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Bayshill Immersed in Fate’s Gumbo!

Bibury
Tom Liley batting

Bayshill immersed in Fate’s gumbo!

The Colonel (of the Mustard type) returns with grim-faced fortitude to deliver another dose of almost incoherent cricketing japes from deep within the bucolic Cotswolds.

A year in cricket is a long time! Never mind all that politics nonsense, with the various parties’ chaps and chapesses going about to extol their own flavour of virtues, whilst thoroughly besmirching all others. It’s not a pleasant thing to see at the best of times, with the television now festooned around the clock with these chinless wonders, saying how the other chinless wonders haven’t a clue.

The only bright news I heard this week, was that the Labour Party had decided after prolonged prevarication to bring back Abbot. Well, well done to them I say! The Bays have been endorsing this prized shibboleth for as long as I can remember. Indeed, after yesterday’s match they were quaffing said beer once again in The Royal George at Birdlip. God knows why Sir Keir What’s his Name decided to ban the old Abbo in the first place. A trusted insider has since told me that at the wild Covid party, when all present were whiffled to the eyebrows, which interestingly the police decided not to pursue (trying to emulate BoJo at the time methinks) such a libation would have been deemed too far too dangerous for his bally workers.

Now, after telling you about all the nonsense in political circles, I have the sad duty to inform you that such behaviour is alive and well in not just cricket, but also in the hallowed circles of Bayshill cricket. Yes, dear reader, I know this may come as a shock, but after news of our keeper’s injury was posted on Twitter or should I say ‘X’, a certain person replied to say that the Bays was a, ‘god awful club and people.’ This hound of hell or should I more accurately say, misguided son of Belial went on to describe our injured keeper as, ‘an utter bell end.’ Well, you can imagine my umbrage as club scribe, at such uncalled for words from this certain unspecified person – clearly a grubby imbecile of the first order, with no clear understanding of grammar, punctuation and indeed spelling. Without the need to research this heinous individual, it may be concluded that he has suffered in his upbringing and probably obtains his particular code of practice from the football field. But enough of this absolute rotter; I move to the cricket with no further comments on this distasteful subject.

Now this report, really shouldn’t be left to the boy scouts, so before they take over, here goes!

At this corresponding cricketing event held last year, one of the Bays’ players was struck down to the ground by a ruptured Achilles. It was the second ball of his innings before the pink elephants took over his thoughts and he was whisked away to the Krankenhaus. Now this itself, is all part of the hurly burly of the drama attached to cricket. But dear reader is there something sinister in this? Of course not, you quite rightly retort. (There is no truth to the wild rumour that a Voodoo doll of our fallen

keeper was found in the long grass beyond the boundary, with a pin in both left heel and right thumb. No Twiglet zone here, I promise you)

Yesterday, the match began with the Bays in the field; the sun was shining, the bees were buzzing, the corncrakes were corncraking. All seemed tranquillity and peace. God was in his heaven (if you believe in deities and what not) and willow had struck leather firmly to the boundary just the once. It is at this particular moment that the writer draws the reader’s attention to the previous paragraph. Could history repeat itself? Well seemingly so. Liley of the S persuasion copped a rasping delivery by Alex Harding on his pollex. As the Latin scholars amongst you quite rightly know, the pollex is the thumb, whilst the big toe claims the title pollex maximus, just like that Australian Gladiator chappie.

Angus Guthrey took over the glove work and the game continued for the remaining ten Bays’ players, whilst Liley took a lie down before wandering off for anaesthetic of some description in the Catherine Wheel.

The Harding brothers toiled away in the sunshine for the first eight overs, which went for just 31 on a smallish and fast outfield. Steve Twine and Paul Saunders took over the bowling duties for the same number of overs, but still a wicket had to fall, with the former returning figures of 0 for 23 and the latter 0 for 46. The score had now crept rather ominously for the Bayshill to 111 or dare I say Horatio, that is Nelson.

Tom Liley and guest player Chakrabarti then bowled 5 and six overs on the bounce, with the latter snaffling up the first wicket that of Merrylees for 16. At this point it must be noted that two Bibury players were already back in the hutch retired; Cowen 50* and Robinson 54*. After 26 of the 30 overs the score was up to 156.

Back came the Hardings and suddenly, with the desire to up the score, came a brace of wickets for the maturing bowler Michael, who finished with 2/24 off his 6 overs. Not to be left out, brother Alex took E Robinson’s wicket clean bowled. The thirty overs were up with 178 posted.

A little light tea was taken by the players, before the Bays took to the field to bat. Colin Harding, the third of the Harding triumvirate opened with Chakrabati. Colin emulating Bays’ openers of years past, looked as though he was going to complete an opening maiden as a batsman, but alas on the last ball he went bowled by Cowell. Captain Steve Pritchard, already in mid-season form with the bat, defied his average, going caught first ball for a gilt-edged quacker. A hush from the players followed this tragedy, which was further exacerbated by the equally gilt-edged innings of Angus Guthrey, the prospective son-in-law. But first we return to the innings of AJ or A J Machy. Steady at first, AJ took three singles of his first 23 deliveries. But the bowling was tough and slowly but surely a score was being assembled. His partner Chakrabati was next to fall though for 9, bowled Beal.

The Bays had 27 off the first 10. AJ left in the thirteenth over for 38 off 62 with three 4s. Guthrey now began his innings, with steady and sure shots that the watching prospective pater could but admire with a touch of the old green-eyed monster, that doth mock the meat it feeds on.

Tom Liley made 5 off 15, with just the single 4, before Twine made exactly double the contribution off 7. Guthrey had retired by now, finishing with six fours and one heady six. Saunders and Harding M were left unbeaten as the 30 overs were completed. The Bays were exactly 25 runs short, with 4 wickets left.

