“The signs so far do not indicate the comprehensive break with Starmer’s neoliberalism, imperialism and authoritarianism which is required, and indeed which Burnham promised.”

On Holborn & St Pancras, via Morning Star

“In one last U-turn for the lads, Keir Starmer announced he was stepping down as an MP on Tuesday – convenient timing after he’d just enjoyed nearly seven weeks of paid summer recess. Yes, the man who loved banging on about “public service” decided it was the “right time” to sack off the chore of representing the good people of Holborn and St Pancras.”

Via Novara

Mobile Phone Use While Driving Is Even Worse Than We Thought

To the Oval! …on Wednesday morning for one final jolly of the summer. It was day one of a Championship match for Surrey against Yorkshire - aka how the fuck dis this once proud club go from being a three consecutive Championship winning team to becoming relegation fodder?

The train journey in was, as ever, entertaining. For some reason this season has been scheduled so that when we depart the Weird Wiv Cricket Fun train we are joined by a load of good owd Essex boys on route to watch the Essex Slappers over in Chelmsford.

“Hey, I’m going a little bit further than you.”

Oh the BANTZ we had.

Destination Chelmsford was reached. The good owd Essex boys buggered off to watch the Slappers. I sat back and thought, yep, I’ve got the better deal in heading down to SE11 for the more superior Surrey experience.

Just don’t mention the Surrey Strut, right?

We walked up at The Oval just as play was about to start. It was raining.

Arse.

The transpontine skies up above didn’t look too promising, so what to do with a spare hour when back down in South London?

The first job of the day was to pick up another Surrey Yearbook. I think they’re running on short supplies here. EBay in the morning, etc.

I then surprised my cricketing partner by having a bit of a detour into the Surrey store. I remember years gone by when the Surrey store was but a broom cupboard bolted on to the Members' entrance in the Pavilion. It was where you would buy cricket balls, bats if you could afford them, and even a box if you were feeling brave.

But not so these days. Like everything in the modern sporting world, the Surrey store is of course now a MEGA store - and it bloody is mega in terms of space, not to mention the prices.

My cricketing partner had her eye on a Surrey ice hockey top. Yep I know such a thing really shouldn’t exist. Surrey are also flogging this Surrey Football Club tops. They actually say Surrey Football Club on them.

But the Surrey ice hockey top seemed to appeal to my cricketing partner. Being the kind companion that I am, I snaffled it up as an early birthday present for her. Lucky girl.

We poked our head out around the old ground, looked up above and thought BALLS to this. there’s going to be no play at least until the afternoon session.

A lunchtime of art was then on the agenda. We made our way over to Newport Street Gallery. On route we passed Andy’s wonderful DIY garden pop-up that has been on the corner of Newport Street for the best part of a decade. Sadly the old boy is closing down. I felt a little tearful knowing that another part of old South London is soon to disappear.

A little time was spent at Newport Street with the Jack White exhibition. We then continued our short little journey onto Lambeth Palace Library for another exhibition before winding our way back down Lambeth walk and towards The Oval.

OI!

A very quick scroll of X and yep, the game was back in play. We’d actually missed the first five overs. We had also missed the first three wickets. A very poor Yorkshire team were struggling on 1-3 at one stage.

We wasted no more time and took up the nearest seats in the old OCS. Surrey were clearly getting a shifty on out on the field. You could tell the players knew that possible rain was expected. They weren’t hanging around, racing to change ends after each over. Every ball was more or less appealed for.

It was delightful to clock dear old Jack Russell sitting a few rows in front of us with his canvas and pallet. Can you tell what it is yet?

It then became a little slow going out in the middle. I confess to dozing off for 15 minutes or so. I was soon awoken by the loud guttural roar of Lobby, who was sitting on the other side of the OCS. Some things never change.

It was soon time for the tea interval. We had a brief stroll out the middle. It was good to catch up with F and his young son.

We retreated to the Peter May to try and cancel out the wind trap that was now rattling around The Oval.

I spent most of the evening session focusing on Foakes behind the stumps. Good gosh he is so athletic. An England recall could be a possibility over the winter months.

The wickets kept on falling for Yorkshire. Up stepped Bairstow and then so did the rain. It was only some slight drizzle. For once the Umps showed some common sense and kept the players out there.

This became a slow scoring affair for Yorkshire. I messed around putting on a poncey wind jacket and somehow missed another wicket.

