5th Test : The End of The Beginning

Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.
- Winston Churchill, The Lord Mayor's Luncheon, Mansion House 10 November 1942

England 332 & 373-9d beat Australia 160 & 348 by 197 runs

Greetings Barmies. First, I would like to apologise for my silence. I have only just about recovered from my celebrations. Sunday night was an emotional one. I headed to Shoreditch to ride on The White Horse at The Church Of Blue Eyes and celebrate our glorious victory. In a state of disbelief, I danced the night away alongside some of the capital's finest fashionistas. It was a most curious evening. They all seemed unaware of the history that had passed before us earlier in the day. Having been in Regent's Park alongside fourteen thousand joyous jingoists, it was surreal to be at a party where The Ashes was an absent force. It is a gross understatement to label my companions non cricketing aficionados.

Nevertheless, my friend and I raised shots to His Fredness and injected some extra Barminess into the occasion. The amount of flesh on show rendered this somewhat obsolete - as one would expect from a poledancing extravaganza - but it felt rather fitting to be at an event where unbridled exhibitionism and hedonism was at the forefront. This summer has been a celebration of many things and Johnny Blue Eyes' philosophy has been articulated through our cricket this summer. The Ashes 2009 has been an expression of hope and change. Although, not always for the better…

The fifth test was a testing experience for any viewer - part-time and thoroughbred alike. The narrative of the test was true to the topsy-turvy nature of our battles with the Aussies all summer and it was only with Freddie's run-out of Punter on Sunday afternoon that we could confidently envision victory. (Even after Boyband's heroics, the pessimistic Phoenix feared an Aussie fightback). On Thursday, as the test match began, I felt a sense of sadness that the series was drawing a close and the spectre of emptiness loomed. I believed our batting performance on the first day was under-par - in fact, despite our victory I still do - and I feared that we had discarded all chance of victory with the ubiquitous batting collapse that befell us once again.

Having won a crucial toss and chosen to bat first, we were unable to steady our nerves with a strong opening stand as Cook fell cheaply once again. Brocko and The Sherminator then combined well and achieved a century partnership but our middle order crumbled once the pair were dismissed, for 55 and 72 respectively. An uncomfortable Colly was removed for just 24, Prior departed for 18 and Freddie was out for 7 in his penultimate test innings. Not for the first time this summer, it was left to our tail to wag us out of trouble. The Vicious One bowled Dr Comfort in the final over of the day just as our Marcel and Boyband were complimenting each other at the crease in ominous fashion. Eight wickets in total fell on the first day as we reached 307 for 8 at stumps.

The dust bowl of a pitch polarised debate on our first innings total. Shayne believed 350 would be a solid score on such a precarious wicket but I felt that the failure of our batsmen to once again go on and score a hundred was the death knell in our Ashes hopes. The Lost Boy's inability to reach a century was especially disappointing as he was dismissed by Sid straight after tea chopping onto his stumps. Only Bellbeforce could have been dismissed facing his first ball after a break in such innocuous circumstances. Belly may have top-scored but it was Vince's solid 41 that was the highlight of our innings. Trotsky's debut knock was a sign of glory to come...

Friday was labelled the decisive day of the summer. It was a largely unanimous opinion that we would only be able to judge the quality of our first innings in light of The Aussie's own display. With The Baggies only needing to draw the final test to retain the Ashes, a commanding first innings batting display could have taken the series away from us. The emphasis was upon us to secure a first innings lead, bowl our opponents out quickly and build a platform from which we could declare. We never imagined that we would make inroads into all three aims in a single day but Friday was an incredible, pulsating day of drama in which fifteen wickets fell.