Another loss, but importantly a game played well and in the right spirit. After the game Bibury fired up the barbecue and the website supremo got on the outside of and I quote here, ‘The best burger I’ve had in my life!’ I think it may be a little while before Bays’ antics are reported on Twitter again however. Perhaps Twitter has changed it’s name to X in an effort to become X-rated. Let us hope that it self regulates by reading and deleting further defamatory remarks and comments re The Bays. It could start by blocking the account of the prize dunderhead whose facile posts are mentioned above.

Colonel Mustard signs off, with his pince-nez adjusted tightly and his virtual pipe where it bally well should be.

Bibury 178/4

Cowen 50, Robinson C 54

Harding A 6/2/27/1, Harding M 6/0/24/2, Chakrabati 6/0/18/1

Bayshill 153/6

AJ Machy 38/62/3/0, Guthrey A 58/63/6/1

Robinson 7/0/34/3

Fork It! – Twice

Poulton
Chris teeing off!

Colonel Mustard returns once more, but I must warn you that he’s been walking up and down like Napolean on the Bellerophon.

When some dashed bounder took me aside and whispered conspiratorially in my nearest lug hole that my last report was inaccurate, I nearly blew a damned fuse and then with a small pinch of consternation, contemplated that maybe I was after all, a modern-day Sydney Carton. Well, I’m bally well not, I tell you! And don’t you dare bring that up again.

With my rather becoming aneroid barometer doing as many Swedish style exercises as I’ve seen it do for quite some time, the day was clearly set for a variety of different types of weather. I share with you dear reader that Poulton is a place whose climate is known to one of its residents better than any old John Kettley or indeed check-suited Michael Fish. The fact of the matter is that I don’t know the identity of this esteemed individual, or indeed exactly what he (I know it was a ‘he’ and I’m not getting drawn into and arguments about gender and all that claptrap here) said regarding the prevailing meteorological conditions. But the gist I learned, was that when the clouds grew above a particular field next to Poulton’s cricketing arena, a deluge of considerable proportions would follow, in the way day invariably follows night and so on. This brain-box of a man is I suggest, a veritable Nostradamus. He was so precise as to be within a single delivery of this match with the mighty Bays, as to when the first heavy drops would land and on his say alone after this, it would be sensible to send any contemporary Poulton-based Noahs, off to build their sturdy arks.

Before the cricket could start, a considerable shower doused the outfield, but the good news for the players at least, was that the wicket was well-covered and sheltering beneath, as snug as a worm in a chestnut. Poulton’s captain* (at least I think he was) seemed particularly upset by the conditions and was heard to mutter rather animatedly, ‘Fork it!’

Well, I must say we were all ready to play but there was no need for… Now at this point he completed his actual meaning, to suggest that the areas where the bowlers ran up needed a bit of nifty fork-work. Rumour has it that our current captain had also said, ‘Fork it!’ when his pre-arranged lift failed to turn up, leaving him as alone as a good-time girl on a street corner in the red-light district of old Chelters, where he happens to happily reside. But enough of the captain and his abandonment in this seriously beaver-infested region.

Poulton had decided that the Bays would enjoy a bit of batting on a damp strip with a sopping outfield. Chris Horner, yes indeed dear reader, your eyeballs are not deceiving you, it was Chris Horner himself who opened the innings with his long time opening

‘buddy’ as Norbert likes to say. Nobody had the temerity to mention golf as Chris walked to the centre of the ground to tee off as it were.

Sir Nobby Norbert the Nobster rushed off to a blistering start with a maiden, something his long-time partner could never aspire to these days. Their partnership however was golden in that it was exactly 50, taking up almost half of the overs. Nobby still defiantly wearing his Noddy hat, was first to go, out, clean bowled for 19 off 47 with just the single 4 and 15 hard run singles. Katie Guthrie joined Chris for a smaller partnership of 18, with Chris running Katie out for 3. A further 11 runs were added to the total before Bose removed Chris himself for 35 off 46 with five hard-earned fores, sorry fours.

At this point the heavens opened and the players dashed for cover. Toffee Chris Weyman and Steve Pritchard after a short hiatus of some twenty minutes resumed to move the score upwards to 77 before Chris W was caught for 8 and eleven runs later the captain was also out caught off Joseph’s bowling. Angus Guthrie made four off 18 and Steve Liley in at 7 made a single run off three deliveries. Thirty overs were done and dusted and the Bays had posted 94 for 5.

After tea was taken in the pavilion, the weather started to turn cold and the Bays players took to the field muffled up in jumpers and gloves (in the case of the wicket-keeper). Saunders and Twine throttled the opening batsmen’s scoring rate from the off. The first 9 overs yielded just 11 runs, with Bays latest bowling revelation taking another two wickets, removing Stephens bowled and Bose for a duck caught behind by Steve Liley. The second wicket was an action replay of a dismissal last week right down to the batsman not walking until the finger was raised. The only difference being that this time the finger was quite correctly raised.

Chris Thorp and Rod the Flying Scotsman were the first change of bowling. Chris thundering in off his usual long run in went for a few off his five, whilst Rod took two wickets for 23 off his four, an LBW of a full toss and a caught pouched by Paul Saunders.. The 14 off 10 had climbed to 86 off 20 and the game was just about concluded. Angus Guthrie bowled 1.4 overs for 6 and Poulton were over the line.

Before concluding the report, it is to be noted that a Red Kite made several flypasts to the delight of all and sundry. Drinks were summarily dispatched in and outside of the pavilion. Jeremy Clarkson’s ‘Hawkstone’ cider although of the fizzy keg variety, was cold and hit the spot and the wallet which is exactly what you’d expect from the cheeky irascible farmer.