Our conversation then turned towards how utterly naff the new Yorkshire logo is. We actually asked a friendly AI bot if it had been designed by a school kid as part of a local competition. Yep it looked that shit. Apparently it’s part of a professional rebranding which brings all elements of the club together. Yeah right…

Out in the middle and Wharton finally fell for 45. He was Yorkshire’s last hope.

Some dark skies descended over SE11 shortly around 6pm. The Umps took them off for bad light. We managed to see over four hours of play, not bad for what could have been a washout of a day.

To Wivenhoe Town Cricket Club! …mid-afternoon on Sunday.

For some reason the Wivenhoe Town Cricket Club website has stopped displaying future fixtures. But if it’s a Sunday then chances are there is a game taking down at Rectory Road.

We rocked up to find an empty wicket but the scoreboard showing 220. It was the interval in what looked like either a 30 or 35 over match. Players from both teams were already tucking in to the Sunday spread as we took up our boundary seats.

The outfield was looking much improved after a weekend of on-off rain showers. I wouldn’t say it was the lush green that we see back down in SE11; it was more weeds starting to poke through amongst the rock hard surface.

Speaking of rain - we sat down and then it started to piss it down for five minutes or so. The covers didn’t come on. The players did come out however, gave it a quick look and decided to carry on with the 2nd innings. This is village cricket after all.

I still had no idea who the chuff Wivenhoe were playing. This was a question which carried on all the way throughout the game, into the evening and even the following morning.

The away team however were keen to start their bowling comeback, leaning heavily on spin and pretty much every outfield player in the slips. Boundaries were there to be taken if Wivenhoe wanted them.

The first over was complete village comedy. It was absolute chaos out there with people running, diving and falling over.

Spin worked in the second over, with one of the Wivenhoe openers clean bowled for three. An early catch was then put down.

I was sent to the bar and missed the next wicket.

Every ball seemed to lead to some comedy action. Thank fuck for boxes as one poor fella at the wicket took an absolute belter in the balls. His team mates laughed from the sideline.

SHOUT OUT to the away team fielder in his bucket hat, who seemed to be vaping at silly mid on for the entire game.

It was at this stage that I dozed off. The sun was out once again and we had a half- decent place in a sun trap, looking out across the wicket.

Some wind then woke me up and I could see that Wivenhoe were on 94 for four. We decided to make a strategic move over to the scoreboard end. This offers some shelter from the wind.

The game from here onwards then got even more chaotic and incredibly confusing. It appeared as though Wivenhoe had a runner with another batsman standing at square, except he wasn’t running each time a run was taken. How very odd.

It turned out the runner was one of the umpires. He was all padded up and carrying a bat. I then clocked that this was some kind of rotation system where the runner/umpire was simply the next batsman coming in who was carrying out some umpire duties.

The main uncertainty for the afternoon then happened when Wivenhoe were most deff on seven wickets down. Another wicket fell and all of a sudden they were five down. What the chuff is all about? The space-time continuum was being ignored as Wivenhoe were actually travelling backwards with the scoreboard.

Up stepped another umpire/runner, this time carrying a beer. This, I think, was something of a theme for the afternoon. The vaping bucket hat dude kept on sparking up.

This was a truly bizarre game. The scoreboard said that Wivenhoe were around 50 runs short with one ball remaining. The batter at the crease slogged it and attempted a run. He fell over. I suspect alcohol was involved. Somehow the ball went all the way to the boundary.

The scoreboard then said Wivenhoe had won. We both scratched our heads, looked at each other, and concluded isn’t village cricket a truly wonderful and bonkers game?

To Rectory Road! …mid-Sunday afternoon. Wivenhoe Town Cricket Club Sunday XI were hosting their counterparts from nearby Ardleigh.

I rocked up, of course, fashionably late. I arrived as tea was being taken, with Wivenhoe about to chase down what looked like an achievable 208 set by the visitors.

What I love about cricket at this level is that no questions are asked. So what if I entered the hallowed ground carrying a compost bucket whilst I was wearing a pair of cycling tights?

The compost was part of a trip later in the day around the corner to the allotment. The cycling tights were just me being a lazy arse and not being bothered to change from my earlier spoiting exploits.

Out came Wivenhoe to chase down the 208. They opened with a couple of young guns with some early boundaries to steady the nerves.