The Test of Tests was ignited by a devastating display from the much maligned Stuart Broad. His glorious five for electrified a magical afternoon and destroyed the Aussies' hopes. His removal of Shane II, Punter, The Hussler and Pup in 21 balls was a spell-binding passage of cricket. Boyband took these four prized wickets for just eight runs outfoxing the opposition with savage swing bowling as The Oval erupted in wild disbelief. Australian implosions are all too rare and I could hardly contain myself. On the eve of the test, KP had called for an Englishman to decide the match on his own and the unlikely figure of Westloife had heeded Pietersen's call. The Blonde claimed his final scalp with a masterful delivery that removed Gilchrist II's off stump. The afternoon session was simply electric. Marcel, at the other end, was inspired and dismissed Snorks, MJ and The Kat with quality deliveries. The Baggies had been pulverised. From a position of some strength at 73-0, our opponents had been ripped apart and reduced to 133-8 . The urn was in reach at last.

A veil of delirium descended on the ground and its supporters. Such brilliance was almost entirely unexpected if not unprecedented. Our performance at Headingley had been so horrific that many of us had given up hope of winning the series. England's extreme Jekyll and Hyde nature was lovable at last. The evening session saw the demise of the remaining Aussie wickets as Dr Comfort claimed another scalp and Freddie got into the act. Our second innings then begun amid strange scenes of euphoria doused with tension. Would we collapse on the dust bowl in turn? Surely even England couldn't let slip a position of such ascendancy... Unsurprisingly, early wickets fell with The Chef, The Lost Boy and The Nurdler all departing before the close but crucially Lord Brocko remained at the crease and he nursed our rookie Vince through the final overs. We ended the day on 58-3 with a staggering lead of 230.

Saturday was a day of consolidation. The game had accelerated at such a pace that a consecutive three day test match was a prospect. Our over-night lead looked almost unassailable already. But we wanted to ensure that victory could be a procession not an agonising conquest. We hoped to set the Aussies an effectively impossible target for their second innings by batting for most of the day and only inserting them into bat in the evening session when we had a lead of 500 plus runs. Whether we would have a chance to declare was contingent on our flailing batsmen producing at last. Our Lord and his lieutenant Trotsky gave us the perfect platform with a masterful performance of controlled, assured cricket on the most curious of wickets. Vince secured his maiden Test fifty just before lunch. Our lead had raced onto 329. Both batsman looked on the brink of centuries but Brocko lost concentration on 75 and he returned to the hutch minutes before the break. Prior strolled to the crease and almost immediately drew Baggy blood. Literally. He hit Punter in the mouth and the Aussie captain responded by feigning painless indifference whilst spitting blood onto the turf. It was a glorious moment.

The rest of the day was eerily majestic. Vince trotted serenely to a masterful maiden hundred, ably assisted by buccaneering brilliance from the departing Flintstone, The Blonde reborn and the mischievous Marcel. When Vince was finally dismissed on 119, we declared on 373 for 9 with an imperious lead of 545. Everything had gone to plan. It was most unnerving. Something had to give. Sure enough, we were unable to capture an early wicket or two in the evening as the Aussie openers held firm. They ended the day on 80 for no loss. The target we had set for the Aussies was a world record run chase but a nagging doubt remained. The Baggies, the No 1 in the world, had broken plenty of records in the past. Of course, this auraless bunch were, and are, not on a par with their history-making predecessors and the urn was just ten wickets away but I was not getting over-confident. This England team had toyed with our emotions all summer. I anticipated greatness but tried to reign myself in. My tickets for the fifth day's play at The Oval on Monday also meant that I was in a quandary. In some ways, a quick victory on Sunday would have been welcome but I really wanted to be there in person to salute His Fredness and see us recapture Sport's smallest and finest trophy. And so, to Sunday. The 23rd of August 2009. The day that we regained the Ashes.

The Novice and I arrived in Regent's Park just as play began for the day. We were buoyed by the quick wickets that fell as Marcel delivered on the Bunsen Burner dismissing The Kat for 43 and the Blonde reprised his devastating spell removing Shane II LBW for 40. But the subsequent partnership between Punter and Mr Cricket was a trying one. Part of me was thrilled that it looked as if we were going to go into a fifth day but part of me was concerned that history was going to be made and not in the way we all wanted. The pair looked so well set and were racking up runs with such speed that an Aussie victory had begun to look like a possibility. I begun to realise that my desire to see a fifth day's play was probably dependent on the Baggies scenting victory and enduring a horribly frenetic finish. We hadn't witnessed a wicket for over four hours and the crowd in the park were restless. The Novice was displeased that our early promise had been replaced by impotence verging on inertia. Having joked that the series might be over by lunch, we had sat back and witnessed a stoic Aussie fightback. The urn was beginning to look out of reach once again.

