3rd Test : Day Two - Jekyll and Hyde England in the ascendancy

Human beings are the only animals of which I am thoroughly and cravenly afraid.
- George Bernard Shaw

Australia: 1st innings - 263; England: 1st innings - 116-2 (day two, stumps)

What a morning! After switching on the television with some trepidation, Onions and Anderson produced incredible individual performances to leave the Australians reeling. There was no need to question the players' attitude today. It was as if the test match began at the start of the day and yesterday had never happened. Some people say that debauched, drunken nights - nights when you black out - do not exist on waking because the memories are dead and England played like they had erased their memories this morning. Without the hangover, of course. I didn't even read the newspaper reports prior to the first ball because I didn't want to feed my apprehension but my concern was gloriously misplaced...

MORNING SESSION: SEVENTH HEAVEN

Shakespeare was a surprise choice to open the bowling. His three overs yesterday had gone for 21 runs and the wisdom of Brocket's decision to deviate from his trusted opening bowlers of Fred and Jimbo was immediately called into question by SS1's very own opening duo, Messrs Hussain and Atherton. Minutes later the commentators were silenced and I was whooping in my living room and punching the air as The Bard claimed two wickets with the first two balls of the day. He was on a hat-trick! On a hat-trick in the day's opening over! He trapped Watson LBW for 62 with utter disregard for the batsman's prowess the previous day and then bowled the Hussler for a golden duck when Cricket Tragic chose to leave a straight ball. We were a team reborn. The players descended upon The Medieval Face with unrestrained glee. The crowd was jubilant and roared Onions through his run-up as he faced Punter. The Aussie skipper was surprised by the bouncer that came his way but survived unscathed. Shakespeare may have missed out on the glory of a hat-trick but he completed his double wicket maiden in menacing fashion. We sensed blood. Our endurance of yesterday was rewarded in a single over. The members of the crowd who were yet to take their seats had missed high drama. Even the ever reserved Athers conceded that it had been a "remarkable" first over. The test match had swung our way for the first time.

It is an understatement to say that conditions were bowler friendly. They were optimum and capitalising on the assistance of cloud cover as quickly as possible was paramount. The Aussie batsman who begun the second over of the day would never have imagined doing so but the captain and vice-captain looked capable of riding out the maelstrom. Ponting became Oz' leading scorer in test cricket after nineteen minutes and I feared that he would celebrate his feat in style with a century. Punter was scoring freely and Brocket's field-placings were becoming increasingly frazzled and increasingly negative. The Bard then led us into dreamland - "we are such stuff as dreams are made on..." - tempting Ricky with a bouncer that he could only tickle behind to Prior. The Aussie we all love to hate the most, their skipper and their prize wicket was removed. His team were 163-4 and rocking.

With Freddie off key and Shakespeare in need of a partner crime, Strauss called upon a new hatchetman. The baby- faced assassin aka Jimbo The Leader of our Attack was introduced just before noon and he soon came to the fore. The ball was swinging and his first over - a maiden - was an ominous one. Our opponents were still going along well at almost 3.5 runs an over but wickets were in the offing. North took 23 minutes and 15 balls to get off the mark and the usually composed Clarke was uncomfortable at the other end too. It was not a morning to be a batsman. Onions and Anderson in tandem were rampant. The Medieval Face was relentless and twice almost ensnared the Pup. First, he had a big LBW appeal denied and then Fred dropped a chance in the slips. Jimmy allowed the Flintstone to laugh off a rare faux pas by deceiving Clarke with an inswinger twenty minutes before lunch. The vice-skip had added just ten more runs to his total. Debutant Manou strutted to the crease and got off the mark quickly but, with the Aussies in some turmoil, surviving through until lunch looked an achievement in itself. His partner at the other end, North, remained uneasy and with the ball swinging at will Marcus was removed by Anderson for just 12 with Prior taking a magnificent diving catch. The much mocked MJ then entered the action and, almost inevitably, was out LBW to Jimbo's first ball. It was absolutely plumb. Jimmy was now on a hat-trick too. It was sensational stuff. The hat-trick proved elusive but JA struck again a minute before lunch to remove their unheralded wicket-keeper. Anderson had claimed 4 scalps for 4 runs in thirteen deliveries. The Aussies had been annihilated and trudged off to lunch on 203-8. The session had seen 77 runs and 7 wickets. It was almost too much to take in. I was in shock. The test match had been turned on its head. And in some style.

AFTERNOON SESSION : ENGLAND PEGGED BACK

The afternoon's play was a little stale. It was always going to be hard to follow a session like this morning's magic and it was no huge surprise to see us regress. Given our staid post-lunch performances this series, I would query our choice of cuisine. And the ingredients of our tea... After the Bard and Jimmy show, we toiled for over an hour in the attempt to take the final two Aussie wickets. Broad was ineffectual and expensive (surprise, surprise...) and Fred failed to produce. The partners in crime had to return in order for the tail to be culled. Anderson struck first, removing The Vicious One at 14.10 with yet another devastating inswinger to claim his maiden Ashes five-for, and then Onions finished the job tempting the Hilfenmeister into slicing to Dr Comfort at gully. The Aussies were all out for 263. We could have scittled them out for 240 but our own Puppy had dropped a dolly off Onions and given Benjamina a reprieve. The number 11 went on to claim his highest test score. His runs could ultimately prove crucial in the outcome of the test. We must cut out sloppiness in the field. Ravinder has been casual in the field and at the crease all series (see below). He is on the brink of a return to the county scene.

Our innings begun with seventy minutes of play before tea and riding out the conditions was all important. The first over from the Aussies' new batting hero Hilfenhaus was a tame one but Sid removed our Chef for a duck in the next over. We were 2-1 and the nerves returned with a vengeance. The out of form Bopara arrived at the crease and KP's absence seemed to loom over us. The knowledge that Ian Ronald Bell could emerge at any minute was not a calming one. Our Lord, however, was playing masterfully and he guided Ravi through until the break. We were 56-1 and the loss of Cook had been neutered by some clever stroke play from both batsman. Our progress had been checked but we remained on top.

EVENING SESSION : STRAUSS LEADS THE WAY INTO THE PROMISED LAND

A English wicket after a break is like a nap after lunch. In other words, inevitable. (In civilised countries anyway*). Bopara was duly removed by Hilfenhaus for 23. Conditions had eased and it was a suicidal dismissal. He half played the shot and half blocked. A half-shot in test cricket will rarely go unpunished. Having played with much greater control than he had displayed at Lord's, it was a horribly disappointing end to Ravi's innings. His performance in the second innings here at Edgbaston should determine his fate as a Number 3 at international level. Belly bounded to the crease with boyish enthusiasm. It was great to see him back. I have missed his self-effacing charm. He started nervously and his running between the wickets was harrowing to watch but once he settled he looked more imposing than he ever had done in an England shirt. The six he hit down the ground off the Haur was sublime. It sailed straight back over the bowler's head with Pietersen esq panache. Incredibly - or unsurprisingly given our form in the shorter forms of the game - it was out first six of the series. Even Warne who the coined Bell's now infamous Sherminator moniker was impressed. Brocket was continuing to play aggressively at the other end and reached his 50 with aplomb.

The pair secured a 50 partnership off 89 balls and were well set until a rejuvenated Johnson emerged. It seemed to almost everyone in the ground that MJ had trapped Bellbeforce LBW with a delicious inswinger but umpire Rudi aka Barmy Army Impostor Extraordinaire gave Ian a reprieve. I was thrilled. I must confess that I relish in sporting injustices. If anyone deserves a second chance, it's Sherm. Plus I want to keep reading about Mitchell Johnson's mother and if MJ rediscovers his mojo she will no longer be rent a quote. Shortly after Rudi's ricket, bad light stopped play. We were offered the light and accepted it without question. We had ended the day with our wickets intact on 116-2 with Brocket sniffing another hundred on 64 not out and Bell still standing on 36 not out. We are 147 behind and a first innings lead beckons. Or it should do if the rain holds off. But today proves that, once again, England are reliable in their unreliability. Expect the unexpected tomorrow.

Quote of the Day 1: The Freddied Flintstone on not watching today's play - "On way to Somerset to look at wedding venues". Our favourite bachelor is behaving at last...

Quote of the Day 2: Profundity itself aka Mr Gower - "There is no fire without smoke".

Ornithological Count: Nada. Again. Even our Marcel was largely ignored. It may be time to cut our losses. Suggestions, please. All alternatives welcome.

Barminess Barometer: 40% - Graham Taylor was in the house. Do I not like that. The countless Just Williams, Beefy alikes, Moroccan hatted fellas, red indians, builders and err Frank Skinner himself eased the pain somewhat. It's Fancy Dress Saturday tomorrow - may the games begin...

*For some reason, my campaign to introduce siestas in England is yet to come to fruition. Do let me know if you want to contribute to the cause. Cash donations are accepted.

3rd Test : Day One - Sitting, Waiting, Cursing

How much of human life is lost in waiting.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Australia: 1st innings - 126-1 (day one, stumps)

Today was a bathetic occasion. The first day of a test match is meant to be a tremulous one. It usually gives birth to many of the nuances of the narrative that pan out over the course of five days but we only observed thirty overs. Play wasn't blighted by the weather. It was massacred. The cricket I experienced this afternoon when play finally got under way at 17.00 was bathed in a different hue. The atmosphere was a curious one. It certainly seemed like we were playing "just another test team" from the way we fielded - they players were quiet, pedestrian and enervated. It didn't look like we were competing to regain The Ashes...

As soon as I woke up this morning in a somewhat fuzzy state, things didn't feel quite right. Having bit adieu to Soho for a few days, I was eager to immerse myself in my cricketing cocoon once again but the thrilling news that Hughes had been cast aside was undermined by mutterings about the elements. It was infuriating. It wasn't raining in Birmingham when I switched on Sky Sports News this morning. In fact, it didn't rain at Edgbaston today at all. But, the torrential rain earlier in the week had waterlogged the ground and rendered the outfield unplayable. Apparently the bowlers run-ups would also have been disrupted. There was pitch inspection after pitch inspection throughout the day. The intervals gave me windows in which to get dressed, have a ciggie, go for a walk to buy provisions and so on but I was still thoroughly unamused. I hadn't anticipated being unleashed. Every time I returned home in anticipation of play beginning. Every time I returned and switched on the TV just in time to see Rudi and Nass out on the field with grave expressions. I didn't need to listen to their apologias. Deconstructing the ins and outs of the situation was a painful, thankless process.