Strangely, The George at Birdlip was visited by three of the players and the Right Honourable Chairman on their way home. The writer notes with amazement that this establishment provides Ale of the Abbot. Well, that I must say, is a coincidence and a half indeed, although nobody present was interested in halves of any description.

Bayshill 94/5

Horner C 35/46/5/0

Pierce A 19/47/1/0

Joseph 2 for 14 off 4

Poulton 95/4

Bathurst 21, Leffhagen 36*

Twine S 5/1/6/2

Macleod R 4/0/23/2

Catches: Liley S 1, Saunders P 1.

Uphill for Bayshill!

Birdlip vs Bayshill
Bays relaxing after the game – note shadowy photographer Oscar

Colonel Mustard once more sounds off on the Bays’ latest cricketing embranglement.

Well my hearties – and I hope you don’t take umbrage at my informal tones so early in a document as important to the Bays as the Magna Carta, Gettysburg Address or dare I say it that most important of border agreements, inscribed on a stone block signifying the boundary between Eannatum of Lagash and Umma in Mesopotamia in circa 3100 bc.

The position of Birdlip and Brimpsfield’s ground is high up above the metropolis of Cheltenham, sitting on a large lump of fossil-impregnated Cotswold Oolitic Jurassic Limestone. The ground is pleasantly embowered, with the trees doing their very best to hush the continuous noise of the raucous traffic that thunders past interminably. At the beginning of the game a green woodpecker or yaffle, for some strange reason attached itself momentarily to a fence post on the far side of the playing area before crossing the pitch in the direction of the George, presumably for a livener or possibly on such a hot afternoon, a snootful of Abbot. Now that Professor Yaffle had toodled off in his random avian way, the game began in earnest, with the mighty Bays in the field under the pristine azure firmament.

Birdlip negotiated the first over without a hint of a problem, with Steve Twine unleashing the leather at Birdlip’s Bidmead. Angus Guthrie opening bowler and indeed batsman this week, started the party with a brace of wickets in the second over. The unfortunate Bidmead, who had clonked a four went clean bowled to a ball that was simply too good. It pitched just about outside the line of off, to seam inwards with gusto and splatter the stumps. Khan came and went before you could blink, with Guthrie removing him LBW very next ball. The batsman hadn’t seen the raised finger and must have suffered an acute spasm of generous indignation after rather unceremoniously being told that he needed to scud off back to the pavilion. At least the poor blighter wasn’t going to suffer sunstroke in this sunniest of sunny afternoons.

Twine and Guthrie toiled away in the heat, before bowling duties passed to guest player Oscar Mann (shadowy photographer) and our very own Alex Bertie Van Dyke. The latter managed the only maiden in the game before smartly removing Holder for 26, caught and bowled. Why use two hands when one suffices as the Bishop or was it Abbot said to the barmaid?

G Morris with his score on 12 was next to go. Once more, Alex who clearly knows his job on the cricket field, from soup to nuts, missed it seemed a second caught and bowled, but little did we realise that he wished to run the blighter out at the non-strike end. One batsman sighed a sigh of relief whilst the other, due to the straight drive of his partner, must have considered himself most unlucky, when the bails flew off. Into each life, some rain must fall and so it was with poor metaphorically drenched Morris.

Mahmud had been a little too good for the Bays bowlers and he left the field undefeated after passing his fifty with a decadent reverse shot. Oscar finished his seven with 42 runs against him, but it must be said, a good spell. Chris Thorp thundering down off his full run showed variation to an alarming extent at times. He was unlucky having drawn Hancox down the wicket to see the stumping chance go begging, as the ball hit the keeper to dribble away. No matter, you can’t keep a Thorp without an ‘E’ down and shortly afterwards Guthrie caught Nitin for just a single. No heroic diving this week, just a somewhat casual few back paces and a single hand, to pluck the ball, Cox’s Pippin like from the welkin.

Tom Liley, still suffering with an Achilles problem began a short spell of bowling. Short, in that it was off about three or four paces and only lasted three overs. However, the lack of steps and deliveries didn’t hinder Liley’s ability to remove batsmen. First, the improving Blackburn was clean bowled to a ripsnorter that came in not unlike Angus’ earlier dismissal. Sri was soon to follow Nitin, once more, clean bowled.

Twine had rejoined Liley to finish the bowling and he deservedly had the returning Mahmud in knots, also bowling him. 188 posted by Birdlip & B and the players set off for the pavilion for drinks and food and assorted mirth and merriment and cricketing banter.

Angus Guthrie was padded up and ready to go, before the sandwich box lids had been removed and the cheesy and beetrooty / mustardy / rockety contents even sniffed. Such is his enthusiasm for the game! Hip hip hurrah to him we say. Good man and so on. In contrast, Norbert (Sir) Nobby Pierce was getting on the outside of a large piece of venison, using his bat as a platter for sundry pies and other various comestibles. After a considerable hiatus, during which time, it must be reported that Abbot Ale was seen being quaffed with considerable gusto, the players finally got back onto the field. A pied wagtail had been spotted lurking on the perimeter and shortly after play began, a buzzard took up his position above the batsmen like a drone in some god-forsaken war-torn arena.

The aforementioned Pierce, dusted off the crumbs adorning his bat and with Guthrie moved the score steadily if not spectacularly upwards. Ten overs gone and exactly 50 on the board. The first wicket to fall was in the 13th over and it was the unfortunate Guthrie, clean-bowled after someone told him it was nearly 5 o’clock. Once out, Angus buzzed for the gate like a mustang on a promise.