Looking around the ground and the pitch is slowly, slowly starting to green once again. The majority of the ground still resembles something of a straw field and it’s not the type of surface you want to go sliding along to stop boundaries.

It was that time in the afternoon when I dozed off. It’s an age thing, innit. I missed the first two wickets for Ardleigh as the openers fell. The cheers on the outfield stirred me but weren’t sufficient to gain my attention.

What did get me livened up however was bring your own barbecue. An extended family nearby were sparking up under what must be said was very safe and well-managed conditions.

TUCK IN.

A big dark cloud then blew over the ground. Conditions became a little dark. One of the Wivenhoe batters was clean bowled.

The wind picked up. The vaping ump out in the middle left a trailing fume, which was now mixing in with the barbecue.

Ardleigh looked frustrated. They turned to spin. This was the most delicate of spin actions with a fella out in the middle having a very tidy skip just before he released the ball.

It was at this time that the barbecue was now in full swing. It felt a little rude to be sitting so nearby and intruding on the family fun. I opted for a boundary walk.

It was with good timing with my cricket companion rocking up with some homemade peanut butter cookies.

We decided on sitting on a bench at the other end of the ground. It was getting a little tight for Wivenhoe, with the win earlier seeming like a formality. The hoe team now had a sweaty palms with the home team on 174-6 chasing down that 208.

It was rather glorious to be honest in the late Sunday afternoon sun. We had found a sun trap at the far end of the ground and took it all in.

The game progressed at quite a pace. Wivenhoe all of a sudden found themselves in a spot of bother with 12 runs needed to win and no wickets remaining in the hutch.

A tactical game then broke out. It was clear that Wivenhoe only had one realistic batter out there who could achieve the run chase. Ardleigh knew this and set their field accordingly depending on who was on strike.

Wivenhoe turned down a single which could have tied the match. The very next ball and the poor chap was caught from behind. Ardleigh were joyous. This was a cracking game of cricket with the away team winning by one run.

To the Oval! …on Thursday morning for day one of Surrey vs Notts in the County Championship. This game was also deemed the Festival of Red Bull cricket by the club, which basically means a glorified beer festival, along with a cricket car boot sale taking place around the back of the Peter May. I passed on both fronts.

The more interesting action was taking place out in the middle. This was a make or break game for both teams. Surrey have been poor all season. You don’t fight for championships by simply drawing matches.

The narrative from afar has been that Notts have been dominant. My cricketing companion for the day was a Notts fan. It was interesting to hear his perspective, which was rather similar to the Surrey story of 2026. Notts are still within a chance of the title only through drawing matches and picking up bonus points.

ChatGPT had reliably - or perhaps not so reliably - informed me the night before that a late title charge by Surrey is still possible but to achieve that a comprehensive win over Notts was needed. Anything less and we couldn’t be back looking behind our own backsides and staring relegation in the face.

There’s nothing quite like the County Championship, which is just as well, seeing as all the horrid Hundred, crappy banners had been taken down. It was good to see The Oval back in its pretty much purified form, with none of the franchise crap littering around the grand old place.

I approached this game in a rather sober state. I also ended in a rather sober state. I’ve had one too many days out on the piss in the Peter May already so far this season.

My sobriety was made all the better when I was rewarded with some early wickets. The grounds team had prepared a lush green wicket. This was a game for the seamers and no spin it to win in sight.

The weather was always going to have a say in this game. The forecast looked a little dodgy for the first day of play but then set to pick up as we enter the weekend.

No surprises to see an hour or so into the start of the play and the floodlights came on, followed by the inevitable rain. This was a shame as Surrey had picked up the early momentum and looked like doing some serious damage to the Notts weakened attack ahead of the lunch break.

And then whaddyaknow? Lunch was taken in bright sunshine; out came the players briefly for the afternoon session before buggering off back into the hutch as the rain started again. Cricket sometimes does itself no favours.

We had by now shifted from the Peter May over to the Bedsar, which is also known as the No Fun Stand. There’s no official alcohol ban and there’s no official stance on limited conversation, but fuck me - it’s like a bloody morgue up in there.

Not a lot happened when play resumed. This was a very, very cagey period for both teams. Surrey sensed more wickets. Notts were just happy to block, block and then block again.

The highlight for the mid-afternoon session was the skipper taking off his cricketing sun hat to reveal a pretty much shaven head. It was quite a statement from Rory and one hopes one that is not aligned with the Samson and Delilah storyline.