I may have claimed to have learned patience through watching cricket but you can't be virtuous every day. I consoled myself with Eastenders and Peep Show and One Tree Hill and tried to stay calm. As the afternoon progressed and pitch inspections occurred with greater regularity, I was chained to my TV. Episodes were my only solace as I had to keep flicking back to Sky Sports One at intervals of half an hour. Or so it seemed. Hours may have passed. They must have done. But I was fidgety. The players took an early lunch but that was a false hope. The inspection post lunch at 14.00 also yielded nothing. I had pretty much given up on any cricket whatsoever being played today when whispers started that the test would begin at last at 17.00. I decided against watching the toss - it was an exciting moment in Enders and I was convinced if I flicked back to SS1 once more time I would jinx the prospect of any action. It was with some disbelief that I watched the players emerge on cue at five to open proceedings.

EVENING SESSION : ADVANTAGE OZ AS BOWLERS FLOUNDER

Punter won the toss and chose to bat. Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, he didn't elect to echo his infamous decision at Edgbaston in 05 and give us the chance to accrue a large first innings total. Nevertheless, we were hopeful of gaining an early wicket with a maiden opening pair at the crease. Watson was a walking wicket; as Athers said, "he's a natural Number 6". As Jimmy opened the bowling the news came through that Gilchrist II had injured is hand in the warm-up after the Baggy Green had submitted their team sheet. By law, they couldn't replace him but the England management team decided that we would allow them to call upon Graham Manou, the wicket keeper in reserve. A sporting gesture which we may live to rue. Why enforce rules which will always be broken in practice? Then again, all laws are there to be flouted...

The allotted thirty overs passed without great incident. The waiting was over but the England we had waited for didn't turn up. The team of Lord's was replaced with an insipid, sluggish model. All the seamers failed to make inroads and the partnership of Kat and Watson quickly became the Aussies' best opening stand of the summer. They were scoring at an alarming rate of over four an over almost from the off. With Fred bowling too short and Jimbo too wide, we looked to Boyband and Shakespeare to deliver but they were toothless. A few limp, half-hearted appeals ensued before Brocko introduced our Marcel into the attack. With Oz on the verge of racking up 100 runs so early in the match, Dr Comfort made the breakthrough trapping the Kat LBW for 46 off just 48 balls. There was over half an hour of the session remaining to claim another wicket and get back on top. Punter, however, was a man on a mission. His introduction didn't slow the run rate and he reached 20,000 first class runs within minutes of coming to the crease. The under pressure Watson at the other end was in the zone playing a classic one day innings. Shane reached his 50 off 89 in a nonchalant manner. The prematch talk has certainly not affected him. The pair peppered the boundary until close reaching 126-1 from just 30 overs. It had been a lifeless, forgettable few hours of play from England apart from Swann's moment of class. Was that worth waiting for? Absolutely.

Quote of the Day: Rev Simpkins : on Satan - "Here was a man in cricket whites / Who tempted Jesus for 40 long nights / A bat at his side, sipping at tea / He raised a finger and he beckoned to me" [Lucifer Rag]

Ornithological Count: The biggest birdcall of the series. Prodigy take a bow. He tweeted the news of his fall from favour and became the first cricketer to do so. My ears were pricked. But, it proved to be a false dawn. The mid morning fire alarm silenced our feathered friends for the rest of the day. The siren had been loud enough for Messrs Gower, Hussain & Atherton to bolt from their seats and forced SS1 into an impromptu ad break so you can hardly blame the winged creatures for scarpering...

Barminess Barometer: To infinity and beyond. The vast majority of the 21,000 strong Brummie crowd stayed in the ground until play began. They sat watching an empty field for six hours. Six hours. They provided more entertainment than Team England (sic) ever could. They waited in splendour - most dressed as superheroes, Flintstones and the like and all supping beer and singing . Respec'!

All I want tomorrow is a full day's cricket. That isn't too much to ask for ... is it?

3rd Test : Breaking News : Prodigy Hughes dropped as talk turns supernatural

It takes a long time to become young
- Pablo Picasso

The news that the Aussies have mercilessly dismissed The Prodigy from their ranks this morning is an exciting portent. Our opponents are clearly in some discomfort. The move cannot simply be seen as the ruthless but correct decision and glossed over because they have no obvious direct replacement in their squad. The Baggy Green showed their confidence in their batting line-up before the series by electing to select only perma injured all-rounder Shane Watson as cover. Shane may open the batting with some aplomb in one day cricket but his record as an opener in the longer form of the game is a shoddy one. This leaves Punter with a selection puzzle - take a punt on Watson or move another batsman, most likely Hussey, up the order to open alongside The Kat? By choosing to disrupt their batting order, they have conceded that they need to strengthen and negated the advantage they had over us. KP's injury has forced us to alter our own batting line-up but that was an enforced change. Both teams now begin this test match with new personnel and some anxiety. But with Freddie passing his fitness test, we have the upper hand.

Our Lord has sought to maintain momentum from our victory at Lord's by claiming that Australia have lost their aura pre-match. Brocko has said that the absence of the greats like Warne, McGrath and Gilchrist has made him feel that this series has been like "playing against just any other test team" which is tantamount to cricketing blasphemy. Ponting has retorted that our captain didn't say that after Cardiff. After the Aussie Cricket Board asked their players to refrain from sledging in this series, the shackles are off. The intensity of this series has just been upped a degree or two. Both captains acknowledge that the result at Edgbaston will be decisive and are eager to deliver psychological punches. Punter reminded us that we are fifth in the world in the test rankings and claimed that consequently we have no aura ourselves. The animosity between the skippers has become tangible.

Brocko has emerged victorious from the build up bout. It seems ridiculous that a single word has dominated the pre-match warfare but an aura - the air of infallibility that all sportsman crave - was once synonymous with Australia and its loss is a damning indictment of their latest team. In this post Warne era, the Baggy Green have been slow to acknowledge their decline. Ponting has attempted to mask their visible fall from greatness by refraining from talking about the absences in his side. Strauss has forced him to confront the truth. Ponting's response was a futile one. England have no aura to lose. There is no absence to mourn. Even in 05 we were the underdogs. We are the nation that created cricket and then looked on as our pupils reigned supreme, giving us lesson after lesson in the art of the game. The beauty of this plight is that we are never burdened by expectation and can play with freedom. In every Ashes series, we start as the outsiders. We may be in one nil up in the series now but many people still watch in disbelief each time we succeed.

The teams are now gridlocked in the lightness and weight debate. Is it better to be weighed down by the search for an aura or to float unshackled? Do Australia have the advantage because of the weight of their history or are we the beneficiaries of the absence of hope? This notion extends beyond sport of course. Many of us spend our lives grappling with lightness and weight - is it better to have too much responsibility or too little? Is it better to have too much time on your hands or not enough? Is it better to love too much or protect your heart? This conundrum is one that cannot be answered but it is most certainly going to be a useful distraction in the rain breaks that look imminent.

I hope that the rain stays away. Mind games are wonderful but after a ten day break I just can't wait for this test match to begin. The question marks over both sides will guarantee a fractious start. Come on England!

3rd Test : The Countdown: For Whom The Bell Tolls

I never was hard or self-sufficient enough. Soft people, soft people have got to court the favour of hard ones.
- Tennessee Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire

Second chances are a rarity in international sport. Failure is seldom rewarded with anything other than a permanent farewell. But, there are some men and women that confound that fate. It may be an injury or a suspension that enables them to return. In other words, by default. But, whether through coincidence or providence, these athletes are blessed with a new start, a new chapter, a second act in their careers. Fitzgerald was wrong when he said “there are no second acts in [human] lives”. The Third Test sees the much maligned Ian Bell begin anew. The stage is set for The Sherminator to reintroduce himself to the cricketing world.

Bell has suffered from enduring the career path of the prodigy. Ever since he was a teenager, the batsman was earmarked as a Future England Captain and he is yet to shake that albatross from his shoulders. He is an unassuming young man and such expectations have acted as a crippling burden. He burst into the national side against the West Indies in 2004 and started the 05 Ashes with a ridiculous average of 297 having excelled against the might of Bangladesh. However, Belly averaged only 17.10 against the Aussies in 05 and, despite producing in the interim series against Pakistan, also suffered in our Whitewash in 06/07. He recovered to become one of the Wisden Cricketers of the Year in 2008 but the Warwickshire batsman has been unable to shack off the nearly man moniker. He is seen as a bloke who is unable to convert fifties into hundreds and his much lamented lack of mental fortitude was epitomised by his dismissal on 199 against South Africa at Lord's last summer. It was no surprise that it was The Sherminator who was the scapegoat after our capitulation in Jamaica in February. His removal was labelled the catalyst for our 51 all out collapse and he was dismissed from the test side.

It is the gulf between Bell’s talent and application that is most galling for England fans, the management and, most of all, the man himself. His test average is a respectable 40.59 but he has long been acknowledged as the most naturally talented batsman in the team. Yes, including Pietersen. Bell should be delivering 100s consistently and averaging much nearer 50 but he has never fulfilled his promise. This frustration has led to character assassination upon character assassination. The Sherminator has been chided for his lack of passion, his vacant eyes, his boyishness, his lack of stature at the crease etc. When he was dropped earlier this year, the selectors called for him to show more "hunger". Ian has duly spoken of his "hunger" at any and every opportunity. I have found this whole process a futile one. There is no use throwing Sherm a script and anticipating a transformation. People essentially do not change. We can be divided into “the hard” and “the soft”. Some characters, like Bell, will always be "soft" regardless of whatever lengths they go to reconfigure themselves. He will always be a "soft" man devoid of a protective "hard" shell and will never be able to manifest his passion like a KP. This does not mean that Belly doesn't care.

"Soft" characters have to be indulged in some ways. They need attention, to feel loved, yet without imposition, without pressure. In other words, unconditional affection. Michael Vaughan actually once saw this need in Pietersen at the beginning of his career. KP and Bell are not entirely dissimilar. The problem for The Sherminator isn't that he hasn't developed a hard shield like Kevin but that he hasn't accepted his fate. Ian is railing against nature. He is too simple a character to conceal his softness. When he was shown boxing on the beach in Windies on Sky Sports News in Spring it was a tragicomic scene. Bell the Boxer is an incredulous image. He would do better to align with the "hard" men and embrace his need for protection. As we have seen throughout this series, partnerships of opposites work well. Cricket remains a team sport and individuals can prosper in favourable environments. Belly and KP have always worked well together because, on the outside at least, they are poles apart. Now we await to see if Kevin's bessie mate Bopara can protect Bell and the pair can compliment each other and lead the team to glory.

The Second Act of The Sherminator will be an intriguing one. Ian has become a contentious figure and there is fury in some quarters that he has been given this chance at all. Many are wary of using him as a direct replacement for KP and batting him at no. 4 because Bell's batting average increases exponentially the lower down the order he bats. Some have called for Colly to be promoted to no. 4 with Bellbeforce at no.5. But, Our Lord has made the correct decision by showing his faith in Sherm and electing to play him at No. 4. If Bell realises this confidence and believes in himself, we have nothing to worry about. In total, Ian averages 25 in 10 tests against the Baggy Green. Things can only get better.