Norbert in the meantime decided that he might as well get to his 50 and retire. Suddenly, producing a welter of four fours in 5 balls and he was nearly there. A single and a two saw him over the line and back in the hutch with his rather becoming noddy hat still in place.

The captain – Old Pritchers strode to the crease like some sort of latter-day Colossus from mythology of the Greek persuasion, wielding his mighty bat. Only 15 balls later, the first four crashed to the fence. Three more fours followed, before Steve P was caught off Nitin for 24. Alex van Dyke went third ball for a duck bowled by Blackburn, before Oscar suffered the same fate, being sharply stumped.

Suddenly, wickets were falling and the run rate receding. Tom and Steve Liley added just 5 before Steve left for a single, cleaned-up, caught and bowled Nitin. Tom left shortly afterwards having hit the one four, with just 8 to his name. Twine after two fours also left for 8 run out and Hawk aka Chris Thorp was also run out for 2 after some lusty blows that kept picking out the fielder.

Nobby returned and with Weyman at the other end there was hope of sorts. Some forty or so runs needed in about 5 overs. The very next ball Chris Weyman who made a brisk 18 off 14, was caught behind and as they say, that was that.

The Bays were all out for 154, chasing 188. As you can imagine, this result had taken the team amidships. The Bays was taking on beer at a rapid rate of knots, but definitely not sinking. After leaving the ground, the George was found to be too busy with a queue extending out of the pub, so the Rotunda provided the necessary libations. Bays’ team spirit was as ever undaunted and undented and there was, dear and highly esteemed reader the subtle realisation that the team and its diverse players, were not put in this world for pleasure alone.

Birdlip 188\8

Mahmud 63, Holder 26, Blackburn 31

Twine 7/-/34/1, Guthrie 7/-/22/2, Van Dyke 7/1/40/1, Thorp 5/-/29/1, Liley T 3/-/16/2

Bayshill 154 all out

Pierce 50* / 61/ 8 fours

Pritchard S 24 / 42 / 4

Blackburn 4/-/25/4.

Captain Nearly Pulls Rod Off Prematurely!

Angus the salmon!

Colonel Mustard returns from his latest batch of intensive therapy, recommended by no less than the esteemed Prof Ganglion, club physician and nerve specialist (Hat size 8+). The Professor in stern words, had indicated that a stiff injection of sea air and immersive Fjord Therapy a must for Mustard. Let us all hope that it has worked.

Kingswood as any boo boo will know, used to be in the county of Wiltshire. However, it surrendered that status in 1844, due to the Counties (Detached Parts) Act of that year, having been, somewhat peculiarly nothing less than a detached part itself. For the yearning historian in you, there was a thriving Cistercian Abbey here founded in 1139, colonised by monks from their house at Tintern. In honour of Hugh, their very first Abbot, I would like to report that the writer, reverently downed a pint of his namesake. (I don’t mean Hugh (not you) either – now I must say that so early on, you’re just being a trifle pedantic)

The embowered cricket ground of Kingswood doesn’t sprawl upon the remains of the old abbey, of which there are remarkably few, but lies instead at a most sensible walking distance from The Village Inn.

With humidity levels set at high, the mercury teetering around the mark of 75 degrees F and our unseen feathered friends twittering at extreme levels, the captain lost the toss. The Bays had been sent into the field to bat in a 30 over game that looked from the off as though it would be rain affected. Heavy ponderous storm clouds moved around the ground like a Sumo wrestler in a cake shop. The Bays Captain strangely, had managed to remember to bring the scorebook which he had forgotten the previous week. Had he filled it in in a fit of remorse? Had he cocoa! I must push on here though, before I agitate his dander and God forbid, he reaches for ‘Old Flexy’ his favourite pupil encourager.

Norbert Nobbie the Nobster opened the innings with the young and thrusting Angus Guthrie (but more of him very soon). Nobbie looking out of sorts as his regular batting partner of years, seems to have turned his back on the game of cricket, to thrash little white balls around a manicured, some would say ruined piece of countryside. Yes, I jest not. Chris Crazy Horner is walking 18 holes with his mashie niblick. No good at all will come of it, old Mustard here sternly warns. Mind you, some quarter of a century ago, the club suffered a much worse case of Golfitis as quite a few regular players decided that a little white ball that didn’t move was easier to hit than its bigger red cousin that moved with a bit of zip. And where is the camaraderie in ‘shooting’ nine holes on your tod in the wind and rain? If you were to pose this question to our right-honourable chairman, he’d shoot you a gimlet-eyed glance all right and say, ‘You need your plugs decarbonised, you’re off your bally rocker!’

Now, returning to the abandoned Norbert, we have to sadly report that after the first over he had six nicely defined dots and a wide; the score had climbed to just the one. Angus, seeing the forlorn broken-hearted man playing at the other end, didn’t hang around, going bowled, first ball to Wallace. Tom Liley, his replacement, saw out the rest of the over with the score 1 for 1. It looked like a ‘long’ afternoon was in store for the Bays. But things move mysteriously in cricket with Tom cracking a well-timed four and Nobby getting off the mark with a single. 2 overs gone and score up to a heady 6 with just the one back in the nest box.

Nobby however left the very next ball, to be bowled by Wallace, to bring the captain to the crease. At this point our doughty sporran-clad Scotsman, Rod Braveheart Macleod, for some reason shouting, ‘Freedom!’ was demanding to bat, to see off as he thought, William Wallace. The captain, ignoring the kilted kerfuffle on the boundary, set about his task in a ruthless business manner, like a headmaster ignoring the naughty boys at the front, knowing that some other minion will sort them out before too long.

