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And so on to The Oval on a steaming hot South London evening as Surrey welcomed Sussex to SE11 for another game in the Hot and Giggle.

Actually that’s not quite true. There was no way I was going to sweat my arse off back down in Transpontonia with the temperature lingering close to 34 degrees at 7 pm. I think I had the better deal sitting on the settee with five cold beers in the fridge.

Chin chin.

After the debacle in the Blast away at Bristol last week, Surrey somehow still found themselves second in the group table, but with something of a rebuilding job needed to do to carry the T20 momentum forward.

he team news saw Jordan Clarke come in for young Majid. I felt sorry for the academy youngster. He’s done little wrong in his few appearances. It just seems that the current Surrey hierarchy doesn’t like spin.

The great tattooed warrior Clarke is a more than capable replacement, but you do feel that the longer the season goes on, both in white and red ball, then we need to rethink our spinning options.

Right on cue Clarke took the wicket of Hughes for 9. Well done you.

Come the end of the Sussex power play Surrey were in need of a breakthrough. The away team were getting away on 64 for one.

Up stepped CJ to do the business. Thomas then continued the acceleration for Sussex, hitting his half Century after 23 deliveries. The scoreboard pressure looked as intimidating as the sweat box that is The Oval.

Meanwhile, In Kit News: there was a slight variation on the dodgy kit we saw away in Bristol last week. Back then J-Roy had forgotten his own Surrey top and had to wear a kit with the legend of Dan Lawrence on the back.

The wardrobe malfunction for this evening was the Sussex player Thomas wearing a very crumpled top that he had clearly washed in too high a temperature.

J-Roy saw him off with a catch over on the boundary. That position is pretty much J-Roy’s own. I’ve seen him fielding there and playing to the old OCS stand throughout the past 15 years. We’ll miss him when he’s gone.

Elsewhere CJ looked angry in the field over something that was never quite explained. He did manage to channel this anger, taking the wicket of Coles, who was caught behind.

I felt sorry for young Tear on his Sussex debut but I didn’t shed any tears when the golden arm from Lawes saw him off for one. Price also followed for one with some CJ bowling, caught by Lawrence as Surrey started to take control.

Are you ready for the BOOZE blackout just yet? You know how these Crap Match Reports work.

I was relatively coherent to see the start of the Surrey innings. I could certainly decipher that Laurie Evans is well past his sell-by date, heading back to the hutch after only 10.

Cometh the hour, cometh the man. J-Roy stepped up with a fine 50. He was backed by the Aussie Philippe, who is making a rapid impression in his early T20 matches. He departed after making a cheap ramp shot, but his 31 kept the scoreboard ticking over.

A boundary from J-Roy brought up his hundred and was a fine way to win the game for Surrey.

I can’t stand all the franchise bollocks that comes with the modern game. But if we can keep J-Roy in this type of T20 peak performance for a couple more summers then he is free to go globe-trotting to earn his dosh.

To the tattoo studio!… on Wednesday morning. Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. Yep, two consecutive days of being inked up with a big bad boy of a tattoo needle.

Live the dream, Jase. Live the dream.

The first task today was to complete the outer ring of my knee. I was told this could be a little delicate as there was some slight swelling from the ink action the day before. Piss easy mate. Piss easy.

Some rather deep conversations followed between myself and my ace tattoo man. He most definitely has sussed me out, knowing that keeping me engaged distracts from the pain.

On the big telly screen was non-stop Japanese food preparation via YouTube throughout the day. I wasn’t expecting this. It’s always good to get a different perspective of things you would never normally watch. Apparently it’s a genre all of its own that is increasingly popular with the Bright Young Things.

Basically it’s a tour of local Japanese villages and towns, dropping in at their local patisseries. It was shown how the fine art of preparing Japanese bread and pastry takes place.

At the other end of the cultural scale was a rather cool Americana playlist throughout the studio. Tom Petty in particular raised a smile and managed to distract me from the scratching away of the big bad boy needle.

Once the outer ring of the knee was finished, the next task was to add a drop shadow to join up the work from yesterday and today. This is where the magic numbing spray came out. I was then wrapped up in cling film like a 20th Century Mummy to help speed up the tattoo anaesthetic process.

The actual drop shadow inking was pretty painless. It looks the bollocks in the way that it links two very tricky parts of the knee.

The afternoon session was spent planning what comes next with the bottom half of my calf. Working together we came up with a great compromise joining a couple of ideas that I had brought along to the session.

The needle on my calf was pretty painful. I noticed the aroma of my cheapo Lidl deodorant increasing, which correlated directly to the level of pain being inflicted.

On the telly for the afternoon session was some motorbike cross-country head-cam footage. Like I said, it’s always good to get a different perspective on things you would never normally see.

We realised that my knee is a little wonky as we tried to join up the earlier session with a calf. My tattoo man said not to worry, most people have wonky knees.

The music then shifted to Dexy’s. This helped me get through the final half hour or so.

A bloody decent session with plenty achieved. My tattoo man is the best.

“Who cares if we burn more CO2 now, the effect is miniscule for the explosive crisis that could be coming any day or week. One that we have no ability to recover from. To say it’s unenvironmental would be like complaining that you want more Pepsi from the flight attendant while the plane is crashing into a small city.”