In response to my reader who claimed that "we're still gonna lose the Ashes", I'd like to ask them to elaborate on their pessimism. We didn't "get lucky" at Lord's. We outplayed the Aussies across the five days with sterling performances from several members of the team not just His Fredness. You claim that "our victory don't mean shit". Would you rather be one nil down in the series and in disarray? The Australian bowling attack, with the exception of da Hilfenmesiter, looks limp and lifeless. The curious case of Mitchell Johnson is farcical. MJ's mum is being blamed for his loss of form and leaving Oz' ownership of the urn in jeopardy. Only Down Under... We may have lost KP but their batting line-up outside Punter and Pup is far from intimidating. Hughes is a walking wicket, The Kat is no superstar and North is ordinary.

The series, like Bell, is at a cross-roads now. This is the most important test of The Ashes. Let's get behind the team.

2nd Test : The Fall Out - Time for Heroes

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
- Elizabeth Bishop, One Art

The veil of victory is a blessed one. It is a carapace shielding us from all other news; a vacuum from the minutiae of everyday life. But it is a fragile one. And, with the announcement that Kevin Pietersen is going to miss the rest of The Ashes series, our blissful bubble has been punctured once again. Our greatest player may have been lacklustre at Lord's but I had hoped that ten days' rest would have enabled him to recover form and fitness for the third test at Edgbaston. His performance at HQ was clearly blighted by his injury but the question remains - is a half fit KP better than our alternative batsmen?

Kevin is indisputably our best player. He is the only current English international with an average hovering on the 50 mark and he is the totem of our batting line-up. He has played 54 consecutive test matches since his debut. It is a remarkable run and indicative of his unique talent and almost instant integral status in the team. But this has been an annus horribilis for Kevin. The loss of the captaincy in January was followed by the first murmurs of discomfort in his ankle in the Caribbean and he has suffered his first loss of form since coming into the team. His average has not fallen significantly but his air of infallibility has evaporated.

The KP that has played in this Ashes series has looked a troubled one - a shadow of the bleached blingtastic boy of four years ago. His performance and demeanour at The Home of Cricket mean that he should have never have been selected for the second test. His batting was hampered as his mind had gone; the freedom that characterises his innings absent and replaced by panic. The injections may have satiated the pain somewhat but they had been unable to silence a new unfamiliar animal, Doubt. He was unable to run between the wickets properly and so he was incapable off getting of strike and rotating the pressure. This led directly to his dismissal in the second innings. In corollary, he was a futile presence in the field as the pain in ankle rendered running a huge effort and he constantly went off the field for treatment. With Freddie leaving the pitch for medical attention too, we saw an unprecedented number of twelfth men. It was a farce.

Some have sought to point fingers in anger. Most blame the ECB for Pietersen's injury. They believe their insistence that the ankle could be managed was a foolish one. However, I believe that their are several culpable characters in Kevin's demise : the man himself, his old nemesis Peter Moores and the ECB. I believe that The Achilles trouble stems from the stress of the events in January that threatened the reputations of all involved and led to KP's "resigning" from the captaincy and Moores being sacked as coach. Pietersen joined the team in The Caribbean straight after the debacle when it might have been sensible for him to take a break and take stock. He has admitted that the punishing running schedule he set himself whilst on tour in the West Indies exacerbated the injury. These runs were ironically detrimental to his fitness and were an act of self laceration. In the isolation of a long tour far away from home comforts aka The King's Road and his waggle Jessica, he sought to calm his mind by pounding his body. This was the ultimate masochistic act. The act of a disturbed sportsman. A man on the brink.

We hoped that through victory in this series Kevin's demons could be silenced but he has been denied the opportunity for public salvation. As he nurses himself back to health on the sofa, I hope that he finds solace in the progress of our team. FIGJAM never wanted to be a member of a one man team; the inferiority of his team-mates drove him to distraction and contributed to him risking the captaincy in the hope of securing regime change. Now, they can go on and win The Ashes without him. The departure of Moores has been the catalyst in an upsurge in the team's fortunes. Pietersen, unwillingly perhaps, has ultimately sacrificed himself for the good of the team.

On reflection, the news that KP is out for the rest of the series is a relief. It is a release from the notion that we are a one man batting band and time for the rest of our willow wackers to come out from the wings. I'm uncertain Mr Bell is the answer but it is time for messrs Cook and Bopara to announce themselves on The Ashes stage. Our batsmen are understudies no longer.

2nd Test : Day Five - History made as England triumph

There is a great man who makes every man feel small. But the real great man is the man who makes every man feel great.
- G. K. Chesterton

England 425 & 311-6 dec beat Australia 215 & 406

I am still in shock. We have beaten the Aussies at Lord's for the first time in 75 years. And, in the end, our victory came with some ease. Who do we have to thank for such unexpected delights? Andrew Flintoff. Of course.

Cometh the hour, cometh the man. Fred carried the team on his shoulders into the promised land of victory at The Home of Cricket yesterday. The fairytale I forecast came to fruition in sumptuous style. In his final test match at HQ, the all-rounder produced one of his finest displays of bowling in an England jersey with his first five-for at Lord's to secure the history making win. As play started, all eyes were on Friedrich; he seemed to metamorphose before the crowd as if he had been drinking from a curious bottle in Alice's Wonderland - "She drinks of the bottle and she starts getting bigger and bigger and bigger until she doesn’t fit in the house anymore". Fred filled the ground and the stage was set.

MORNING SESSION : HOODOO LIFTED BY THE HAND OF FRED

On the eve of the fifth day, the atmosphere at Lord's was one of eerie tension; the silence was deafening and relentless as people scuttled to their seats in grim anticipation. When Clive Radley rung the bell to signal that were just five minutes left before the start of play, the hush was lifted. Brocko led his team onto the field and the crowd clapped as loudly as cricketing etiquette permits. Jimmy opened the bowling with a maiden from the Nursery End and then the moment came. Freddie came onto bowl from the Pavilion End and begun as potently as we had ever seen him bowl. His knee injury seemed a mirage as he struck with his fourth ball of the over as Gilchrist II edged to Colly at slip. Haddin was finally removed; the impenetrable partnership had been broken. We were into their tail and we were on the verge of victory, at last. With a single delivery, our Flintstone dispelled all doubt in the crowd. He stood erect, arms by his sides, as his team-mates engulfed him. The message was clear - I am all you need. I am the Man. I am proof that a win is attainable.

The nation's favourite Flintstone secured the history making win almost single handedly but plaudits must also go to Dr Comfort. I was calling for Marcel to be brought onto bowl for over half an hour before the Captain threw him the ball just before noon. In his opening over, our Swann bowled the Pup, the Aussies' last batsman standing, with his second ball of the day and roared away in celebration. The tail was truly exposed now. Shortly after play resumed, Friedrich completely deceived the Haur with an almost unplayble delivery and the non-spinning spinner was dismissed for a single run. Fred raised his arms in triumph as the crowd let loose in relief. Glory was inevitable now.

We watched in awe as The Flintstone continued to hurl himself at the beleaguered Aussies. My companions in the crowd were astonished that The Big Man was continuing his spell beyond the now customary seven overs but, though his body was clearly aching now, he persevered in search for a final wicket, a fifth wicket to silence the critics who claim he hasn't claimed enough five wicket hauls in his career and to write his name on the Honours Board as a bowler on his final attempt. "Get Siddle on strike," I muttered to The Eternal Optimist. The Vicious one is a tryer but no master with the willow. After a no ball, Fred's eighth and, seemingly final over at HQ, was extended by another ball. He charged in and castled the befuddled batsmen. Lord's was alight; all proper conduct forgotten as we erupted to salute our hero. Flintoff got down one one knee, genuflecting to his flock. He was on the honours board as a bowler at last. His team-mates surged upon him once more. Cricket may be seen in some circles as a team game but it is one which is decided by individual brilliance. Fred doffed his sun-hat to the crowd as he retreated into the field. The noise was ceaseless.

We were drunk on the fairytale of Flintoff's flamboyant farewell. We awaited the final wicket in excited expectation now. Johnson reached his 50 but nobody seemed to notice. Marcel returned to the attack and bowled MJ for 63. Australia were all out for 406. We had completed the demolition before lunch. What a morning! What a performance from Freddie! What a turn-around from Cardiff! Having been on the brink of defeat at Swalec, we were now one nil up in the series. The post-match ceremony was keenly observed by the 25,000 capacity crowd as the Flintstone duly picked up his man of the match award and the captains deconstructed the narrative of the past five days. Strauss' curious decision not to enforce the follow on can now be consigned to history. The Urn is now, whisper it, within reach.

Quote of the Day: The Novice - "I just switched on to see us win but it's all over. What happened?". Having been informed that we were on the verge of triumph and told to switch on the TV, our rookie was not quick enough to witness our heroics. That will teach her for labelling cricket a slow game.

Ornithological Count: Freddie in flight more than satiated our appetite for winged wonders.

Barminess Barometer: 200% - Who could ever have imagined a Lord's crowd behaving like they did yesterday? It most uncouth. Standing up and jumping with unfettered joy was daring enough but the cheering that accompanied Flintoff's mastery was truly radical. Wild. Unprecedented. Brilliant.

I'd like to pay tribute to Marcel who excelled yesterday alongside our talisman. His dismissal of the Hussler on Sunday has been called into question - replays suggest that the batsman didn't hit the ball - but his second innings figures of 4 for 87 were terrific and suggest that his Cardiff woes were an aberration. Our bowling attack looks in its best shape for some time. The seamers compliment each other well and in our Swann we have a spinner with menace from both ball and bat. Our batting line-up remains something of a concern, however. Bopara at No. 3 has been unable to settle which has exposed our middle order batsman too early.

We have taken the lead in a home Ashes series but questions remain. First and foremost, will the titans Freddie and KP be fit for the next test? Will Ravinder deliver? Have we have curbed our appetite for self destruction?

But, for now, let's rejoice in our success and give thanks to His Fredness. A Lion. A Larrikin. A Legend.

2nd Test : Day Four - All results now possible

Optimism is the opium of the people.
Milan Kundera, The Joke

England: 1st innings - 425 & 2nd innings - 311-6 dec; Australia: 1st innings - 215 & 2nd innings - 313-5 (day four, stumps)

Hindsight is a fine thing. If only I had known what was to unfold this afternoon, I wouldn't have awoken this morning scenting victory in a single day. Cricket can be the cruellest of sports. I now type this fearing defeat. The prospect of losing this test was unprecedented at the start of play today but England never fail to surprise and, from a position of great promise, we now face humiliation. On the eve on the fifth day, I am all aquiver.