But, cometh the hour, cometh the man. Superfred came to our rescue. Not for the first time this summer, of course. Freddie had been unusually quiet in his last test match but fielding in the graveyard of mid-on he came up with one last moment of magic running out Ricky for 66. The impenetrable partnership had been broken and momentum was with us once again. Fred stood hands outstretched as the pillar of Aussie hopes departed fuming. Flintoff had punctured the final bastion of Baggie resistance. Surely now, the urn was coming home. The Oval was alive with expectation as the Pup strode to the crease. The dust bowl pitch was a dastardly place to begin an innings and we sensed blood. Ponting's heir looked more than uncertain and Brocket appealed for a run out with Clarke on 0. The decision was a marginal one and we stood in the park praying that the third umpire would dismiss our nemesis for a duck so the party could begin in earnest. The crowd erupted as the Pup was forced to retreat for no score. Victory seemed inevitable. At last.

Once our Marcel, revelling in the Steinbeck inspired conditions, claimed the wicket of Snorks, we anticipated that the final five Aussie wickets would be a mere procession. The Dr had claimed the Baggie's last recognised batsman, save for the immovable Mr Cricket, before tea to leave the Aussies reeling at the break on 265-5. The wicket was another contentious moment as Prior removed the bails with North aiming for a huge sweep off our spin king and Bowden deemed the batsman out without recourse to the third umpire. The tide had inexorably swung our way. After the break, however, The Hussler and Gilchrist II put on a partnership of 91 to raise Aussie hopes. It looked like play might continue into Monday and I might be at The Oval to witness victory after all. But once our Swann removed Haddin just after Mr Cric reached his 100 victory was officially within reach. The Aussie tail was exposed and the atmosphere was one of gleeful expectation. GBH then entered the fray removing MJ for a duck and then both Sid and Clark in consecutive balls. Harmy missed out on his hat-trick and the stage was set for Marcel to seal victory. Our Dr fittingly claimed the last scalp as The Hussler departed at last for 121 as he was caught by The Chef at short leg. The final five wickets had fallen in a frenetic flurry for 21 runs in just 48 balls. The urn was back home.

It was pandemonium in the park. We remained standing to cheer our man of the match - Boyband (who else?) - and our man of the series - Our Lord (again, who else?) through the presentation ceremony and reserved the loudest cheer of all for our first sight of the urn in Brocket's hand. After the Aussies' dominance in the stats, a wave of incredulity swept over me. How had we won a series in which our opponents had smashed eight centuries to our two hundreds and possessed the crop of the leading wicket takers too? It seemed wonderfully unjust. A smash and grab effort at the last or a reward for mental might? Straussy himself was circumspect - "when we were bad, we were very bad but when we were good, we were good enough". In the end, we deserved to regain the urn because we delivered on the decisive days. Our resilience had enabled us to be victorious; at the crucial moments, we had conquered. All our fallibilities were forgotten in the cauldron of noise and the realisation of glory. It was as if our potential had been rewarded. A cricketing dynasty seems within reach for this able and largely inexperienced team. Parity with our 05 heroes had been attained in the end in some style. It was The End of a sumptuous summer but The Beginning of Bounty to come...

The 05 Ashes series was the beginning of the end of a glorious side. The bowling attack of Freddie, GBH, Hoggy, Jones and Gilo never played together again. The 09 Ashes winners have the chance to better their forbearers by building on their success over the Baggy Green and becoming the No 1 Test side in the world. We must see this victory as merely The End of The Beginning. The battle for the urn is the pinnacle of our cricket but we should play with the same intensity throughout the intervening months. The 05 heroes were blighted by injury and excess; inconsistency dogged their progress. With Flower and The Lord at the helm, sober progress this time should be more than attainable. Before our eyes drift to the next Ashes series which begins in November next year, we must focus on beating all our other foes. South Africa beckon this November. I can't wait to see how we perform. Let's hope we cast off the Ashes hangover in some style...