Racing to 4 off his first 25 deliveries, the cappuccino seemed set to stay, whist Tom at the other end took up the cudgels and set about building a score. Indeed, a solid partnership of sixty in the next thirteen overs saw the score up to 66 before Tom mistimed one, to be caught and bowled Mc Cubbin. Tom had been going well and when out was on 28 off 30 with four 4s and a six. Alex Bertie Van Dyke joined the swishing pedagogue in the middle and before we knew it the score had moved on to 90, before Steve P departed unbeaten on 50 with 8 fours to his name. Alex, now batting with Steve Twine crashed a single boundary before being bowled for 13. Twine was caught behind off Burnell for seven with one four with the score 106 for 6 off 24. Was it going to be enough? This was the question no one dared ask.

Ajit in at seven, as always looked in a hurry. He sadly amassed just three singles, before being well caught off Parsons. Steve Liley in at 8 was joined by Paul Saunders, who hit a four before departing clean bowled by Parsons, with score 114. The returned keeper Liley, then hit two fours to the leg side, to make nine before going LBW with the score up to 28. Michael Harding was joined by Braveheart Macleod, who’s earlier all mouth and kilt was to be muffled, when he went first ball to Parsons.

Back came Old Pritchers as the team affectionately call the current Captain. Well, it has to be said, that his 25 off 12 in his second innings appeared to have made all the difference! Three hard hit fours and 2 big juicy sixes had to be added to his score to bring him to three-quarters of a century and the top score, before Wallace bowled the cane-wielding supremo. ‘Well done,’ to him we say!

The Bays had somehow acquired 157 in 28 of their 30 overs, whilst the tree-pippits, warbling willow tits, marsh creepers, brambling firecrests and blue-footed boobies had been twittering like the blazes in the hedgerows and associated greenery.

Perturbation is not a nice thing to see on anyone’s face after or during tea. But there it was, all over the Bays players’ faces. Had they done enough with the old Salix?

Ajit (the man in a hurry if you’d forgotten) opened the bowling with the haggis-wielding Hibs supporting Scotsman, Rod. The former went for just a single in his over, but Rod went first ball for a well driven four. Some wit on the Bays side wondered if Rod would be allowed to complete the over, but he did and soon words were being eaten like the various cakes on offer at teatime, which were and here I take you aside, to be frightfully honest, as good as any cake can be. Both bowlers, returning to the cricket, put in a stint of 6 overs each and it could be argued that the game was won here. I’m sorry if I’ve ruined the rest of the report for you, by revealing the winner, but there it is.

Ajit only yielded 12 runs and took 2 wickets, one clean bowled and one a brilliant caught and bowled, which could easily have seen him carted off to hospital in the latest blood wagon. We salute you Ajit for perhaps the catch of the season. (up to that point) Rod, wearing his kilt, sporran and somehow carrying voluminous Stewart tartaned bagpipes over his shoulder took three wickets, a bowled, an LBW and a brilliant catch by Angus Guthrie. Angus had no right to even get near the projectile. He turned his back on the ball the make the required distance and then leapt like a leaping Atlantic salmon powered possibly by a 1920’s Sir Nigel Gresley A4 type streamlined Pacific, into the great beyond. Somehow a quick glance enabled him to work out where the ball was and then in full flight, he ‘cupped it’ and fortunately the subsequent landing didn’t dislodge it, for now, the catch of the season. Not bad for a leaping salmon to get catch of the season!

Although Rod went for 38 off his six, his three wickets on the back of a golden quacker, show his Iron Brew Scottish mettle. Also, he was as near as possible to the unlikely double of said ‘golden’ and a hat trick! But alas, sometimes as the poet Burns would say, the best laid plans may go agley.

Twelve overs gone and a neat 50 on the board. Michael Harding and Paul Saunders took over the bowling duties and in their ten overs gave just 15 runs away and between them took 3 wickets, wrapping up the game. Saunders had Wallace caught by Van Dyke, whist Harding bowled Thomas and Burnell, with the score only 65 off 24.

Steve Twine (caught and bowled) and Angus G wrapped things up with the last six overs, with a wicket a piece. The game could have finished a little earlier if a stumping had been given and a Van Dyke run out accredited, but sometimes you don’t get what you deserve; that is cricket.

Kingswood were all out for 93 and the Bays shot off to The Village Inn to quaff like stags drinking after a damned good chase or as the polite in the party would say, going for an overdose of the blushful Hippocrene. But before I leave you to recover from the heat in this report, I’d like to tell you that educationally subnormal hedgehogs seem to abound

in Kingswood. The enclosed photo of a hedgehog and the caption clearly indicate this sad fact. Perhaps the captain could open a school for hedgehogs?

Old Moutarde signs off once more to drink deep and long, thereby hoping to marshal his thoughts for the next bout of convoluted verbiage.

I’ve Forgot my Fecking ??????

Hawkception

In a world inundated with reminders and digital assistants, forgetting seems like a relic of the past, a quaint memory lost in the fog of our collective consciousness. Yet, despite our best efforts to corral our thoughts and belongings, forgetfulness persists, like a mischievous imp dancing on the fringes of our minds. It lurks in the shadows of our busy lives, waiting for the opportune moment to strike, leaving us scrambling to recall that elusive piece of information or the whereabouts of our misplaced keys.

But perhaps there’s a certain charm to forgetting, a whimsical dance with the absurdity of life. After all, in the chaos of forgetfulness lies the potential for discovery, a chance encounter with the unexpected.

It so happened, that this mischievous imp. (Let’s call him Tammy) struck this weekend.

With the illustrious Mustard away on ecumenical matters, the duty of Bayshill Quizmaster unexpectedly fell upon his unsuspecting brother, the esteemed Lord Tewksbury Mustard. Now, one might assume that the role of a Quizmaster is a laborious and thankless task. Yet, Bayshill’s Quizmaster, dear reader, is a creature of a different breed.