We ended up back where we started for the afternoon session in the Peter May. Dark clouds descended once again over SE11 as Surrey tried to take out the Notts attack within the first day. It got a little bit windy. We made a strategic move down to the lower tier of the Pavilion.

A pleasant half-hour passage of play followed and then the Umps looked at the dark skies and called time out once again.

We retreated to the Surrey store to have a good piss take at some of the Hundred merchandise. There was a rather fetching black Surrey sweatshirt that was new to the range. This was priced competitively at £60. I think the pricing of £40 for a similar MI London piece of tat tells you all you need to know about the price for everything when it comes towards the stupid shitty franchise.

We called time on our pleasant day out and headed out on a brief stroll around our old sunny Stockwell patch.

Later back at base we realised we had missed another half hour of play where Notts annoyingly added on some more runs to reach a total of 184 for the day whilst Surrey lost an early wicket with the Vicar.

Sober Surrey days out at the cricket are decent fun. Who knew?

Chin chin.

To Rectory Road! …late on Sunday afternoon. Wivenhoe Town Cricket Club were hosting Sudbury in a T30 hit ‘n’ giggle.

Thirty overs is a half-decent format for any competition. Just don’t go telling the ECB. They will invent half a dozen new franchises and sell out the game even further.

It was an odd hybrid of the game. We were playing with a pink ball and luminous wickets, yet both sets of players looked resplendent in their whites.

Other commitments kept me away from the Sudbury innings. They had set a competitive chase of 155 for the home team.

Once again it became clear that this was a mixture of incredibly young players backed up by some older wiser heads. SHOUT OUT in particular to the Sudbury young kid fielding on the boundary. He’s probably back at primary school in a few weeks. He didn’t let himself down, both fielding as well as then turning his arm with some decent spin on offer.

An early drop was a close reprieve for Wivenhoe. I then missed a wicket as I was too busy scrolling on Forest updates and the emotional farewell for Big Taiwo.

Sudbury had an interesting selection of bowlers. One young chap in particular had the shortest of short runs that I’ve ever seen in the game. This seemed to fool the Wivenhoe batters with a well taken catch after a failed sweep shot.

Similar to the other formats at this level, there seems to be much more focus on spin rather than pace. It makes it easier on the eye to try and follow the game.

Another catch followed and early drinks were taken. Wivenhoe were now on 80 for 4 chasing down that 155.

I confess to dozing off as more wickets fell. Each polite applause from the Pavilion was my wake up call to have a bit of a check on the scoreboard.

I could see that with seven overs remaining Wivenhoe needed 36 runs with three wickets in hand. They had timed their run chase to perfection.

It was a little squeaky bum time for the very young kids out in the middle for Wivenhoe. A well-placed boundary was a fitting way for the home team to take the victory.

Another bloody decent afternoon down at Rectory Road.

All aboard the Essex Fun Train on Tuesday morning. We were bound for The Oval, and a key match for Surrey in the Metro Bank as they had a head-to-head shootout with Notts to see who would qualify for the next stage of the competition. ho

But wait! What’s this? Half the carriage on the Essex Fun Train wasn’t wearing the proud three feathers of the ‘rrey, but instead those rather intimidating three blades that make up the Essex badge.

Oh I see. The Essex slappers also at home at Chelmsford. Best to keep my mouth shut for the train journey until all the good owd Essex boys had departed half an hour or so later. I think I had the better half of the deal for the day out.

I actually dozed off in between Chelmsford and Stratford. I thought I would get the forty winks in whilst I could ahead of what could possibly be a challenging day on the field - and on the piss - in the Peter May.

But first, how about something a little more sedate? I’m all for breaking routines and trying new things. And so instead of making a beeline to Peter May we instead chose the rather tranquil atmosphere of the Bedsar. Blimey.

It must be over 15 years since I’ve last sat here. We always view it on the other side of the ground, as the absolutely no-fun old boy duffers stand. There’s usually around five people in there at max. The South London sun trap that is the Oval somehow manages to cast a heavy shadow over the Bedsar.

It was all very relaxed in there, with what seemed like the Bedsar being boosted by fellow shade seekers. A cursory glance around however, and we realised that it was also BOOZE free.

Oh dear.

The calculations for the final round of group matches in the Peter May required a GCSE in mathematics to understand the different permutations throughout the day. Put simply, Surrey had to win in order to progress.