In the meantime, Test cricket is set aside as one day cricket takes centre stage. We are playing two Twenty20s and seven ODIs against the Aussies over the next few weeks. I will, of course, be watching but the anticlimax will be a tangible one. This summer has proven that the long form of the game and the Ashes, in particular, is the ultimate cricketing conflict.

Thank you to everyone who has shared cricketing capers with me this summer and read my musings with relish. My memories are multiple. This series has been a wonderful combination of the magnificent and the mundane. Being at Lord's with The Eternal Optimist to witness our historic victory was probably the highlight. But sharing our reclamation of the urn in the park with The Novice was equally exquisite. I will also never forget enjoying the excruciating ending in Cardiff on the sofa with The Bearded Lady or witnessing the third test petering out into a draw with The Singing Spinner in a near empty Walkabout. I often watched the midweek action toute seule pen in hand so thanks for all of the textual intercourse - The Freddied Flintstone’s efforts always cheered me up, even during Headingley's horrorshow.

As we look to the future, we should all allow ourselves a period of mourning to grieve the passing of such a splendid series. "There is nothing more exciting in sport" [Ian 'Beefy' Botham on The Ashes].

The Phoenix

5th Test Finale : We have won back the Ashes!

All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible.
- T.E. Lawrence @ The Oval

The urn is back home! We have won the Ashes!

I still can't quite believe I am typing this. I am in shock. There are no words to express the elation that I feel. After the first day of this test, I thought that the series was lost but a heroic bowling performance from Broad transformed our chances. It has been magical cricket. All summer, the pendulum of momentum has swung between the sides and we have been unable to relax and enjoy the moment. Now is the time to savour our triumph.

The explosion of colour - the explosion of hope as the Aussie wickets tumbled on Friday - opened up the possibility of victory in the series once again and Vince cemented our winning position yesterday. The horrors of Headingley are forgiven! The frustration of Edgbaston forgotten! The players produced on the ultimate stage.

The final test has defied language. With the end nigh, it has been hard to absorb everything. Today was a beautiful culmination of graft, toil and alchemy.

I will post my views once I have slept on the past four days and Freddied this evening.

Make sure you celebrate tonight. There have been few better days to be a England Cricket Fan.

5th Test - Day Two : Is this it?

It is great to be a blonde. With low expectations it's very easy to surprise people.
- Pamela Anderson

England - 1st innings : 332 & 2nd innings : 58-3 vs Australia - 1st innings : 160 (day two, stumps)

After a summer of shifts and turns, day two was a stunningly decisive exhibition of cricket. The new Blonde on the block - Stuart Broad - delivered a mesmeric spell to leave the Aussies reeling. I am still in shock. It really does seem that - whisper it - the urn is coming home!

England's green and pleasant land was bathed in sunshine yesterday afternoon as Boyband and our Dr Comfort ripped through the Aussie batting line-up.

Who knows what Day Three holds? Will The Test match be all over tonight? Surely not! We must bat out the day and triumph tomorrow. AOL and disbelief have muzzled me but I will align my thoughts anon and relay my revelations.

Yesterday was the most incredible day of cricket for some time. Forgive my silence... A Phoenix had to celebrate last night.

5th Test - Day One : Squeaky-bum time already...

Other nations use ''force''; we Britons alone use ''Might.''
- Evelyn Waugh, Scoop

England: 1st innings - 307-8 (day one, stumps)

The Phoenix has been at the mercy of AOL and unable to blather freely over the past few days. Apologies for the hiatus. My tweetings were abruptly halted yesterday just as the afternoon session begun and then I was unable to write last night as the breakdown of my AOL server echoed yet another England collapse.