Instead of the meticulous artistry of crafting quizzes, balancing categories and difficulties like a virtuoso tightrope walker, Bayshill’s Quizmaster’s secret recipe is as mundane as a soggy biscuit. Picture this: a mere purchase of a lacklustre newspaper, a hasty snapshot of the quiz, complete with answers, and the covert dissemination via a top-secret WhatsApp group. And lo and behold, the pinnacle of recognition for the victors? Nothing more grandiose than the humble trophy emoji.

Yes, you read that correctly, dear reader. The mantle of Bayshill Quizmaster, entrusted to Lord Tewksbury (pronounced Chuks bree) was naught but a charade of significance, akin to tasking an assistant football manager with the solemn duty of guarding a corner flag. A preposterous endeavour where even the most befuddled of fools could emerge victorious. Oh, the absurdity of it all!

I think you can see where this is going.

A fortnight prior, in the cosy confines of a local watering hole, Mustard and Tewksbury indulged in the age-old tradition of quaffing Abbot Ales and DoomBars in copious amounts. (Rumour has it though that Mustard has been on the Pina colada recently). Amidst the frothy merriment, Mustard, ever the vigilant sage, imparted his wisdom upon his brother with solemn gravity.

“Now, listen here, dear Tewkers,” Mustard intoned, his voice carrying the weight of generations of Mustards before him. “There exist three immutable truths in the life of a Mustard. First, the sacred tasting spoon, for one never knows when a condiment might come a-knocking. Second, the timely posting of the weekly Bayshill quiz, a duty not to be trifled with. And third, the steadfast declaration of ‘it’s all Greek to me’ whenever Greek matters arise. These, my dear Tewksbury, are words to live by.”

“Ffffear not, br-br-brother,” Tewksbury retorted with his characteristic lisp, his words slightly muddled by the remnants of ale. “The chances of me fff-forgetting th-th-those are as slim as ol’ Pritchers fff-forgetting the scorebook.”

“Aha! Quite right you are,” chuckled Mustard, his laughter mingling with the scent of virtual pipe smoke. “I looked him square in the eye and extracted a solemn vow that he won’t forget. Rest assured, dear Tewkers, my delegation is as profound as the depths of the ale we imbibe. Both matters are in the safest of hands.”

……………………………………………………..

In the wake of a puzzling absence of the Bayshill quiz and the elusive scorebook, the valiant heroes of Bays village found themselves facing off against Bredon CC in a 35-over friendly match.

After a week-long hiatus courtesy of Mother Nature’s tears, the Bays brigade embarked on their journey to this novel fixture. Nestled in the bosom of picturesque landscapes,

with rolling countryside vistas casting shadows beneath the looming Bredon Hill, the scene was a quintessential English cricket tableau.

With a nod to tradition, a 35-over duel was declared, and Bredon, in a stroke of luck, won the toss and elected to bat. Skipper Pritchard, unperturbed by the outcome of the toss, welcomed the decision given the scarcity in the team’s batting line-up.

The Harding’s, stalwarts of seasons past, made their triumphant return, accompanied by the fresh-faced debutant George Plumb. Stephen Liley found himself relegated in favor of his grandson Jamie, while AVD, Tom, Steve T, and Soggy held their positions, alongside Skipper Pritchard himself. AVD, now the “seasoned” gloveman, adorned his (no longer) new gloves, while Tom, grappling with an ongoing Achilles ailment, remembered to don his shiny new cricket boots, taking up the mantle of opening batsman for the day.

Enter Michael, the enigmatic Magic man, charging down the hill with all the gusto of a knight on a quest. His in-swinging deliveries causing early consternation for both batsmen and keeper alike, with a penchant for mischief as the ball decided to play hide-and-seek with the ground.

Meanwhile, his brother Alex, with a swagger all his own, took up the mantle at the other end. Swinging the ball away with might, he revelled in the contrasting bounce of the track, turning each delivery into a delightful surprise package.

The elder Harding struck first, unleashing a fiery inswinging yorker that sent F Emmanuel’s stumps cartwheeling for a mere 1 run. Not to be outdone, Alex followed suit, luring H Buckley into a false sense of security before snatching him away for a paltry 10 runs, thanks to a stellar catch by Steve T at mid-off. Bredon’s opener, L Plane, however, proved a thorn in the side of the brothers’ onslaught, weathering the storm and launching a ferocious counter-attack with a flurry of boundaries.

With ten overs under their belts, the youthful Harding’s handed over the reins to the more seasoned duo of Steve and Soggy. Steve, the current wicket-taking leading maestro, wasted no time in getting back into the groove, snagging his first scalp of the match with a caught-and-bowled effort.

As H Howard teamed up with the indomitable L Plane for the home team, a slow but steady rebuilding process commenced. The duo adeptly rotated the strike while capitalizing on the occasional loose delivery. Enter Jamie Liley, relieving Steve with a reputation for striking on his first ball, though it was his third that truly tested fate. Alas, his well-earned edge found itself hurtling toward first slip—except, in a curious twist of fate, first slip had decided to play hide-and-seek, strategically relocating himself to third. You know I can’t quite remember who that fielder was. (Sorry Jamie)

Undeterred by the village chaos unfolding on the field, the batting pair continued to pile on the runs, much to the dismay of the befuddled bowlers. Enter Colin, determined not to be outshone, as he unleashed his deceptive pies in all the right places, exploiting the quirky nature of the pitch to perfection. And lo and behold, a mighty hoik from Plane sent the ball soaring into the ether. Who should find himself under it but Skipper Pritchers himself?