MORNING SESSION : HIS FREDNESS ON FIRE

We anticipated a rain affected day in our pursuit of the ten wickets that would bring glory and, sure enough, the start of play was delayed until 11.15am. This meant that Strauss declared immediately. We had 190 overs to remove the Aussies and patience was paramount but early inroads were vital too. Anderson and Fred opening the bowling aggressively and, after just a quarter of an hour, the Flinstone made the breakthrough removing the Kat for just six. Replays showed that the big man had overstepped and that the delivery was a no-ball but c'est la vie. They say you make your own luck in sport and it's truism that decisions go in your favour when you are playing well. Our opening pair were penetrative and on the prowl. Punter, our favourite pantomime villain, was now at the crease and looking to make amends for his fielding faux-pas; he was determinedly watchful and paternal towards his young partner, The Prodigy. At noon, high drama ensued as another controversial dismissal was on the cards. Hughes edged to slip off Friedrich and Strauss claimed the catch but Ponting told his partner to stay at the crease. Rudi chose not to refer the decision to the third umpire and, having checked with the square leg umpire and confirmed with Strauss that the ball had carried, gave the decision. Hughes was on the way back to the hutch. We were 34-2 and rampant. The hostility of Fred's opening spell of 5 overs 2 maidens 2 wickets for 4 runs had been exquisite and he was withdrawn from the attack to rapturous applause. Fellow seamers Broad and Onions came to the fore and tested a fuming Punter and his Hussler with some searing deliveries of their own. The pair advanced not without toil and reached lunch on 76-2.

AFTERNOON SESSION : HISTORY IN THE MAKING

The afternoon session got underway on time - the Elements, as well as the umpires, were on our side - and we claimed the prized wicket of the Aussie skipper within minutes. Broad had taken a key scalp at last and the Baggy Green were quaking on 78-3. "This could be all over by five", I proclaimed. The ball was beginning to reverse swing and our quicks looked like they wanted to wrap this up in hours rather than sessions. Brocket was proactive too, choosing to introduce spin as the seamers begun to tire. Marcel delivered in his opening spell removing Cricket Tragic for 27 runs. The Aussies position was pretty tragic - 120-4 with countless overs still to play and a man arriving at the crease on a pair. North avoided that particular ignominy but he didn't last long. Dr Comfort's confidence had returned and he removed Marcus for four with a quicker delivery just before 15.00. It was down to Clarke and Haddin, the Aussies last two recognised batsmen, to restore some sort of order and get through to tea unscathed. But England were closing in on victory and Freddie was still firing. The Pup and Gilchrist II rode out his spell and Clarke reached a quick-fire counterattacking 50. The vice-captain was relishing the responsibility of the ultimate rescue mission. Had, at the other end, was playing positively. He knows no other way. Just before the break, they recorded a 50 partnership. We had been held off but the Aussies were still on death row.

EVENING SESSION : ON THE ROAD TO NOWHERE

The less said about the elongated evening session the better. There were 49 possible overs to play, in mathematical terms, over half of the day remained, but we secured no further wickets. The Pup made his first century in England and Had raced away to 50+. Beefy acknowledged that "all had gone a little quiet" at 16.20 but we were unable to arrest the slide. As the partnership flowed on and on into the 100s, we brought Colly onto bowl in tandem with our Swann and waited eagerly for the new ball. We counted down the overs until it was able as the batsmen recorded the highest sixth wicket Aussie Ashes stand at Lord's. It was desperate to watch. Brocko held a team huddle whilst the new ball was collected to try in an attempt to rally his troops and regain control of the match. Australia now needed 235 more runs to win the test. We were unable to regain composure and made no incisions with the new ball. Our flatness in the field for two hours or so as our bowlers toiled combined with the counter-attacking prowess of our opponents had nullified our belief. At 18.25, it was something of a relief when bad light stopped play. The past few hours of cricket had been trying viewing. A wicket never looked imminent. We need to regroup and recharge over night. Australia are now in sight of a nigh on impossible escape, needing 209 more runs to record a historic victory. We must be clinical tomorrow. The first hour will be crucial. A fairytale finish for Freddie is on the cards. We require 5 wickets for our first victory at Lord's for 75 years.

Quote of the Day: Robin Williams' immortal line deserves more exposure - "Cricket is basically baseball on valium".

Ornithological Count: Not a feather to divulge. It seems the birds were all in prayer.

Barminess Barometer: 50% - Rolf Harris was the highlight of the crowd. Sundays don't attract the premium brand.

There is nothing left to say. Come on England.

2nd Test : Day Three - England veer towards victory

The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
So quick bright things come to confusion.
A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act I Scene i

England 1st innings: 425 and 2nd innings: 311-6 ; Australia - 1st innings: 215 (day three, stumps).

I've always been wary of watching cricket in a hungover state. The irascibility that comes with a pounding head doesn't sit easily with the rhythms of the game. However, I decided that I couldn't sacrifice everything for The Ashes. Hour upon hour of television viewing in stark concentration had meant that my sanity was on the brink. A night out on Friday seemed the perfect cure. When I woke up on the eve of play, I begun to doubt my audacity. I struggled downstairs to catch the first ball, Nurofen in hand. I was urging England to produce. I had enough of my own self inflicted pain to endure...

MORNING SESSION : A MYSTERY OR A MUDDLE?

The Aussies begun the day needing 70 more runs to follow on and with pace still in the pitch we were confident of knocking over the last two wickets with ease. The momentum had shifted so far in our favour that a fight-back from the Aussie tail was almost impossible to countenance. Their innings had only lasted 50 overs so our bowlers were fresh and raring to go. We scented further scalps in minutes. Unfortunately, Sid and Nancy - sorry, the Haur - dug in and their partnership lasted for over half an hour. Our aggressive field meant that sacrifices on the boundary had to be made and both batsmen reaped the gap at third man with ease. Shakespeare, at last, removed the non spinning spinner for 24 to reduce our foes to 196 - 9. They needed just 12 more runs to avoid the ignominy of being put into bat as Hilfy walked to the crease. The tension was palpable as we sensed a missed opportunity to inflict a huge psychological blow. All our hopes rested with The Medieval Face as Freddie was ignored (presumably injury induced) and Anderson was toiling with the old ball. On cue, Onions struck again as the Vicious one edged a delivery to Our Lord at slip. The Aussies were 6 runs behind and in serious arrears.

It looked as if we were about to see the Enemy follow on in a test match for the first time since Trent Bridge in 2005. The decision to enforce the game's greatest embarrassment aka the follow on seemed an obvious one but as Strauss and Cook raced from the field with intent it became clear that Brocko had decided against it. I was livid. An unbroken 50 stand btwn Brocko and the Chef ensued but all momentum had been lost. Our stranglehold of the match had been loosened.

AFTERNOON SESSION : RISK AVERSE STRAUSS SUFFERS THE CONSEQUENCES

Thoroughly unimpressed and more than a little confused, I settled down to watch the afternoon's play still aghast at the captain's decision. Why let the Aussies off the hook? The test match was open once more. If our opponents had been batting again, their chances of winning the match would have been minimal. With so much time left in the game, our fate now lay with our batsman to secure a commanding lead. It was obtuse. Our bowlers, despite their misfiring antics in Cardiff, are our strongest weapon. If the decision was something of a risk, it was a risk well worth taking.

I watched on in fury as first the Chef and then Strauss were ensnared LBW by Haur shortly after lunch. We were now 74-2. The sight of our two most out of nick batsman together at the crease - comrades Kevin and Ravinder - was a galling one. Just after 14.00, KP was almost dismissed twice off the same ball. The delivery from The Hilfenmeister outfoxed him and then, as KP was floundering down the pitch fearing the worst, Punter inexplicably missed a golden run out chance from slip. In the next over, Ponting came to our rescue again. The usually slipper dropped Ravi on 9 off Siddle in the slip cordon. Both captains had lost the plot.

The Aussie skipper was incandescent. Having led his team so superbly at Swalec with a century and an inspired performance in the field, he had become a Jonah for his own team. Our batsman continued to look uneasy and scratched around at both ends. Both players were searching for form in the most testing of arenas but battled on to reach 100-2 - and secure a lead of 310 runs. The pair were unable to settle and their running between the wickets was restricted because Kevin's Achilles injury impaired his movement. It was torturous to watch. The run-rate slowed significantly and, although the wide boys continued to persevere and completed a 50 partnership, their performance seemed to vindicate my dismay at Brocket's decision. The test match had almost ground to a halt. We had become passengers not aggressors. The attacking intent that a declaration demands was entirely absent. Bopara was almost dismissed just before tea but the Haur was denied a catch when the third umpire declared that the ball had not carried. Kevin hobbled off at the end of the session on 130-2 joined by an amusingly unabashed Ravi who could have walked.

EVENING SESSION : ENGLAND PRESS ON ... AT LAST

The evening session demanded a tempo shift. It was to be a three hour marathon of up to 42 overs and by the end of the day we were looking for a lead of 500 odd. It was clear that the conservative Brocket was unlikely to declare before close but it was essential that we upped the run rate to enable us to declare as early as possible on Sunday and give us the maximum amount of time to bowl the Aussies out on days four and five. The Haur opened the bowling and soon removed the perilous Puppy for 27. I was pleased to see his wicket fall and the most unfortunate of unions end. If anyone could aid Kevin into nick at the crease, it was our Ginga Ninja. Colly was off the mark first ball with a four and we hoped for another productive partnership from the polar opposites. This wish was short-lived as KP soon edged behind to Haddin off Sid. Our latest invalid had earned 44 runs off 101 balls but had scarcely played less like himself. Kevin and Freddie may be titans but they should not be selected if they are not 100% fit. The Aussies don't need any help. Why are we playing with two crocks in our side?

Pietersen's dismissal ended up being a blessing, however, and the new partnership of The Nurdler and The Teeth re-energised our play. At 17.00, our lead had moved onto 391 with 30 overs of the day still to play. "A sense of urgency has returned," Gower eulogised in relief. Colly and Prior were both freely playing shots and rushed to a 50 partnership. Our non wicket-keeping wicket keeper then claimed his 50 from just 57 balls - his quickest yet for England. Unfortunately, he was run out shortly afterwards but his knock had been a vital one. We lead by 470 on 260-5 as Freddie entered the party for his final innings at Lord's with a licence to thrill. Or kill. Beefy and Shayne couldn't decide. Our venomous exuberance continued as Collingwood reached 50 with our lead on 499 with Fred thrashing away and moving around the crease at the other end. As we pressed on and our lead passed the 500 mark, direction from above was summoned. Confusion rained as The Flinstone waved to the balcony in search of guidance. We had a lead of 512. How big a cushion did we want?