After a single day's play, we are on the precipice. If our tail wags and we achieve a score of 350 odd this morning that will give us some hope but that will still not be a par score on this wicket. We cannot use the pitch as an excuse for our inability to post a first innings score in excess of 400. Our batsman failed once again to deliver "big runs". We have scored a single century this series in comparison to the Baggies' seven. It is now down to the bowlers to wrestle back that wee urn.

Freddie. The Time is Now.

So, in haste, come follow the day's play with me and watch the battle resume. If you dare...

5th Test : The Countdown

I dream, therefore I exist.
- August Strindberg

I am only just beginning to overcome the shock of Headingley's horrors. As my tweetings indicate, the journey has not been as easy one. The dismal display over the weekend was an affair no-one should have to endure.

But, this week is a time for action - we must set the SOS mission into life. All talk has now turned to wholesale changes, especially in light of the failures of The Puppy, The Lost Boy and The Chef this afternoon. With no further ado, here is my XI for the Test of Tests -

Strauss
Trescothick
Key
Ramprakash
Collingwood
Prior
Flintoff
GBH
Anderson
Swann
Rashid
12th man: Broad

Let me know your thoughts. I believe radical introductions in the batting line-up are a must. The inclusion of Rashid is obviously contingent on the wicket. This test is a one-off so let's dispense with caution in selection. The Urn is as stake so we can afford to look at this test in isolation.

Next Thursday cannot come soon enough. I am already alive with tension.

Here is some light relief to stave off the nerves - The Eternal Optimist has discovered The Sherminator's calling. There's no surprise that a white flag is involved...

I am off to hunt for moose now. Please allow yourself to drift off to the last day at The Oval in my silence - imagine us carousing in victory as the Aussies slump to the turf. Fantasy is the ultimate doctor of comfort.

The Phoenix

4th Test - Day Three : Hope fades as Australia seize victory and momentum in the quest for the urn

Time past and time future
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
- T. S. Eliot

Australia 445 beat England 102 & 263 by an innings & 80 runs

I am still recovering from the shock of that shambolic performance. It's a One Test Series now. Yesterday's defeat means that we now need to be victorious at The Oval to win The Ashes. The urn hasn't looked more elusive all summer. Our display at Headingley was horrifying; the batsman and the bowlers united in eptitude and belief notable only in its absence. But the news that Freddie is set to play in the fifth test has at least given us a fillip after the disastrous third test. I don't want to dwell too much on what happened. Our diabolical first morning rendered the rest of the test redundant. We were brutally beaten in the opening two hours on Friday. Our tail delayed the inevitable admirably but still couldn't hide our incompetence...

MORNING SESSION : TAIL WAGS TO GIVE US SOME CHEER AT LAST

We started the day expecting play to be over by lunch. Jimbo was duly dismissed by The Hilfenmeister with the third ball of the day to bring Boyband to the crease alongside The Teeth. Prior had been dropped by Snorks the previous day and I expected this reprieve to be short-lived. However, we managed to reach 100 runs and after half an hour succeeded in avoideing suffering the heaviest defeat in our history. In 1973 we lost by an innings and 226 runs to the Windies at Lord's. It's important to remember that as dire as we played in this test, things have been even worse. Who would choose to be an England cricket fan eh?! Our wicketkeeper fell for 22 off 29 to leave us rocking on 120-7 but his attacking stroke play had set the tone for a thoroughly entertaining morning. Westlife and his new partner Marcel batted in swashbuckling ODI fashion and peppered the boundary with glorious ease. The Blonde smashed four 4s off Clark in a single over to reek revenge in their personal duel and Broad raced to a half century in just fourty-two balls. The pair were toying with a frustrated Aussie bowling attack and remarkably celebrated an hundred partnership off just seventy three deliveries. Unfortunately, Stuart was removed by Sid for 61 just before lunch to end any hope of us avoiding an innings defeat. It was a relief to see England rediscover some swagger and fight but it was too little too late. Dr Comfort recorded his own bristling half century just before lunch and we reached the break 245-8 and trailing by 163 runs. Our run-rate of 6.79 and our exquisite stroke play made me question our batsman even more. How had they all failed to produce on such a benign surface? "We should reverse the batting line up and move the bowlers up the order," mused Beefy. He was only half joking.

