank vast volumes of red wine before the match
started and so had to bat with a mouth as dry as a whippet’s ball-bag on race
night. The alcohol obviously helped him to see straighter as he managed to
score 41 runs. Was usual ‘Colemanesque’ self behind the stumps.
Has now turned 18 and already has more hair on his
chin than Pike. Has some way to go to catch up with Daddy though. Typically
elegant batting display which should have bagged him more than 28 runs, but was
bowled in rather unfortunate fashion, the ball barely clipping the top of the
bail. Was appointed Captain for the next match due to the pending absence of
Councillor Bradbury.
Said he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to open the
batting due to being mentally exhausted from his 20 second Introductory Speech
prior to the Pavilion Opening. Rumours that he was too embarrassed after his 82
ball, 17 run innings the previous week are unsubstantiated. Demoted himself to
No.5 and was caught for a silver duck. So that’s 17 runs in 84 balls now.
Declared at 247 – 6.
Used the powers of his beard to score an unbeaten 38
at the end of our innings. On the outside, said he couldn’t believe the
declaration didn’t come earlier, but inside he was secretly delighted with the
opportunity for an easy average booster. Bowled an over of pies and was amazed
that he didn’t get spanked for the usual 28.
Picked up a smart 25 runs in a partnership with Papa
Barker and bowled some useful away swingers in a short burst towards the end of
the game. Arrived at the pub after the match in some rather peculiar footwear
….. well, I suppose they only look peculiar if you consider 20 year old, dog
chewed plastic flip flops a bit odd.
The realisation that he is gradually turning into his
father has forced Christian into a new hair cut. This will only serve to merely
slow the process down. Not stop it. Stupid boy. As we sailed past 240 for the
loss of only 5 wickets, he was still to be seen in full batting gear practising
his forward defensive outside the Pavilion, just in case he would be needed to
use up a few overs. Stupid boy. Announced that Dave Ross’ Mrs “was probably
quite fit in her day”.
Didn’t bat, but bowled nicely. Exemplary as the newly
appointed Official SCC Scorer. Says she gets through 2 pencils per session on
Bradbury’s dots alone. Has yet to try out the new Pavilion showers.
Umpired with 6 stones in one pocket and a bottle of
Merlot in the other. Class is something you’re born with. You can’t learn it.
The infamous H1BBE number plate is now attached to a bright red Mazda MX5. We
retract that earlier statement about class.
Would have taken more wickets if he wasn’t supported
by The Key-Stone Cops in the field (the Kev Middle v Christian Hibberd
collision a prime example). Used the powers of his mutating hair to save
himself from having to bat.