Messages in a bottle from Kurt Cobain arrived to enlighten our batsmen. 12th man Ian Cobain rushed on carrying an energy drinks bottle to impart the news that bad light meant that we couldn't declare. Permission to bludgeon around was granted. A 50 partnership had been reached with ease just before the cherubic messenger arrived from the balcony and the pair pressed on. With the last ball of the day, Colly was removed for 54. The rain fell with our second innings score a stout 311-6. After a romping run rate of 5.78 from our final batsmen, it was all quiet on the Lordian front. Play was officially abandoned and we were free to dream of victory.

Quote of the Day: The Eternal Optimist - "I'm stuck shooting in Canterbury and have no clue what's happening".

Ornithological Count: Normal service resumed. The only wings on show were those donned by Kurt, the Messenger.

Barminess Barometer: Off the scale and impossible to calculate. Boris Johnson and mini Boris were in attendance. The hair was in true hedge affected splendour. And that's the father I'm talking about. The son's mane looked like a bird's nest. The pair spent much of yesterday grimacing, all slumber. Terrifying stuff. I also detected Chavs in the crowd. Yes, really. Chavs at Lord's. You heard it hear first. Who let them pass through the gates? I think I need to lie down...

Our bowling dynamos should be unleashed from the off tomorrow to put us in position to win the test as quickly as possible. They must show why Strauss should have had more faith in them. I don't think they will disappoint.

2nd Test : Day Two - Arise J M Anderson : a new leader of our attack is born

When true silence falls we are left with echo but are nearer nakedness.
Harold Pinter, Writing for the Theatre

England - 1st innings : 425; Australia - 1st innings : 156 - 8 (day two, stumps).

Sometimes proximity can blur judgement. Having slept on our first day's score, I woke heartened and in anticipation once again. Of course, our customary collapse remained a disappointment but racking up such a high score in a single day against the old enemy rendered the day a largely positive one. I was eager to see our Lord achieve his highest test score yet and contribute to us posting an imposing first innings total. An under-pressure Aussie innings was a tantalising prospect. Our bowlers had failed in Cardiff and would be keen to make amends on a much kinder surface. Alongside The Bearded Lady and a reluctant Novice, I sunk into the sofa and tuned into the familiar, dulcet tones of our ring-master, Mr Gower.

MORNING SESSION : ENGLAND - FIT FOR A QUEEN

The Baggy Green's best bowler of the series and the owner of the team's dullest nickname - Hilfy - unsurprisingly opened the bowling and we were cheered to see his first ball pass through to Haddin with Brocket untroubled. A couple of looseners were in the offing. But, the Skipper was dulled into a false sense of calm and, clearly too relaxed, left the next ball which was much straighter and his off stump was removed. He had been bowled by the second ball of the morning and only a minute into the day. Pessimism swept over us once more. Nasser, having eulogised Brocko's century just minutes earlier in typically hackney terms - "it speaks volumes for his mental strength", reminded us all that the Lord was notorious for not adding to his total when on a hundred over-night. Athers explained that a lack of sleep could have been to blame as shut-eye after such an electrifying innings would have been difficult. The Lord certainly did look lethargic... Marcel joined the Blonde bombshell at the crease and got off the mark with a boundary. On 364-7 we were relying on our tail to wag to reach 400 and beyond. Sid Vicious was immediately brought onto bowl to work over Dr Comfort a la Cardiff and Punter's plan was quickly realised. The Chin was out for just four in the fourth ball of Sid's over, prodding to Ponting himself at slip off a short ball. There was movement and bounce in the pitch and the Aussie's cloud-cover assisted bowling was rejuvenated. Boyband was bowled by Da Haus in the very next over and was out for 16 runs off 26 balls. The mornings' first three overs had seen three wickets fall. We were 278-9 and a total of 400 looked a very long way off.

It had been a disastrous start. Shakespeare arrived for his maiden test innings looking pensive. The Hilfenmesiter had just achieved test bets figures of 4 for 89 from 27 overs and a five for and a place on the hallowed Lord's honours board looked mere minutes away. Comic relief then came to our rescue. We received some respite in the form of a sickly Sid on the brink off collapse. "Onions is getting peppered and Siddle looks like he's going to fall over. I don't know who I'm more worried about." Who knew Nass had an inner Marie Curie? After half an hour, the Vicious one was forced to leave the field, stopping only to be sick as he neared the boundary. The Aussie had desecrated the turf - the ultimate cricketing blasphemy. The Bearded Lady decided that Swine Flu must be the cause...

Against all the odds, our final batting partnership persevered in some style with The Medieval Face quickly onto double figures. At 11.37 the misfiring Johnson (insert inappropriate joke here) fumbled a run out chance and, soon after, an Anderson four brought up the 400. Jimbo was officially our new batting hero and laying claim to becoming our no.1 willow wacker of the series. The Vicious one returned to the field but still looked on the brink. 450 was once again a realistic target and we were approaching it with no little speed. Just before noon, our tenth wicket stand was 41 from just 44 balls. Unfortunately, MJ then strayed from his default waywardness and removed Jimmy with a short ball for 29. We were all out for 425. We hadn't quite managed 450 but the tail had salvaged respectability. Duncan Fletcher's mantra about multi dimensional cricketers had rung true once again.

The bowlers had delivered with the bat and their potency with the ball was now in demand. It was time to produce with the day job. The ball was still swinging so there would be no room for excuses; early inroads with the still newish ball would be crucial in wrestling control of the match. Anderson opened the innings with a maiden and Freddie responded with a maiden at the other end. The conditions married with the contrasting styles of the Aussie opening pair offered us some hope and in the third over JA struck, removing the potentially explosive Hughes for just 4. The silence was broken and Lord's couldn't suppress its excitement. Cries of "Jimmy, Jimmy" rang out across the ground as Punter arrived at the crease. The Baggy Green captain was the prize wicket; if he were to be dismissed before lunch, the session and perhaps the test itself would be in our hands. He was quickly off the mark but, twenty minutes later, he was outfoxed by an Anderson inswinger and seemingly caught behind by Strauss at slip. Koertzen referred the decision to the third umpire as the England players celebrated and Ricky remained resolute at the crease.

After what seemed like an interminable pause, Rudi raised his finger and Ponting had to walk. The 'catch' had been given. Hawk Eye replays suggested that the ball had actually hit his pad and missed his bat completely but this didn't render the decision incorrect. Ponting was certainly out but he should have been dismissed LBW not caught behind. It is an understatement to label the moment a controversial one. It was a decisive and series turning dismissal. The Aussies were 10 - 2 and reeling with their captain and best batsman back in the pavilion having scored just 2 runs. Both batsmen at the crease were on 0 with twenty minutes to last out but the Kat and Mr Cricket somehow scratched around until lunch with their wickets intact. Australia were 22-2. With the Queen in attendance, we were alive.

AFTERNOON SESSION : WEATHER AIDS AUSSIE FIGHT BACK

The afternoon session was a chequered one. Rain ensured that it was a stop-start series of overs and our bowlers as a result found it difficult to maintain any rhythm. Or perhaps they were still recovering from meeting Victoria. There was only half an hour of play before the first stoppage. The umpires had looked fidgety from the off sensing an imminent downpour and our bowlers were little better with both Anderson and Broad bowling too wide. At 14.06, the players retired to the dressing rooms with the Aussies on 31-2. Play restarted just over half an hour later as the floodlights were turned on in the wake of cloud cover. Enforcing the follow-on was a distinct prospect already, if only the weather would hold out. We sensed a window of opportunity with the batsmen having to effectively begin their innings again at each restart. Unfortunately, both sides had to scuttle off again at 14.55 and remained sidelined until 15.40. The session was extended to accommodate the delays and appeared almost never-ending. Our bowling had been unsettled by the disruption and Strauss elected to challenge the incumbent batsmen by summoning Onions onto bowl for his maiden Ashes over. He wasn't immediately effective and the Baggy Breen rear-guard action was in motion with a 50 partnership. Some chin music from Westlife failed to yield a breakthrough and The Chin himself was unveiled but to little effect. The Aussies reached 87 for 2 at tea and incisions were not looking immediate.

EVENING SESSION : THERE WILL BE BLOOD

The talk during the break was of GBH's 6 for 20 at Durham. Our faith in our bowling attack was waning after JA and Fred had shone so brightly in the morning. The Kat was on 40 and his partner Cricket Tragic on 37 as play resumed at 16.40. We needed a breakthrough as they neared a century partnership and with Freddie still economical but not overly penetrating we seemed anchorless. Then, just before 17.00, Shakespeare struck removing Kat for 48 as Boyband took a wonderful catch at fine leg. We were reborn. Fred was bounding in again and the sight of a new batsman electrified the field. The out of touch Hussey soon reached 50 off 82 but twenty minutes later Fred completed a blistering 95mph spell by clipping the top of his off stump. The Aussies were 111-4 and on the ropes at last.

With two new batsmen at the crease, we sensed blood and Jimbo produced dismissing Clarke for a single run. They were now reduced to 111 for 5. "England are all over Australia," exclaimed Warney. 112 runs were required for our opponents to avoid the follow on and it was down to two of their Cardiff centurions to see them through. North and Haddin were in a maelstrom. Fred was charging in and the crowd were rampant. The pair exhibited some resistance but it was short-lived. At 17.50 Marcus was bowled for a fourteen ball duck by the effervescent Anderson. He had stepped out from the shadows at last. With 4 for 27, the best Ashes figures of his career, the softly spoken Jimmy had announced himself as the leader of our attack.

The atmosphere intensified further as we looked to dismiss the Aussies before the day's play was over. Brocko gave the expensive Broad another chance and was rewarded as he removed the dangerous Johnson (he can still cut it with the willow) for just 4 runs. Haddin was counter-attacking well but he was running out of allies. At almost twenty past six, Broad secured another victim. Gilchrist II was back in the hutch and the Aussies were on the verge at 152-8. To the chagrin of the nation, play was stopped at 18.23 because of bad light and twenty minutes later play was called off for the day. But what a day! We had Lorded it up in some style.

Quote of the Day: The Novice on Brocket - "I like it that his hat has eyes"

Ornithological Count : Some signs of life at last. 1 Pigeon that stopped play, 2 Pigeons with only a passing interest in the game, 1 Duck shaped umbrella, 1 North (facing) Duck and a rumour that Channel Five's highlights show is unleashing our feathered friends into the action through photoshop or similar. Result.

Barminess Barometer : 100%. Russell Crowe was in the house today. Nuff said.

I just can't wait for play to resume. Let's make them follow on and annihilate em.

2nd Test : Day One - Strauss Sublime in Order of Uncertainty

There is no present or future, only the past, happening over and over again, now.
- Eugene O'Neill, A Moon for the Misbegotten

England - 1st innings : 364 - 6 (day one, stumps).