AFTERNOON SESSION : AUSSIES CLINCH THE MOST RESOUNDING OF VICTORIES

The afternoon session was not a long one. Swann soon departed for a test best score of 62 as MJ continued his reinvention with his fourth wicket of the innings and then Onions was dismissed for a duck as Emo cemented his return to form with figures of 5-69 and a place on the honours board. We were 263 all out. The misery was over at last. At the obscene hour of 14.04 on the third day of the test, The Aussies had won by an innings and 80 runs. Our exhibition of incompetence was silenced. We had been outplayed, out-thought and out-fought.

The series is now all square at 1-1. Our grasp on the urn has slipped away.

Infuriating Quote of the Day 1: Brocko - "We didn't turn up". Utterly unacceptable explanation. How can a team not turn up for the biggest test match of their lives? We could have regained the urn at Headingley. It was cowardice for Strauss to hide behind a cliché. His words were empty. We, the Barmies, deserve better.

Infuriating Quote of the Day 2: Punter - "Everything is heading in our direction". Can someone please silence this man? Smuggery incarnate.

Ornithological Count: The birds were in absentia. Lucky for some.

Barminess Barometer: 50% - the crowd were as colourful as one could expect on such day. Losing a test inside three days is diabolical and even the Barmies couldn't totally conceal their contempt. Nevertheless some of the fans sparkled amidst the gloom; 5 clowns, 3 crusaders and 3 glorious dudes in drag, in particular, were a source of solace.

We need an oval-shaped miracle. The pendulum of victory is swinging inexorably away from us but with Fred in the team there is always a chance...

4th Test - Day Two : All over bar the grumbling - Aussies all but square the series

I like a look of agony,
Because I know it’s true;
- Emily Dickinson

England: 1st innings 102 & 2nd innings - 82-5 ; Australia: 1st innings 445

Avert your eyes! If you found the activity that passed for cricket on Friday atrocious then please don't read on. Spare yourself. Today's play was toxicity itself. Reliving it now is making me shake with rage. If you thought our performance couldn't get any worse, then you were very much mistaken...

MORNING SESSION : DISGRACE CONTINUES APACE

Only a single wicket fell in the morning session. The Bearded Lady and I observed the scene in disgust. I am beginning to run out of negative adjectives to describe our perilous play. I am a proud pessimist but even I am flummoxed by our sheer, unadulterated shoddiness. It was torture once again. By the time Shakespeare denied Pup a richly deserved century twelve minutes before lunch, the Aussies had raced to 303-5. Our bowling had been universally appalling - wide and short yet again - and horribly expensive. Clarke and North re-enacted their mastery of Monday with ease. Their glorious reprisal was largely unthreatened. Strauss was forced to chuck the ball to Marcel just before noon because our seamers were so toothless. The Aussies peppered the boundary passing milestone upon milestone effortlessly. They moved from a 50 partnership to an 100 partnership via the vice skip's half century and Snorks picked up his own 50 just before the pair passed an 150 run stand. When Onions trapped Pup LBW for 93 it only served to demonstrate the naiveté of Brocket's captaincy. The Lord's decision to ignore The Bard first up was mystifying. North and his new partner Gilchrist II reached lunch with their wickets intact. Oz were 306-5 and in almost lazy, resplendent control. We were on the road to nowhere.

