The bowler's Holding, the batsman's Willey

I was going to write a blog about cricket - rather than camping - being the new rock n roll.

For those of you equipped with memories think back to September 2005 - it WAS the new rock n roll for-ever-such-a-brief moment back then.

Yes, that was when England won the ashes and Freddie Flintoff got pissed in front of the whole nation.

He played one hell of a blinder, then promptly decided to go out and get hammered on one hell of a bender.

There is talk about him trying to recapture the spirit (what about the beer and wine?) of 2005. He is trying to play in a relaxed, carefree way - the way he did four years ago.

Sadly, on the evidence of the first three days of the First Test - in Cardiff of all places - 2005 was a vintage year and 2009 nothing more than an ordinary harvest. He might be relaxed and carefree but no Man Of The Series moments so far.

There have been hints of what the great man can do. Only the merest of hints. But so far it has not been enough - he has been all too human.

The overwhelming professionalism of the Australian Cricket team - no stars (despite the stats I don't see Ricky Ponting as a star - I see him more as the long-lost son of George W Bush - believe me folks the resemblance is strong) just faceless professionals - have been the clear winners so far.

Those faceless professionals are doing a better job than any star the England team can field at the moment - maybe we should get the guy in the black and white photo out of retirement, he seems to know what a batsman should do when he sees a ball (or two).

Don't even get me started about Kevin Pietersen - when he played 'that' shot to get out he was probably as disorientated as the rest of us that the first test was being held in Wales. What the?!

Still, it might not be a vintage summer for cricket but, now that there are another 22 more days of Test cricket to look forward to, Lord Loafer can indulge in as much loafing as befits a man of my leisurely status.

Cricket is not the new rock n roll - or if it is it is the new Prog Rock and everyone who is a cricket fan should get there hands on one of these...


... oh yeah baby.

Rain Rain Go The FCUK Away!

It's June, it's summer, it's the weekend and it's raining.

I shouldn't sound so surprised really.

There was going to be a school sports day fundraiser thing today - now there isn't due to an oversupply of wet stuff contravening numerous Health and Safety clauses and sub-clauses.

As a result I'm very happy, stupidly so. Probably means I'm a passively aggressive sociopath, or something.

The weather reminds me of a trip I once took to Wales, a place where it rains 99.99% of the time.


Q: Do you want to hear about?

A:
1) YES PLEASE, MR LORD LOAFER SIR - YOU ARE, AFTER ALL, THE GOD OF ALL STORYTELLERS!!

2) NO, PISS OFF YOU BORING KNOBHEAD

Pick number one pick number one pick number one pick number one Pick number one pick number one pick number one pick number onePick number one pick number one pick number one pick number onePick number one pick number one pick number one pick number bloody one!!!!

I know I have slagged off the aesthetic appearance of the locals in Wales, but the countryside there can not be faulted. Apart the existence of Merthyr Tydfil that is. Which should be demolished in it's entirety. It would be a mercy killing.

It's one of those places that is not only completely crap to look at and no doubt crap to live in it is also a place that is difficult to spell. While checking the spelling just now I came across the Merthyr Tydfil County Borough website. Thoughtfully, (although what the thought was I don't know exactly) they have installed a link to a webcam on the site. I had a quick peek and yes, to my utter lack of surprise, the webcam showed that it was raining. And generally looking like crap.

Check the link if you don't believe me - http://www.merthyr.gov.uk/home/Community/Webcam/

Clouds, rain and unremitting grimness.

John Betjeman was wrong...

Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Merthyr, not Slough
It isn't fit for humans now... or ever.

Bastard... just been disturbed by some Italian speaking Jehovah Witness Weirdos.

So anyway...

My trip to Wales. Very funny. Beats my trip to West Africa hands down.

Sod it, I will tell you about it next time I blog.

Give you something to live for.

I'm nice like that.

Enjoy the rain, I'm off to feed the cat.

Why Are There No Mirrors In Wales?

Here's a random thought to share with you while I wait for the bath to fill.

I recently went camping in South Wales, in the Black Mountains.

More on that another time. Bet you can't wait, eh?

But I have to say every toilet I went into while I was there didn't have a mirror.

I reckon it is a local government ploy... to avoid scaring the locals.

Because mirrors and some of the people I saw while walking to Tesco in Abergavenny (only to find it shut) should definitely be kept as far away from each other as possible.

Abergavenny may well be the traditional gateway to South Wales and, to the incomparable beauty of Brecon Beacons National Park - but it is also the gateway to the Vale of Ugliness I reckon.

Harsh but fair.

Scary and quite hairy them locals are.

And that was just the women.


This one is Wales's answer to Rachael Weitz.

Guaranteed to put lead in one's pencil every time?

Don't get me wrong, the Welsh are all right.

They are friendly, into beer, rugby and singing.

But.

Yes.

Exactly.