History was alive in the sound of cricket yesterday. As the teams walked through The Long Room just before 11am, the fragile immutability of The Ashes was tangible. With Test cricket facing an uncertain future and discussions to eliminate the fifth day forever already underway, thoughts drifted to the once unprecedented prospect that this could be the last true Ashes test at Lord's and lent a rose tinted shine to proceedings. It is a truth universally acknowledged that Test cricket must be in want of makeover. But, the affected glitz and glamour of the modern game in its ever shorter forms, designed to lure the reluctant fan, cannot match the simplicity and grandeur of tradition. Test Cricket must be preserved. The anticipation before yesterday's play surpassed any tension engendered by England's Twenty20 World Cup Matches earlier this summer. A Test match is a test; Twenty20 is mere frippery in comparison.

MORNING SESSION: IS THIS ENGLAND?

I sat astride the sofa with renewed hope, the oft fatal yet essential ingredient to any morning of the first day of a test match. The atmosphere in the ground had effortlessly wafted through the television set into my living room and I was energised by the occasion, eager to watch us make amends for the calamities of Cardiff. Having won the toss and chosen to bat, our openers strode confidently to the crease. The look they shared as they passed through The Long Room was one of calm; they seemed set to relish the occasion as opposed to being overawed. The body language battle of the morning had been won. Australia had, unsurprisingly, selected an un-changed side and appeared uneasy in the field before play got underway. Just three of their players, Punter, his deputy The Pup and The Kat, had played at the ground before and nerves had clearly come into play. Our recent poor record in The Ashes at Lord's had been well documented throughout the week but, now the ghouls of our pasts had become ghosts, this seemed the perfect opportunity to rectify the situation. It was delightful to see Hilfenhaus opening the bowling rather than the recently retired Glenn McGrath, our old nemesis at The Home of Cricket. The first ball was a dot ball at only 78mph and, though it was the beginning of a maiden over, it was hardly the most vitriolic of openings.

The silence at Lord's is a unique backdrop to test cricket; "there is a quiet buzz, a quiet hum," whispered Athers reverentially and Brocket and Chef seemed to find solace in the peace. Armed with the new ball, the Aussie opening pairs were making few in-roads. After 20 minutes, our Lord cut away a short and wide delivery for four down the slope off Johnson and our captain quickly raced onto 16 from 20 deliveries. Cooky, at the other end, didn't settle quite as quickly. He flashed at a Hilfenhuas delivery and edged to third slip but Ponting had just moved a man to second gully and our choir-boy escaped. There after, both our batsmen began to purr along serenely. The Emo cricketer's bowling was gloriously wayward and just before the hour, after thirteen overs, our opening pair racked up their first fifty partnership of the series in some style. They were going along at over four runs an over and Bumble was quivering with excitement. This is a "sultry day" he exalted. Unfortunately, he went on to name-check Sid's parents to puncture his reverence. (Mr and Mrs Vicious had been a ubiquitous feature in commentary in Cardiff and I was hoping this would cease at Lord's. Sadly, they seem to have made quite an impression on dearest David...)

Just as I was pondering putting the television on mute - the combination of Bumble and Shayne's far from lurid revelations was all too much, Cook reached his maiden fifty of the series with his eleventh four of the day off Sid. Mitchell was really struggling and the boundaries were flowing. The batsmen soon secured their seventh century partnership and looked gloriously well set. Punter was bemused and his field settings became ever more defensive. The quicks had floundered and the Haur had been unleashed but to little success. We reached lunch at 126 - 0 after 29 overs, still averaging over four runs an over, with the Chef on 67 not out and the Skipper, closing in on his own half century, on 47 not out. I was in shock; such an imperious, positive and confident batting display was redolent of, and I type this reluctantly, the great Australians of yore. We Poms rarely bat with such ease. Were we Australia in disguise?

AFTERNOON SESSION : STRAUSS MARCHES ON

I was clearly not alone in needing to lie down and grab a stiff drink at the break to recover from our prowess. The crowd were slow to return after lunch. Hilfenhaus and the Haur opened the bowling in earnest but our batsmen remained in effortless control. Our Lord duly reached his half century and, half an hour into the session, we reached yet another milestone, a 150 partnership that didn't look like stopping for some time. The Haur was then injured attempting a caught and bowled capture off Brocket and had to leave the field with a suspected dislocated finger or two. The hapless one had endeared himself to England supporters yet again. The Aussies were in disarray. With their non-spinning spinner off the field and Johnson scatter-gunning, they effectively had only two bowlers at their disposal - Hilfenhaus and Siddle - other than their part-timers - North, The Pup and The Kat. Sloppiness was rife in the field and England continued to capitalise. An hour into the afternoon, Cooky was closing in on his century on 91 and Brocket was not too far behind on 75. They had surpassed the largest opening stand for England at Lord's in an Ashes test and a double century stand seemed imminent. But with the Baggy Green's toiling, their largest culprit Mr. Emo removed the Chef LBW for 95 just after the drinks break. Our peerless partnership had been broken on 196 and the Australian's had the breakthrough, at last.

Ravinder strutted to the crease and was off the mark with a four - our dominance looked set to continue. Our very own Pup played dashingly for 18 before he was out LBW to Hilfenhaus to an inswinger having been suckered into playing the shot after two outswinging deliveries. Da Haus had been the only Aussie in the house at Lord's and had finally gained his reward. The curse of the scoreboard had struck again and we were disconcertingly on 222-2. After such an impressive opening stand, our new number 3 had failed to deliver for the third time this series and KP was at the crease, allegedly out of form and most certainly under pressure. Coming up to the tea break, the Lord was itching towards his 100 on 96 and an even more hyperactive than usual Pietersen was feeling around for form on 3. There was a run out chance at 15.29 as KP's unease rendered his movement frenetic. We hoped, nevertheless, that the pair could ride out until the break. In the last over before tea, KP was almost caught on 22 off a Hilfenmeister bouncer. Even as Brocket, was on course to reach his century his predecessor was competing for the spotlight. In the penultimate ball before the break, Straussy hit three more runs, reached his 100 and celebrated in his very own effusively English style. Ashes centuries at Lord's are the pinnacle for any batsmen. We went into tea on 255-2 and very much on top.

EVENING SESSION : OLD HABITS DIE HARD

I couldn't recall better consecutive sessions for England for some considerable time. It all felt too good to be true. The Singing Spinner texted to corroborate my thoughts. "Crikey" was indeed all that could be said. Even the proudest of pessimists Holding conceded that we were in a "great position". Brocket and KP had completed some decent partnerships for England in the past and the first few minutes of the evening went very much according to plan. Kevin was scoring quickly with some sumptuous drives and the Aussies were reduced to opening with part-timer North. But, after almost a quarter of an hour, the Vicious one found some late swing and removed Kevin for a "brisk 32" [nice adjective, Shayne]. In marched, Hero of Cardiff Colly looking furtive, as ever. He finally got off the mark at 16.27 and we envisioned the ginger gem and the lord of the manor staying in until close. Just before the hour, however, The Nurder suicidally holed out to some time spinner Clarke and the Aussies sensed blood...

Our enthusiasm begun to waver and anxiety set in. We were 302-4 on a seemingly perfect batting pitch. If a good score was 450 - 500 and beyond, then losing no further wickets before the end of the day was paramount. "Australia are on the sniff," said Bumble stating the bleeding obvious. Prior, not one for the trenches, again inspired discomfort at the crease. He lasted until 17.12 when Johnson who had been unable to hit the stumps all day managed to bowl his off stump. He was out for just eight off ten deliveries. We were 317 - 5 and shaking. Freddie's arrival for his penultimate test innings at Lord's was greeted by a half ovation; it was clearly deemed improper by the members to give him the adulation he deserved at such a perilous time in our innings. Fred was off the mark with a boundary and looked to be eager to play the super-hero once again. There were ten overs of the day left and it seemed written in the stars that he would see us through. These were tense times and there was no better man to stave off a collapse. Or so we thought. With half an hour until respite, Freddie was out for just 4 edging to Punter off Hilfenhaus. There was not to a Fairytale for Freddie at The Home of Cricket just yet. We had collapsed from 222-1 to 333-6. A combination of loose batting and swing bowling had led to our downfall. Brocket and Boyband lasted out the new ball which was introduced with five overs of play remaining and our Lord reached his 150 and 5,000 test runs before the day was out but we were deflated. Our position of command had been shattered.

This was still our very own unreliable, infuriating, lovable rogue - the England cricket team. The natural order had been restored.

Quote of the Day: Bumble - a long overdue honour for the great man - "Have you ever played the Didgeridoo? It's all about puckered lips..."

Ornithological Count : Another barren day. The sunshine may have put them off... Bird-watching opportunities look bleak this series. Ornithology may have to be aborted in favour of another noble pursuit. Any suggestions readers?

Barminess Barometer : 80% - the dress-code at Lord's renders fancy dress impossible but I find the gold and red striped members even more curious. White hats were in fine supply - fedoras and trilbys were the order of the day - and the range of suit colours was typically dour - cream, beige and, from the brave, a radical hint of navy. The celebridage were out in force - Stephen Fry in a dapper olive green suit, 2 Dirty Lickers, Chris Tarrant, John Major (shudder...) plus some sporting 'greats' - from Mark Webber to cricketing comrades Gilchrist, Waugh, Gooch, Lehmann etc etc. Several old biddies were also out for the day - one woman in the crowd looked at least 80 and I feared that she would die whilst watching. It was certainly a surprise to learn that some of these old codgers had been queuing since 3am for the best seats... A man who looked like he had dressed up as a scarecrow was briefly on camera in honour of his fielding prowess. That is the problem with enforced suited and bootism - some of us still can't scrub up well...

Here's hoping the rain stays away. I do have a ticket for Monday's potential play at Lord's but I think we could make some statements today. Let's cling to the memory of those first two sessions where we bamboozled and frustrated The Baggy Green. We must aim to accrue 450 + runs and then unveil our much vaunted swing bowlers into action to exploit the seemingly advantageous conditions. I cling to the hope that we can challenge our history and produce with the bat this morning. The next few sessions could have a decisive impact on this match and the series at large.

2nd Test : 30 mins to go - Freddie casts a shadow over task at hand

Show me a hero and I will write you a tragedy
F. Scott Fitzgerald

We haven't won an Ashes test at Lord's since 1934 but Freddie's decision to retire from Test cricket has dominated pre-match talk. I am one of Fred's biggest fans and defenders but I shall wait until the end of the summer to write my tribute to the finest cricketing character of his generation. Let's focus on the task at hand and leave eulogies until the conclusion of this series. The timing of this decision is an unfortunate one. We do not want this Ashes battle to become Fred's farewell tour. His legacy will be a long one, whatever his performances in the next four test matches, but this conflict is about much more than one man.

The mistakes of Cardiff need to be corrected at The Home of Cricket.

Each member of the team must deliver. No more dress rehearsals, please.