The selection of J-Roy for his first List A match in seven years seemed to prove the point. The Surrey coaches knew that at least a couple of players needed to ramp up pressure on the scoreboard.

It was also interesting to see Worrall back at his County after playing for his horrid 100 franchise shitty team the night before.

Surrey started incredibly strongly with The Vicar and Patel at the crease. Unlike the fuck up away at Somerset on Friday, the skipper had learnt that when you win a toss in this competition, you bat first and put the bowling team under pressure.

Young Ahmed for Notts was struggling at first with his spin. Rhino twatted him for a glorious six ahead of making a superb Oval century. I bloody love a bit of Rhino. He’s perhaps just lacking a little to step up for the Championship, but he’s a bloody good player for list A games.

Sadly he fell a few balls later on a fine 102.

Cometh the hour, cometh the man. You could visibly feel and hear the nerves around the old ground. Now would not be a good time for J-Roy to fuck things up.

Two runs later and he was back in the hutch. See you again in seven years J-Roy.

The skipper fared little better. We actually missed his incredibly short time at the crease as we got bored with the no fun Bedsar and headed back round to go on the piss with the Peter May boys.

Walking around the back corridors of the Oval was interesting. It’s here where the multi-faith room is located. There is also what Surrey call a chill room. I felt slightly triggered by what I had just seen from J-Roy and contemplated a little personal time out myself.

I remarked to my cricketing companions, once we had repositioned ourselves back in the Peter May, that it was down to The Vicar to really put the pressure on Notts. He was out next ball, natch.

Young Ahmed had now found his stride for Notts. We still found his Haka style positioning ahead of his run up slightly comical.

Also doing it for the kids was young Thomas and Sykes for Surrey. They put on a decent partnership together but it still didn’t look enough runs on the board for what was to come.

The interval came. Surrey finished on 296. I took this as an opportunity to do a little more exploration on such a fine sunshine Transpontine day. I headed up to my fave place in the entire ground on the top tier of the SSE.

Who needs a chill room when you have such a splendid location in which to take in all of South London? SHOUT OUT to the yoga dude who had found his own personal chill space on some of the top tier astroturf and was going through his stretches.

This seemed like a pretty much even game ahead of the restart. What was clear was that Notts needed a decent partnership to match what The Vicar and Patel had put together for Surrey.

What was needed from me was a more mature approach to my drinking. The lesson learnt from today was don’t buy cheapo BOOZE from Home Bargains that tastes like piss.

The rest of the afternoon disappeared in something of a haze. My one memory was mistaking a very strange-looking yellow pigeon for a South London parakeet. At this stage of the afternoon Surrey were very much a dead parrot in cricketing terms.

The game came to a very abrupt end when Notts piled on the pressure with some ease and pretty much batted out a T20 innings to get them over the line.

To Wivenhoe Town Cricket Club! …on a very hot and sticky Estuary Wilds Sunday afternoon. Wivenhoe were hosting Abberton as part of the Sunday social match.

These very same two teams paired off on pretty much the same wicket 24 hours earlier. Same as it ever was etc. There IS life in Essex Village cricket beyond both Wivenhoe and Abberton. I think.

What I’ve really enjoyed about watching Wivenhoe this summer is the belief and trust placed in youth. We’re not talking teenagers here but really young kids, possibly eleven or twelve upwards.

This was the case for the first session of umpiring. The two umpires looked as though they were about to make the transition from primary to secondary school. They did a mighty fine job in holding the game together.

The wicket itself caused a few problems. It was as far as possible to the left of the square and away from the pavilion. The best vantage point would have been right in my sweet corn patch over in the allotment.

We opted instead, along with the rest of the growing crowd of Sunday social spectators, to sit close to the pavilion. It is always best to be within walking distance of the bar.

Chin chin.

When we arrived, ever so slightly fashionably late, Wivenhoe were toiling away in the field. Abberton were already on 106 for 1 after 19 overs.

We’re starting now to be on head nodding and even hello terms with some of the Wivenhoe players. We’ve also got a couple of faves. One of these is the hop, skip and jump Wivenhoe spin bowler, who was looking half decent once again this afternoon.

The only downer for me was that I was sitting around some dog shit. I didn’t realise this at first. A wicket fell and I missed it. I had dog shit on my mind.