AFTERNOON SESSION : AUSSIES MAUL AND MOCK OUR FALLEN TROOPS

I returned to the television with reluctance. I feared the Aussie onslaught would roll on and on and on. The new ball was due in three overs but I was not overly invigorated by its imminence. Our bowlers had been so tame and so sluggish and so disengaged, I couldn't envision how they could reconfigure themselves to prosper with the new ball. But GBH capitalised on the opportunity and removed Haddin for just six. I allowed myself to dream once again. Oz were 323-6 and knocking them over for 350 was within reach. The containment plan was alive. Reducing the Baggies to a lead of 248 runs was a very real possibility. Or so we foolishly hoped. Snorks and MJ combined for an exhilarating partnership of 51 runs off just 78 balls and beyond. The Blonde finally dismissed Emo for 27 with Oz into a lead of 291 at 393-7. The Loife struck again next ball removing Sid for a duck but the Oz tail wasn't silenced yet. No. 10 batsman Mr Reliable combined with North to see the Aussie lead across the 300 mark. Marcus reached his third test century with a flourish - a six off Dr Discomfort - and Clark batted furiously at the other end flashing sixes of his own. The batsmen were toying with our bowlers. One Reliable six ended up in the media toilets. I will not descend to expletive ridden bile. I will leave you to work out the pathetic fallacy... "This is embarrassing," fumed Beef. One over off Broad went for sixteen but he came back to dismiss both Clark and The Hilfenmesiter to reach career best figures of 6-91 and end the Aussie innings at last. Boyband's largely undeserved maiden Ashes five for was the only spark in the darkness. Oz were 445 all out with a lead of 338. An innings defeat was a grim procession in the making.

EVENING SESSION : HORROR SHOW

I almost can't bring myself to write about what happened. To describe our demise is to accept it's reality. I am still bristling with denial. But I will persevere. I am aware that the waking nightmare will not diminish until I lose consciousness - "To sleep: perchance to dream"... Let my invective unfurl and hasten sleep. With excruciating inevitability, we collapsed once Brocket was bowled by Benjamina LBW for 32. The Chef and Cook had racked up another opening stand of fifty odd but that solidity was undermined by the catastrophe that followed. We lost five wickets in the final hour of the day. Bopara followed Strauss back to the hutch the very next ball. Ravinder's golden duck was no surprise but it was a horrifying moment. The fall of two wickets was a portent of culls to come - a cluster of chaos was about to ensue. Sure enough, The Lost Boy was a victim to the reappearance of MJ's mojo and departed for just 3. A reborn Emo then removed both The Nurdler and The Chef for 4 and 30 runs respectively. Night-watchman Anderson had failed to do his job and exposed Cooky to the strike to dire circumstances. It was farcical. We had lost all logic. Chaos reigned as we almost lost a sixth wicket in the final over but Snorks dropped a catch in the slips. It was a mercy drop. We reached stumps a hideous 82-5 trailing by 261 runs. We are on the verge of one of the most humiliating innings defeats in our history.

"There are no positives" proclaimed Boycott.

Quote of the Day : The reliably phlegmatic Singing Spinner gets tough and warns captain Brock - "Unmitigated disaster is not a phrase I use regularly...". Brocket! Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Ornithological Count: 4 Toucan birds observed proceedings unfazed. Marvellous.

Barminess Barometer: 99% - it was fancy dress Saturday at Headingley and the Barmy Army, unlike our players, produced in some style. The unspoken theme was drag divas through the ages. Cricket fans are very confident in their masculinity and embrace their feminine side absolutely. Highlights included 4 Egyptian sphinxes, 1 Swiss cow girl, 5 nuns, 1 bikini clad beauty with a bear sized wig (Her/his humongous hair obscured the view of the members of the crowd behind him. They were in luck!), several beauteous Susan Boyles, countless old Noras and Marilyn Monroe. The wig sellers of Leeds must be dancing. Recession? What recession?! It actually became difficult to differentiate between the drag show and the female members of the crowd. Shocking pink lipstick was everywhere...

3 cows were also in the crowd alongside the ubiquitous Scooby, Kanga and Roo, Nasser's twin, a fearsome gorilla, two clowns, 5 Marcel Marceau lookalikes, Banana Man and 1 dead ringer for Bumble with an even larger hooter. Scintillating stuff.

I hope tomorrow morning is short and sour. I can't cope with much more of this.