1st Test : Analysis - Waiting for Brocko

There are people to whom you could not say insulting things. They give you a feeling that the world would be destroyed, would actually be destroyed before your eyes, if you said certain things.
- Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises

The fall-out from Sunday's heroic exploits has been a predictable one. "The spirit of a cricket", a phrase rarely synonymous with Punter's Australia, has become our opponents' long lost ally and been summoned to tar our achievements and unsettle our camp. The Aussie players have been quick to highlight the depravity of our behaviour, the newly hallowed Haur apart, of course. Nathaniel is quickly becoming our favourite Baggy Green bastard of the series. Not that there is much of a selection. Hearing Sid Vicious wax lyrical about fulfilling his childhood dream of playing at Lord's was a maudlin cliché ridden attempt at a riposte and, ultimately, a reminder that several sportsman should be seen and not heard...

We all wanted to muzzle M P Vaughan in the end but it seems our erstwhile captain will be pontificating away all summer. He may have retired but he has not lost his ghastly habit of speaking about himself in the third person or refrained from disseminating his supposedly helpful advice to incumbent captains through that old favourite vehicle of his, the media. Needless to say the comparisons between Vaughany and Brocket have been unfavourable so far to say the least. Our Lord has come under severe criticism not just from our dear friends dahn under but from former England captains turned commentators for his so-called desperate tactics in that mythical final over hour at Swalec amongst other things. An endless list of failures has been proffered, from unimaginative field placings and bowling changes to the fragility of his own batting. There seems to be a consensus that Strauss is a little "too nice" and middle class to captain his nation successfully. One paper interviewed Brocket's "uni mates" on the eve of the series who were happy to ratify such claims; these heathens suggested that Andrew was certainly not captaincy material whilst studying at Durham since he was rather directionless and far too laidback. The implication being that he was not born to do the job a la Atherton. With friends like these...

The Phoenix and The Singing Spinner were on hand to test these claims on Monday when Our Leader and some of his comrades appeared at the 'Adidas Performance Store' on Oxford Street alongside some of the Aussies. The players were ostensibly on show to sign merchandise (there was not an embargo on Adidas only produce - a surprise) and pose for photographs but we wanted to try and delve further. We hoped to read their body-language and decipher The Truth. I must confess, I didn't hold Brocket in high esteem at this point but I went in with an open-mind. The Singing Spinner and I were also eager to observe the egos on show; if reports were to be believed, we wouldn't need a magnifying glass to detect any signs of rivens in the team. The queue was awash with rumour. Strauss, Self appointed Adonis and Chef were certain to show. The Pup too. And then whispers of Westlife's imminent arrival swirled round, much to the delight of the teeny-boppers standing behind us. They unleashed their cameras, chattering excitedly about photos they had had taken with Alesha Dixon and some homogenous girlbands. "Some people must do this for a living," dead-panned the Spinner... "Where is Freddie?," I lamented.

We stood in line calmly for two hours - watching cricket imbues many gifts and amongst the finest is patience. But, I reached my limit and became delirious as the wait continued. "Look, there's Kevin," I exclaimed. My myopia had run wild. It was an Adidas employee. I hadn't been parry to a meet-and-greet queue for some years and had forgotten how to behave. The problem with queuing for such an event is the knowledge that once the allotted arrival time has passed, in this case 15.30, you cannot move for fear that all your hours toil would be in vain. Leaving the queue would be inauspicious in the extreme. Once your chosen Godot has arrived, all morality is forgotten. If I was to depart, I might not get a chance to join in the stampede and meet Our Heroes. Remaining resolute was no longer effortless. Pins and needles had paralysed one of my legs and I was bursting for the toilet. TV crews swarmed around us eager to find out exactly which Man had us waiting under some considerable sufferance. Luckily, the Spinner was on hand to induce calm. Or so I thought... My nerves had infected him and he muttered that the last time he had felt like this was when he was about to go on stage at school. This was a portentous, indeed.

Suddenly, the Aussie troupe arrived in the window and The Wait was over. Having just realised that we had no idea what we would say to the players, our moment on the sapphire pavement of the sky was here, at last. Four members of the Enemy bore down upon us. We quickly spotted The Prodigy, Gilchrist II and the Kat posing in their unfortunately hued kit, more than a little abashed, but the fourth member remained an enigma. In my excitement, I temporarily forgot the identity of the Hussler. It seemed an impostor had been summoned to make up the numbers. A die-hard Barmy fan shouted a role-call to the swarming hoards and I stood corrected. A most forgivable faux-pas, given Hussey's paltry innings of 3 at Cardiff. My next two err moments were not quite as forgivable...

Bear with me dear readers, my conversational cackhandedness is well worth reading. The English Chosen Ones were as predicted - the five rhyming 'Amigo's : Straussy, Cooky, Ravi, Stuy and KP, and my focus was clear. Obtain a photo with Kevin whether we are told that no more photos are allowed or not. Just before we reached the players, we were duly informed that photography was now prohibited. This seemed outrageous. The Spinner had arrived in the queue just after 13.00; we were far from last minute lackeys. "Just ignore them," I whispered. The Singing Spinner, not wanting to be ejected from the shop, thought it best if we asked permission. But there wasn't time and we approached the players hoping to act out our plan in as seamless a way as possible. As soon as I was faced with the captain, I realised that scripting the event might have been wise. What had we been talking about in the queue for all those hours? How could we have reached the threshold without words. My default conversational stance in moments of awkwardness is to talk too much, too quickly and it set in. Before I knew what I was saying, I shoved my hat in front of the Lord and said "It used to be Vaughany's and it's now yours...". Trailing off, I recognised my foolishness. Disaster! I had addressed the taboo of this cricketing age - the captaincy. And Lord and Adonis were sitting next to each other. What a fool! Lord B interrupted me and said "yes, thanks" but it was too late. I had been overheard by Kevin, sitting at the right hand side of the Lord. I changed tack with Brocket - "You must be exhausted after yesterday..." - and he replied cheerfully and calmly. He was in his element. I was thoroughly impressed with his joviality when faced with such an awed supporter but I couldn't dwell on this. I had Kevin to come. How would he respond after my verbal diarrhoea exploded in his face?

Eager to compensate for my indecency, I greeted KP with the words "It's such an honour to meet you" but the damage had been done. He looked towards me but through me. Impassive. I tried again. "I'm really excited about this series". He responded in cold, curt monotone - "I'm enjoying it too". Largely unflustered, I asked him one final, tentative question - "Would it be OK if I had my picture taken with you?". At last, he smiled - "Of course". FIGJAM was back in focus and back in the room, his ego massaged at last. The Singing Spinner, on hand with camera, then managed to commit his own irremediable sin of the afternoon. His camera wouldn't work. Straussy and KP, adjoined at last posing with me, held their smiles for what seemed like hours. "This one isn't any good under pressure," chuckled Brocket. Fuming, The Spinner tapped and tapped away on the digital demon but it wouldn't budge. Reluctantly, in grave embarrassment, we gave up. The captain and his predecessor, seemingly undeterred, carried on signing and greeting fans as we scuttled away into the Lion's Den aka the Aussie layer via Broad. I decided not to speak to Boyband in fear that I would make yet another mistake. Ravi and Cooky had been dismissed downstairs for interview which may have been a good thing. The Spinner and I were making quite an exhibition of ourselves...

Our time with the Baggy Greens didn't quite go to plan either. The Spinner thrust an England shirt at them and was told, in no uncertain terms, that no England garments were to be touched let alone signed by the Aussie players. Hoping to make amends, I presented them with my mini cricket bat and unleashed a classic opening gambit. "You lot are a bit neglected over here, aren't you?", I said to The Prodigy. He looked up at me, unsure whether I had insulted him or made a joke. I laughed lightly to indicated that I hadn't just slated him in his face. Young Phil looked up at me nervously and simply replied "Yes". English humour obviously doesn't translate...

Having observed the players in such close proximity - first, jostling in the shop window and then, vying for attention at the signing, it's clear that the murmurs of discomfort from Team England are real but not wholesale. The pretty boys looked like good mates and Bopara acted laconic when faced with the spotlight. In the end, we had been reassured. Our search for Brocko was over. Who is Strauss, our England captain? Being a firm believer in solipsism, I wouldn't ever lay claim to knowledge but the skipper has certainly been misconstrued in most quarters. The impenetrable Brocket comes with both a smile and a sharp-tongue. He may act the "all round good bloke" but there is iron beyond those eyes. Perhaps this shouldn't have come as a surprise. Brocko has been victorious in the battle of Wills with former skippers Freddie and KP. The stars of 05 fell from grace in pursuit of greatness as captains as Our Lord repeaed reward, silent but present, standing tall to inherit the posioned chalice. Our hunt for The Ashes is in good hands.

1st Test : Day Five - The Greatest of Great Escapes : England rise from the ashes of defeat

The victor belongs to the spoils.*
The Beautiful and Damned - F. Scott Fitzgerald

England 435 & 252-9 drew with Australia 674-6 declared (day five, stumps)

Yesterday was a day to tame them all. Some say that the only certainties in life are death, taxes and an English batting collapse but yesterday, somehow, against all the odds, we contravened all expectation and survived. "We are nil all," exclaimed Brocket, lost in euphoria as if we had reclaimed the Ashes themselves. And who can blame him? This is not a day for dissection. It is not a day to chastise the team for coming agonisingly close to an innings defeat. The fortitude demonstrated by the team was so unprecedented and exquisite that we must rejoice in the moment.

But, before I begin to discuss this most extraordinary series of fortunate events, I would like to offer an apologia to Mr P D Collingwood. What an innings from The Nurdler! His MBE is not in question now...

MORNING SESSION: WHERE IS THE RAIN?

The Bearded Lady, The Novice and I sat down to watch the opening session of the day with a sense of unspoken foreboding. Swalec Stadium was bathed in sunshine and Gower, grimacing with a smile as only he can, informed us that the weather forecast remained good for the rest of the day. With the wickets of the Chef and the Pup already gone, it seemed the stage was set for either the Lord or the self anointed Adonis KP to deliver us from defeat. When Hilfenhaus bowled Kevin just eighteen minutes into the session, our prospects looked bleak. Pietersen, clearly affected by the furore that greeted his dismissal to the supposedly timid Haur in our first innings, was cautious in his approach from the first ball of the morning and fatally chose to leave a ball from Benjamina thinking it was going past off-stump. Instead, his vacant off-stump was removed from the ground by a pumped-up Hilfenhaus and our demise looked cast. "Nerves and tension got to him," lamented Nass... The corridor of uncertainty had done for Pietersen and he was back in the hutch. Unable, for once, to play the Saviour.