This was a hot afternoon where responsibilities needed to be shared. The call went out from the pavilion for a new scorer. I half fancied my chances but I struggle with basic arithmetic at the best of times. If in doubt make it up.

Something else we have noticed from this rather marvellous level of village cricket is that there is more spin than pace. Wivenhoe had three genuine spin bowlers who were turning the ball with some ease. Take note Surrey.

Abberton were putting on something of a run chase. A couple of consecutive big boundaries did some scoreboard damage. One of the balls came very close to me in my dog shit patch. I got to live out my village cricket dreams by returning the ball. I just about managed to throw it 10 m or so.

The Estuary Wilds' heat was unforgiving. We had to do a strategic shifting of the picnic bench to take under more cover.

Meanwhile there was some impressive pace coming from the Wivenhoe ginger kid, who was having to bowl up the hill.

The youth theme continued when out from the hutch strolled out Abberton’s new batter, who must have still been at primary school. His partner out in the middle was slightly more rotund. It was like watching Little and Large at the crease together.

The young kid managed one run and was then caught. I think everyone watching by the boundary was just pleased to see that he didn’t walk after his first ball. This left Abberton with an impressive 205 for eight after 40 overs.

A brief turn around and after some sausage rolls were necked in the pavilion, and it was then time for Abberton to take to the field. I was surprised to see the young kid had been entrusted to keep wicket for the visitors. Once again he didn’t let his more mature teammates down.

The Wivenhoe opener was caught very cheaply in the first over. Oh dear.

Meanwhile a leather boy rocked up with his motorbike behind the bowler’s arm. A slight delay took place. You don’t see this very often at Lords.

It was at this stage in the afternoon that I dozed off. The fall of another wicket woke me up.

Abberton were very vocal in the field. SHOUT OUT to one of their players who put in an impressive sprint in a chase with the ball towards the boundary, and then an even more impressive dive on what is a rock hard surface. Good effort fella.

Wivenhoe were chasing the game. Meanwhile back at base I was keen to catch the second half of Mansfield Town against Sheffield United. I made my excuses and wandered off.

Another decent afternoon out at Rectory Road.

To Wivenhoe Town Cricket Club! …on Saturday afternoon. One week it’s the La-de-da lifestyle down at The Oval, and then the next it’s back to the parched barren patch that wouldn’t look out of place as a burnt-off straw field from a farmer.

Actually that’s a little unfair on the ground staff at Wivenhoe. The wickets have somehow managed to maintain their greenness. It’s just that the outfield resembles grated cheddar.

We rocked up fashionably late as ever. We weren’t alone. We’ve learned over recent months that the real action begins around 3 pm when the socialites start to arrive at Rectory Road.

Abberton with the opposition for the second eleven this afternoon. A quick squint at the scoreboard and we could see that the visitors were on 123 for three. A running debate throughout the afternoon was how many overs are played in this format.

Having taken up a position in the sun as a hard bastard, my guard was let drop less than ten minutes later as I retreated to the shade. Phew! What a scorcher! etc.

The wicket was on the other side of the ground. There was quite a large gap between our seats and the boundary rope closest to us. I still managed to have a front row seat for a stunning catch by one of the Wivenhoe fielders.

Some big hitting followed from Abberton. I couldn’t work out if this was a decent batting performance or equally a decent bowling performance, as Wivenhoe seemed to match them with wickets falling.

The opportunity of a lost ball over in the allotment end led to early drinks being taken. There was also a change of Umpires. Like I said it was bloody hot work out there.

We had a good chance at the drinks break to see who was playing for the second eleven. There were a couple of very, very young kids holding their own in the side. These could possibly have been twins.

It was disappointing to hear some of the other banter around on the boundary being all about football. It was even more disappointing that it was bloody West Ham.

The wickets started to fall at a rapid pace after the drinks break. One Abberton player in particular stormed back in anger to the pavilion.

Abberton reached Gawd knows what, with 44 overs on board. It might have been around 251. This still didn’t settle the question about how many overs were being played. They either just fell short of their 45 allotted overs, or were back in the hutch early if it was 50. I suspect the former.

I had a bar trip at the break. I was able to see the tempting teas on offer for the players. The spread looked amazing. It would probably be worth playing cricket for the afternoon teas alone.

A brief turnaround and out came Abberton to the field. It was excessive seeing some of their pace bowlers with the white war paint on.

