Two Rs – like Paul Foot and Paxo rolled into one

Garry Two Rs Richardson on the Today programme this morning, pontificatin’

Two Rs: Oh?  So the unreliable weather is the reason the Indian Premier League isn’t coming to England, is it?  Really?  Hmm?  That’s the reason, is it. eh?  Hmm?  The weather is it?  Is it really?  Or is it something else?  Mmm?  Eh?  What was it really, eh?

Poor Two Rs.  He hadn’t manage to book himself an interviewee to ‘grill’, so he had to do it all himself.

Two Rs.

OPERATION BARBAROSSA: NAZIS ON TOP

Watching Australia take on South Africa with the sound down at work, it struck me that my perspective was much like that of right-wing Americans during World War II, watching on and hoping Nazism and Communism would fight each other to death.

And that got me to thinking: in this test series, who are the Third Reich and who are Stalinist Russia?  My – I should say our – perspective dictates it: we need South Africa to win now, in our hour of need, no matter what we think of them, they’re our enemy’s enemy; we can turn to them later.

Which of course means that it’s Australia who are Nazi Germany.  Which must make Ricky Ponting Hitler.

Hayden would have been Goering.

Bloody typical

What a complete farce most of this series has been. None of these pitches were designed to give a result. We could have carried on playing the fourth (should have been third) test until their flights home without any hope of a result. What a joke. The ICC just have no control over this game whatsoever. There will end up being a backlash and instead you will get a series of bumpy, cracked pitches which see whole test matches being done and dusted in two days for a combined score of 250 for four innings.

The Collective recently received a mailing from Lords containing an advert for the next round of the Stanford Super Series. I think that says everything about the priorities of our once great game at the moment.

Joke.

BAD OMEN FOR KEY RETURN

I was distraught to learn today that Samit Patel had been de-selected for the England one-day squad for the West Indies, on account of not being fit enough.  Not so much for Samit Patel’s sake – although I do feel for him, it’s quite a humiliation, and he must be pissed off as can be.  No, I’m worried that this is slamming yet another door in Rob Key’s round face.  I can say round face ‘cos Graham Fowler said that of him in the press recently, and he too meant it with affection.  Rob Key would be in the England side, he said, but his face doesn’t fit.  Nor the rest of him.  Through the door.  Dammit, did Pakistan give a shite that Inzamam-ul-Haq could barely manage a single?  Let Jimmy Anderson run around.  We need our best players in the team.

If anyone can find a story to match, I’ve got a great headline in the wings: “BAN KEY MOON”.

STANFORD: RICHARDSON TO BLAME (AND I DON’T MEAN RICHIE)

It’s now been confirmed that Sir Allen Stanford is Cricket’s Own Antichrist.  Given his penchant for helicopters and delusions of grandeur he resembles a kind of Texan Noel Edmonds.  As I say, a version of Antichrist. Only his stunts haven’t actually killed anyone. But I digress. (Incidentally, is it just me, or does Sir Allen resemble a character off Magnum PI? You can just see Tom Selleck trying to ferret hin out from hiding, can’t you?)

But while Sir Allen has now been identified as Cricketing Antichrist, the press are all at sea in trying to throw mud at who’s really at fault.  They keep sniffing round Giles Clarke, saying it’s his fault.  But that ain’t it.

No, think back to the first time that anyone had heard of him. It was about this time last year, on the Today programme on Radio 4. Morning after morning, Garry (With Two Rs) Richardson kept banging on about Sir Allen Stanford. Sir Allen Stanford! He’s a Texan millionaire, and he wants to put on a big match worth millions of quid! Sir Allen Stanford! We’ve got an exclusive interview with Sir Allen Stanford! Never mind it was the Champions League Final last night, we’ve just got another press release off Sir Allen Stanford! Fuck Wimbledon and the Grand National. Fuck the Lord’s Test. We’ve – got – a – press – release – off – Sir – Allen – Stanford! He’s a millionaire! From Texas! Sir Allen Stanford! Texas! And he wants to stage a cricket match!!!

It’s Garry (With Two Rs) Richardson that’s to blame.  He gave Sir Allen his start. Gave him millions of free publicity, and virtually bounced the ECB into it.

Two Rs.

Bigger than a house

The great Colombian “sweeper-keeper” Rene Higuita described the error he made in the 1994 World Cup, fannying about outside the box and allowing Roger Milla to disposess him and score the winning goal for Cameroon, as a “big mistake … As big as a house.”

I recalled this remark in the wake of England’s sensational batting job the other day.  It led me to ask: How big is the mess England are in now?

I’ve meditated long and hard… But now have the answer.

How big is the mess England are in?

Bigger than a house.

Bigger than the Great Wall of China.

Bigger than an area the size of Wales.

Bigger than Kevin Pieterson’s ego.

As big as Rob Key’s underpants.

That’s big.

Waiting for the text

New news on the Newquay Browns front.

The Newquay Browns will be playing England in a 20/20 fixture on Wandsworth Common this summer. Following Saturday’s defeat to the West Indies, an approach was made on the basis that we’re both a bunch of rubbish amateurs.

Now the Fixtures Secretary is just waiting for Giles Clarke to return his text before we can go public with the date and start selling tickets.

We’re all very excited at the opportunity for the first ever Newquay Browns victory.

A poignant moment

Yesterday, just as the players were coming off for tea, Aggers was about to read out the score when the scoreboard went blank. He just had to say, sorry, he couldn’t tell us.  There was suddenly a gaping hole there where Bill Frindall used to be.

An Aussie fan has already had enough…

From our man undercover down under

Terrible news

Terrible, sad news is coming in that Bill Frindall has died. More in due course.

The Collective is in mourning.