Years of coaching juniors on the fine art of catching surely came flooding back to Pritchers in that moment. “Stay calm,” he whispered to himself, “don’t throw your hands up like a madman. Don’t sprint around like a crazed headless chicken. And for heaven’s sake, don’t overshoot your mark.” Yet, for some reason Pritchard did all of the above, and somehow – someone he managed to defy all logic. Clinging onto the ball for dear life and miraculously avoiding a tumble on his posterior. And thus, Plane departed the crease, his valiant innings cut short at a commendable 35 runs.

With the stage set for drama and delight, debutant George Plumb seized the moment with aplomb as he joined the attack. He found his line with lightning speed, first sending Howard’s stumps flying for a well-earned 39 runs, before swiftly dispatching L Jenkins with a duck to his name in the following over.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the pitch, the irrepressible Steve made his triumphant return, ready to wreak havoc once more. With precision and panache, he snatched up the wickets of M Nair, trapping him in front LBW for a rapid 17 runs, before sending D Gray packing for a duck, much to the chagrin of the hapless batsman.

As the dust settled and the innings drew to a close, Bredon found themselves at 140-8 off their allotted 35 overs, thanks in no small part to the heroics of Bays bowlers and fielders.

End of inning and Bredon got to 140-8 off 35

Steve Twine: 7 overs 1 maiden 20 runs 3 wickets.

But amidst the excitement, a somber note descended upon the Bays camp as in the shadow of Bredon Hill news of Bernard Hill’s passing reached their ears. In a touching tribute to one of Alex and Toms favourite actor, the haunting strains of “The Ride of Rohirrim” echoed through the air, a poignant prelude to the impending battle on the field.

With determination in their eyes, Steve and Tom strode out to the crease, ready to lay the foundation for a triumphant chase. Gregory, the wily opener for Bredon, proved a formidable adversary, charging in with precision and purpose, never straying too far from off stump. And lo and behold, Harding A (no, not our beloved Alex) at the other end completed the quartet of players vying for early dominance.

As Pritch and Tom sought to rotate the strike and set the scoreboard alight, both found themselves striking a boundary each on their ninth delivery, with Pritch even managing an encore on his tenth. After eight riveting overs, the score stood at a promising 41-0, the opening pair having achieved their initial goal of getting the required runs to below the daunting triple digits.

But then, like a bolt from the blue, Gregory unleashed the delivery of the day—a brilliant ball pitching on middle stump. It lured Pritch forward, only to send his off stump cartwheeling into oblivion. A bittersweet taste of dismissal, where even the departing batsman can’t help but appreciate the sheer brilliance of the delivery. And so, with Steve departing for a modest 9, the stage was set for AVD to join Tom in the fray, the duo ready to continue the chase.

In a display of sheer audacity, Tom unleashed a flurry of boundaries in the preceding over, including a trifecta of fours and a towering six. But alas, the Gregory onslaught proved too much to handle, as both Tom and AVD found themselves bowled out by yet another cunning Gregory bowler. Tom, on the cusp of glory, departed for an impressive 44 (or perhaps 48, depending on whose scorebook you trust), while AVD added a modest 7 to the tally before his untimely demise. Both being bowled to deliveries they’d like to forget as both should have been punished.

The score now 84-3 off 17.

With Michael and George now at the crease, anticipation grew as the dynamic duo unleashed an onslaught of attacking cricket, much to the delight of the hundred (-90) spectators in attendance. George, with his eye firmly set on the prize, blazed a trail with three fiery fours before fate intervened, nicking one to the keeper after a solid 16-run contribution.

But it was Michael who truly stole the show, eschewing the mundane fours in favour of towering sixes that soared high and mighty, disappearing over the hedge with reckless abandon. With two massive blows to his name, he soon found himself caught in the clutches of fate, departing the crease with a respectable 30 runs off as many balls.

As Bays edged closer to their target score, Jamie, in at number six, batted with the calmness of a seasoned sailor, guiding the ship alongside Michael (prior dismissal) towards the coveted victory. With deft strokes and astute shot selection, the pair rotated the strike with finesse, until alas, a valiant attempt to send the ball into orbit saw Jamie’s departure for a modest 5 runs, leaving Bays a tantalizing six runs shy of victory with Soggy and Alex Harding at the helm.

But fear not, dear reader, for victory was within grasp as Soggy flicked a delightful four down to fine leg, followed by a brisk two and the winning runs from the blade of Alex. And thus, with a triumphant flourish, the Mighty Bays clinched their first victory of the season, hopefully signaling the dawn of many more glorious triumphs to come.

Ah, but let us not forget the true essence of the game—the camaraderie, the banter, and the sheer joy that is playing cricket. With each player contributing their unique flair to the proceedings.

A refreshing libation at the clubhouse, followed by another round in Lord Tewksbury’s backyard at the Hop Pole, brought forth a chorus of laughter and merriment. Truly, the season had well and truly begun.

And what adventures await in the weeks to come! Next on the agenda: a showdown with Kingswood Village, where legend has it that last year the indomitable Pritchard almost soiled himself.

Come on the Bays.

Tom 48 off 41 balls. 6 fours 1 six

Michael 30 off 30 balls. 2 sixes.

Holy Trousers!

Not the new logo!

The season of cricket has been thrust upon us all once more, whether we like it or whether we do not. The Bayshill’s very own roving reporter is once more awakened from slumbers within a deep and chill hibernation that has lasted the full distance from the last indoor match until this very moment in time or rebirth as some more of the whimsical would have it. Colonel Mustard my dear fellows is here once more. In his own words, ‘Back with a Bang!’

When I awoke this very morning after a mere nine hours of the dreamless and tried from the off, to push forcibly the old cranium into first gear, there was the sudden grating, clutchless realisation that the Bayshill Cricket Club were on the field of play today. I felt and I feel I need to share this with you, as though I’d been hit with a splendidly well-thrown brick (not a player) to the occipital.