In stepped lieutenant Colly to partner his captain and salvage some pride, at least. The pair survived until quarter to twelve but then the "cheeky-faced" Haur [Bumble - who else?] removed Strauss for seventeen and our prospects blackened even further. On a slow pitch, we were already four wickets down. The excitable Prior, not a man consonant with crisis survival, arrived at the crease and getting through until lunch unscathed looked impossible. "This could be all over by one", I muttered. Sure enough, The Teeth was removed by the increasingly rapacious Haur at 12.23, shockingly gloving the ball to Clarke at slip. If Matt had been told to be risk averse, he clearly wasn't listening. The sight of Freddie lumbering onto the pitch was not an entirely soothing one but a promising partnership with Collingwood was a possibility given their contrasting styles and temperaments. The pair survived until the break, though Fred looked as uneasy as ever at the beginning of his innings, and thoughts quickly turned to time. How long did we have to endure?

AFTERNOON SESSION : THE NURDLER TRANSFORMS INTO THE LITTLE ENGINE THAT COULD...

"As it neared the top of the grade, which had so discouraged the larger engines, it went more slowly. However, it still kept saying, "I--think--I--can, I--think--I--can."

It was announced, to universal chagrin, that the afternoon session had been extended to two and a half hours to compensate for the minutes lost to rain the previous evening. Anyone who thought Freddie and Colly could remain obdurate for that long was clearly still drunk from the night before. The Flinstone, however, looked more assured after the break and his tenacious partner at the crease was becoming ever more resolute. They batted together for almost an hour until Flintoff was dismissed by Johnson for 26, edging to Punter at second slip. We were now six down with four long hours of play still remaining. Desperation had set in. Our next batsman, Boyband, is no rabbit; he started off his career as a batsman and has already got some decent runs and both test and one day level but he offered much mitigated hope. It was unlikely that he could survive for such a lengthy period. Colly seized the inaitive and begun to rotate the strike well, eager to protect Westlife from Aussies as much as possible. This frustrated their bowlers as appeals and chances became less and less frequent.

"The Australians seem to be a little bit irritated at the moment," says Boycott. "I suspect the crowd are just starting to think that there is a chance England could save this game". But the eternal jinx of the commentator rung true and, at 15.47, the Haur struck again LBW and our Blonde bombshell scuttled back to the pavilion. The Aussies needed just three more wickets. Nevertheless, the partnership between Colly and Stu had been a useful one; it had lasted just over an hour and reaching the next session at 16.00 no longer seemed a fanciful target but a realistic one. We couldn't fully entertain the idea of surviving through until 18.30 yet. The Nurdler looked like would simply run out of partners. He reached his 50 with his latest companion, Dr Comfort, at the crease but getting through until tea was not easy for our Swann. He was pelted with bouncers by Sid to the extent that the penultimate over lasted over eight minutes as the physio had to be summoned. Who said cricket was a non violent sport? At 16.10, we had twenty minutes to regroup at last.

EVENING SESSION : MIRACLES DO HAPPEN

"It reached the top by drawing on bravery and then went on down the grade, congratulating itself by saying, "I thought I could, I thought I could."

The evening session was one of those epic sporting exchanges which filters every other concern from your mind. I was so fixated on the amount of time remaining and the number of runs ticking over that I didn't think about anything else. The world outside seemed almost to stop as we blocked and nudged our way closer and closer to stolen parity.

Colly and Marcel emerged from the dressing room without a hint of urgency and set about a two-man rescue mission. It felt like they were the last men standing and our final hope of emerging with something from the match because our next two batsmen are, needless to say, very much tail-enders. The tail had wagged in our first innings but further exploits seemed a flourish too far and, Monty, of course, is a cast iron bunny. Jimmy may be the only batsman yet to record a duck in test cricket but the prospect of him facing the oz attack for some minutes was a terrifying one...

The unfashionable partnership of The Nurdler and The Chin endured for an hour and the knowledge that passing the Aussie total would deduct three overs from the remaining total seeped around the ground and into our living rooms. We were counting down over-by-over now. We had survived the new ball onslaught just after 17.00 and, with 24 overs left and 38 behind, our batsman had racked up a 50 partnership and looked in good stead. But, with just 19 overs of play left, Swann was LBW to Hilfenhaus for 31 and we were 221-8, still some runs behind their lead. As Anderson arrived at the crease, the next wicket seemed set to be the final knell in our noble endurance test. No-one believed the Montster could survive as much as an over. We were willing the Northern lads to nudge and nurdle and grind their way to safety. In short, to persevere...

Disaster seemed to strike with 12 overs to spare when Colly made his first mistake of the day and was caught by the hands of Hussler off the bowling of the Vicious one. The next wicket looked only a matter of time. There were potentially fifty minutes of play remaining, forty if we could edge ahead of their total. Monty arrived to huge cheers and set about blocking his way to personal redemption. Some rather racy running between the wickets and several off key shots ensued. This was "squeaky-bum time". But, The Turbanator and Jimmy, aided and abetted by the physio and our 12th man, excruciatingly contrived to see us through.

It was pandemonium. We had secured a most unlikely draw.

Quote of the Day: The Novice - "Do they wear a codpiece under those whites?"

Ornithological Count : a murmur of sea-gulls on the horizon - the gulls are forgiven too. They are clearly a sign of salvation as opposed to doom.

Barminess Barometer : 85% - the Army were truly imperious once again. 1 huge Hungry Hungry Hippo drinking beer, 1 noble penguin, 3 sombrero sisters, 2 rugger bugger blokes in fluorescent wigs, 1 USA football shirt, 1 yellow wigged welsh Adam Jones alike, several pitch invaders who halted the day's play for some time (geniuses, all), a troupe of super-heroes incl the first Batman of the series, 1 welsh dragon, 2 damsels in expectation of distress clad in floor-length gowns with blonde and fuchsia pink hair respectively, & the return of the miners and the umbrella hatted Aussie (not so ironic, now eh?...).

“It's not over till its over.” There's no better place to end than Yogi Beara's somewhat saccharine, yet immortal line. Yesterday's utterly illogical escape was an emblem of glorious gumption and a two-fingered salute to Reason. The unpredictability of cricket is unique and unparalleled. Here's hoping the next test at Lord's provides half as much drama as Cardiff...

*There will be no further reference to allegations of gamesmanship and a-cricketing-morality.

1st Test : Day Four - England on the precipice of defeat

The seagulls plane and circle out of sight
Below this thirsty, thrift-encrusted height
- John Betjeman, Cornish Cliffs

England - 1st innings : 435 and 2nd innings - 20-2; Australia - 1st innings : 674-6d (day four, stumps)

I awoke this morning somewhat cloudy of head. Having been out the night before, The Bearded Lady had to hammer on my door to alert me that the morning's play was about to begin. I staggered downstairs to observe proceedings, already furious that the heavens were yet to open. This was not the hangover cure I had envisaged. I had hoped to observe some Ashes glories from days of yore as rain pelted down across Cardiff. Instead, I was set to endure the sight of yet more turgid deliveries from our hapless bowlers. Being an England cricket fan is a byword for masochism...

MORNING SESSION: RUNS FLOW AS WEATHER HOLDS OUT

We are now watching for a wicket in a stupor rather than hope, let alone expectation. North and Haddin bat in a business like fashion as we flounder in the field. Careless errors are rampant as we continue to toil. Bumble notes that The Turbanator looks like a "lost soul" but he is not alone in seeming adrift. Our team looks divided, united only in a belief that a break-through is impossible. The camera-man resorts to close-ups of Marcel's split finger (behold... an excuse for his uninspired efforts), yet another new substitute fielder (an Amla doppelganger this time) and first Freddie's toe nails and then his socks (a natty purple, grey and blue striped pair which the commentators concede are rather fetching but are still, alas, just not cricket). The batsmen record a 50 partnership from just 93 balls and later, just before lunch, both achieve individual maiden Ashes milestones - North reaches his century and Haddin his half century. The England team trudge off to the dressing room looking up at the sky as the Aussie players salute their comrades departing majestically from the crease. Brocket, in particular, looks perplexed. Where to go from here?

AFTERNOON SESSION : CLUELESS ENGLAND OUTFOXED BY PUNTER

Needless to say, anticipation had been replaced by resignation and the session begun tepidly. Well, from an England point of view. The Aussie batsmen, playing freely and without fear, upped the run rate and continued to torment our downtrodden bowlers. Gilchrist II reached his own century an hour after lunch and his eyes turned to Ponting. A declaration was in the air. Brad continued to cut loose and was bowled by Collingwood of all people on 122 going for another boundary. Australia on 674-6 now had a lead of 239 and were in a commanding position, if not an unassailable one. Ricky took the bold decision of declaring immediately in light of the dark clouds heading ominously towards the stadium. He clearly wanted half an hour to bowl at our batsmen before tea in the hope of picking up a cheap wicket or two before the rains came.

Strauss and Cook marched to the crease attempting to stave off a characteristic capitulation. Unfortunately, their rear-guard opening stand was almost over before it begun with the Chef LBW to Johnson for just six. It was now left to Brocket and his pup to hold out for thirteen minutes. The atmosphere in the field was intense; the Aussies were alive with ebullience and, despite still needing nine wickets to secure the test, seemed to believe that victory was in their sights. With five minutes left of the session, Bopara was unfairly given out LBW to Hilfenhaus and the Baggy Green troupe were rampant. KP came to the crease and it was almost too much to bear. If Kevin succumbed now, defeat was inevitable. Luckily, he scratched around for five minutes and survived to reach the break alongside the Lord. With rain in the air, they walked off some yards apart, lost in thought. In order to somehow save this test match, the captain and his predecessor must realign...

EVENING SESSION : A WASH OUT ... AT LAST

As the rain lashed down the players didn't emerge after tea and rain induced salvation seemed imminent. Surely enough, at 17.35, play was finally officially called off for the day. We had won a session without facing a ball. After basking in the relief of getting through to a fifth day's play, thoughts turn to tomorrow with trepidation. Batting out 98 overs looks beyond our batsmen. The forecast looks decidedly decent but perhaps the weather gods will pull through. If not, we need a monumental day at the crease. Perhaps this is the moment of redemption that some foresaw for cavalier Kevin...

Quote of the Day: Even the loquacious Eternal Optimist cannot see past an Aussie victory - "We are toast. We are crumbs. We are covered in vegemite!"

Ornithological Count : 1 Sea-gull - an august omen for Australia?...

Barminess Barometer : 90% - at least the Army are compensating for the team's form on the field. 4 Where's Wallys, 7 Spidermen, 1 Black-shirted Man with a puli on his head , 1 Aussie woman with an umbrella style hat (how infuriatingly ironic...), 1 yellow Rooster quiff, 1 man in a pink boa, grey dungarees and a matching grey Star Trek esq hat, 3 bowler hatted, suited and booted dandies carrying old school umbrellas and wearing ... shorts & The Return of the 3 '118' dudes, the 7 Bananas & the 3 Sombrero brothers.

Some say draws in cricket are dull. Getting through tomorrow would be anything but...