Gosh. via @DaveWIner

You know where you are with a Van Morrison album, right from the start. A Van album is a Van album. Sure, the times may change with different styles and tastes coming and going. Van takes snippets of these, but ultimately he knows what direction he is going in. This sounds like an album recorded in 1986 – which is no surprise seeing as though it was an album… recorded in 1986. It’s the welcome inclusion of the oboe on this album which adds a little extra something to his usual Sunday afternoon laid-back jazz soul vibes. This album works best when Van takes on his softly, softly, understated role. He strips everything back and calms the experience down. It can get quite intense at times, despite very little going on.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Josh Simons in Downing Street would poison a Burnham premiership from the start

Tell It Like It Is via Morning Star

Marxism Festival debates how to stop international far right

Fighting the fascist in Clacton would be a good start. Via Socialist Worker

To the tattoo studio! For the second time in two weeks! This was also going to be something of a double-dip session. I’m also booked in for tomorrow morning, with a fourth booking later in July. Best to get it all done in one go.

On the broad canvas agenda today was my knee. In tattoo terms this roughly starts at the centre of your kneecap and then extends about three inches out. The golden rule in tattooing is always to size up.

It was also a lot more fiddlier than I was expecting. My ace tattoo man is a perfectionist. The first stencil was drawn and then marked up with the magic wipe off ink.

He stared and pondered. I could tell he wasn’t happy. He stared and pondered a little more. He pointed out a slight imperfection with everything not quite lining up.

It was time to get the soap out, scrub it all off, and start again. It’s best to do this with the removable ink than with the real dark black stuff.

I was getting a little distracted by what was on the studio telly for my entertainment: Jeremy Clarkson’s Grand Tour. I must have watched about four episodes. That’s four more episodes than I’ve ever watched in my lifetime. I confess to actually enjoying some of the stunts, if not the personalities involved.

Downstairs in the studio and the other artists had taken control of the playlist. I was a little surprised that it wasn’t the usual hip-hop which accompanies a tattoo session.

Instead we had some classic rock. It was decent to hear the full version of Layla that then plays out and becomes something very different altogether.

With the stencil now meeting the perfectionist requirements of my tattoo man, the rest of the day was spent filling in the dots. Dot. Dot. Dot. It’s all about the dot work innit.

My tattoo man has a wonderful bedside manner. I think he’s clocked that the way to keep me pain-free is to distract me with conversation. Holding down a conversation with someone for six hours and keeping the interest on both sides is no mean feat.

My watch then pinged. Oh. I see Farage has resigned over in Clacton. The conversation then changed ever so slightly.

Around seven hours later, after I first arrived, we had made some damn good progress. The knee is probably around two-thirds done. I’ve been told to expect some of the extreme black patches to start swelling overnight.

More of the same tomorrow.

This album represents a turning point in hip-hop. It straddles that age where the crudeness of the samples and beat boxes fused together with what was possible from the genre. The rap and delivery take it to another level. It’s a fun exercise in spotting the samples, but ultimately it’s the lyrics which hold your attention.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

To the Sailing Club! …on Monday evening. If it’s a Monday evening then it must be the Sailing Club table tennis social session. We had five players for this evening, pretty much the perfect number.

It was bloody stuffy up in the Sailing Club loft. We had the Velux windows and the balcony door open. A gentle breeze was coming through, but it was still pretty much hot, sticky scenes, you know what I mean.

Two players played, three sat off, then rotated. Those sitting off were regaling in Regatta tales from the weekend. One of the poor Wiv One Designs took a bit of a battering in what was a very congested estuary.

There was also plenty of talk of mud. I did clock whilst out for a walk earlier that the mouth of the Roman River is pretty much silted up. It was speculated that we’re not too far off from the whole river being so silted that Regattas of the future may be in doubt.

It got a little lively towards the second half of the session, when the fellas from Alresford Creek rocked up for their monthly social in the bar below.

Chin chin.

The main noise we were making was from a cracked ball. We played on for around five minutes or so before realising that the ball was actually dead.

Doubles ended the session. I got a little overexcited, and embarrassed myself with an inappropriate noise coming from a rather sweaty backside. Apologies, I’m not sure where that came from.

We all decided it was a good time to call it quits.

Ozric Tentacles' Become the Other CD.

I bloody love The Ozrics. Psychedelic space prog rock wasn’t exactly cool back in the day. It’s aged even less so thirty-odd years later.

There’s still something about the old hippie in me that gets me reaching for the tie-dye whenever a new Ozrics CD arrives. Let’s not go there.

I don’t even keep track of the entire Ozrics back catalogue. I doubt if the Ozrics do themselves. I think they’re one of those DIY bands where there’s endless cassette-only releases and CD-Rs doing the rounds. I do have my own Ozrics list of what I’ve got just to make sure there are no duplicates.

I’ve not even heard Become the Other to be honest. It just appeared on eBay at a half-decent price. It’s not unknown for Ozrics CDs to go as high as £50 these days. They’re simply not being pressed up.

The artwork is as space-cadet shit as you can imagine. I’m hoping the music will match it.

Back in the day you needed to be under the influence of something rather strong in the herb department to appreciate the Ozrics. A strong cup of tea works for me these days.

Sometimes I long for good old-fashioned analogue music. Other mornings start with a desire to go all digital. The Chemical Brothers and Surrender fitted the brave new world that I craved for on Monday morning. It was straight in with Music: Response. This could quite easily be the theme music for Night Rider.

The Chems were bloody great back in the day. They knew how to hit the button perfectly to convince jaded indie kids in search of something a little more exciting over to the other side. Buzzing off yer tits with the Chems rather than shoe-gazing was where all the fun was at. Surrender is perhaps the last great album by the pair. It still leaves me grinning. And dancing.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