The two Wivenhoe openers were slow and steady with their response. The aim appeared to be to keep the partnership and then accelerate the run as the overs continued.

Back at base I had set my telly to record the crappy MI London match in the horrid Hundred. I was almost half relieved when some kid sitting next to me scrolled his phone and shouted out the score. That will save a job of catching up with that crap later.

With around ten overs bowled by Abberton, sadly I had to make my excuses and head home for some work. Another decent afternoon watching some proper cricket.

To the Oval! …on Wednesday morning it was a bit of a weird one catching my old work commute train. It was the same old familiar faces going in for the long slog. No ta, thank you very much.

Surrey had a home Metro Bank cup match against their traditional rivals Kent. I say traditional rivals, no one really gives a stuff about that apart from Kent. For us it’s all about the action over on the other side of the river.

Having said that, there was plenty at stake to play for in this game. Surrey are, for once, making something of a half-decent attempt to impress in the development competition. We’re probably just a couple of wins away from qualifying for the quarters.

The school holidays, the decent South London weather, and the meaningful fixture led to a very decent crowd. The queues were 20 deep just ahead of the start of play at 11:00 AM.

Also just ahead of the start of play at 11:00 AM was some bloody rain. Blimey. Fancy that. It didn’t last for long but it did delay the start by 10 minutes or so.

I took up my position on the piss in the Peter May. I used the spare time as an opportunity to have a look around the old ground. It was stuffed full of the shitty Hundred branding. It almost felt as though Surrey were squatting at a stupid franchise club.

There was plenty of lush green grass out there, however. It was rather pleasing seeing such a vast expanse of greenness in a summer where everything has been reduced to yellow stubble.

We opened the batting with the Vicar and Patel dominating in the early exchanges. SHOY OUT to the young kid wearing a traditional Surrey top and not some Mumbai Indians shit.

I had to take a second look as some fella rocked up to sit close beside me. I thought it was Gus Atkinson. He was on the piss, natch. A closer inspection and it revealed a younger Gus look-alike.

Kent were finding it tough out there with a ball. They turned early to spin with Matt Parkinson also failing to break through.

This was the signal for Patel to go on the charge. He delivered some glorious boundary shots. Sign him up for the Hundred! Ha bloody ha.

He pushed his luck a little too far however and was caught on 73. Sibley then reached his half century but was caught behind.

Up stepped the skipper to the crease. Rory was clearly on one. He’s had a very disappointing Championship season to date. This is a real chance to prove that he is still a leader and still a leading batsman. Talk of his demise had been exaggerated.

Having said that he too found himself back in the hutch after playing a cheap shot for 33.

You know what happens now in a Crap Match Report: the BOOZE kicks in and everything falls apart. True to form…

The beer situation was a little troubling; having transported six bottles of cheapo Lidl lager from the bloody Estuary Wilds all the way back down to South London, I was determined to neck them.

Chin chin.

I took one sip and felt something a little raw and chewy in my mouth. Surely this can’t be a hop?

I delicately put my finger over my mouth to see what it was. It was bird shit. Oh dear. Those bloody Oval pigeons had somehow managed to carry out something of a bird shit bombing mission right inside my pint of cheapo Lidl lager.

I did try and keep track as to who was coming and going at the crease for Surrey. Last man standing was Dan Worrall. “He can bat,” I told my cricketing partner. It turns out Dan Worrall can’t bat - or not today anyway. Surrey were all out for 286.

The interval came and went. Some more randoms started to rock up to sit around us, adding to the sizeable 7,000 or so crowd.

It looked like I had the ghost of George Michael sitting right in front of me. He certainly had the hair, albeit greying. The very tight white sports shorts and socks were also present. I didn’t have the courage to look down for the badminton shuttlecock.

I got a little tired and emotional at this stage. I dozed off. A blast from Lobby, sitting behind me in the Peter May, soon woke me up. It’s these reassuring old Surrey voices that hold it all together for me. I’ve had to endure almost three decades of Lobby banging on. We’ll miss him when he’s gone.

Kent really struggled. Surrey completely strangulated them with all aspects of their bowling. It was fitting that there was a stunning catch on the boundary to seal the win.

And so our march in the Metro Bank carries on. We may just qualify for the quarters. We may just even go all the way.

The crappy ECB scheduling however means that there is a five-week gap between the semi-final and the final.

Blame the Hundred, in fact blame the Hundred for absolutely fucking everything.