Now as the avid and faithful readers of this electronic Bayshill organ no doubt know, I don’t like to hang about with nonsensical frivolity, but crack on with the cricket. If I let the little grey cells become agitated, I’ll soon be knee-deep in the bisque with the website supremo, will tick me off with no little vim. He can curse better than the best of them, which linguistically seems impossible, but I tell you he can. So here and now, I asseverate solemnly not to leave the straight and narrow from now on and indeed palter with the truth in any way that will damage the reputation of any of the players or indeed any hangers on.

As the attached cricketing themed photographs show, the old Bayshill Cricket Club has as much life in it, as the primeval soup, which David Attenborough seems so keen on. The Goblin Tree Appreciation Society goes from strength to strength with conclusive proof the little so and sos are out and about in greater numbers than ever. Also, the Belgium Beer afficianados of the club have been over the briny to visit said country to drink the stuff in het vats (buckets). Fund raising for a team coach is now concluded and the smart coach stands proudly at the rear of Bayshill House waiting for its first venture. But enough, to the cricket…

Down Hatherley won the toss and decided to put themselves into bat in this 20X fixture. Angus Guthrie and Tom Liley (wearing black trainers and not his new boots) opened the season’s bowling for the Bays, although both have regularly opened in the Indoor League. After six overs the score had climbed to 31, with Angus going for 16 and Tom just 13. A couple of chances were put down in the early part of the match, but the writer in a keen display of diplomacy draws a discreet veil over these. (And to protect any mistakes of his…)

Paul Saunders and Steve Twine (on Bays debut) bowled the next eight with the score up to 79. There were a couple more mistakes in the field, but even so Twine captured his first two wickets for the club, one a catch taken looking into the sun, by Alex Van Dyke and another clean-bowled. Bays’ keeper, Steve L back from injury was left a little bemused (madder than a wet hen) after taking a catch standing up off Steve T that was not given. The batsman, clearly a man of mirth tried to convince those nearby that it was bat and pad. It is best left there as the runs he went to score made the difference in this friendly game.

Beth Pritchard and Alex Van Dyke (wearing black trainers) wrapped up the last six overs, bowling three each and respectively going for 38 and 27. Down Hatherly finished on one gross – 144.

After a quick turnaround, the Bays were batting once more in the sunshine if slightly windy conditions. A buzzard made a sulky flypast disappearing over the pavilion not to return. Norbert the Nobster aka Pierce A and Fran Stirrup began the ascent on the gross score. Pierce batting without his golf ‘buddy’ Chrissos Horner went for just the seven in the second over, out to Brick, whilst Fran who was accumulating his runs at a rate of just less than one per ball ended on 30 not out and retired. Katie Guthrie joined Fran after Nobby’s departure and began to build the innings. Katie departed after 12 overs, bowled by Cripps with the score up to 61.

Steve Pritchard the captain and well-known head teacher at the local Dotheboys Hall, wearing trousers with an extra unsolicited hole in (which he seemed for reasons unknown very proud of), joined Katie for a brief innings of 2 off 9 caught by the flying Brick off O’Brian. The score was now 86 off 15 with still 58 needed. Tom Liley injected a bit of life into the game with 14 off three, including a six that plugged just over the square leg boundary and then two fours. He finished on 24 not out, whilst Alex at the other end, not to be out done smacked 5 fours in a 25 ball innings. The Bays were up to 117, but the overs had run out, as they tend to.

The captain gritted his teeth reservedly, whilst a weaker man would have gnashed them. The Bays aren’t used to losing so early in the season, mainly due to the fact we don’t play due to rain, flooding and generally unhelpful precipitation. The bar provided the revitalising necessities, but the team wasn’t licked to a splinter, so there was no need for self-flagellation of any description. The players buzzed for the gate of car park, like a pack of mustang to speed wildly to The House in The Tree for further restoratives and bracers. Next week will be here soon enough.

Colonel Mustard signs off in high and mettlesome spirits.

Like Quills on the Fretful Porpentine!

This organ of the mighty Bays is reservedly thrilled to welcome back Colonel Mustard to shed light on Match 10, the last indoor game of season 23/4.

Leading up to this final game of the season, for cricket is the focus of this missive, I have to say that there has been just a slight amount excitement pervading those striding upon the pavements of old Chelters. The Honorary President Spike has completed his term of office, a year in fact and this filthy electronic rag as it were, is the first to bring to you the breaking news that he has been replaced by Hoggy the hedgehog – see attached photogravures. The new and highly polished incumbent decided to call upon Alex Van Dyke, the world-renowned Coleopterologist, to ask for a bit of help as she was feeling a bit under the weather. Having been transferred to the Hedgehog Rescue Centre in Brockworth, Hoggy declared her undying support for the Bayshill. The selection committee for the new Honorary President and the Independent Adjudicator (whose identity is top secret) voted unanimously that Hoggy should take up her position with immediate effect, due to the fact that she might curl up her toes and go to meet her maker any moment now. We salute Hoggy and hope for the best – and congratulate A Van Dyke Esq for his medical intervention. There is no truth in the rumour that Mr Van Dyke will be known from now on as Mr Spiky or even Dinsdale,

I’ve still got the lingering smell of Twiglets hanging around in the old nasal orifi! I can’t understand it really, as I haven’t got on the outside of a single Twigoid in the past few months, which will no doubt surprise those of you, who consider this versatile foodstuff to be ‘Food of or for the Gods.’ Professor Ganglion on rubber-stamping my release papers yestreen did suggest that all that electricity flashing about the vicinity of my cranium would have some unexpected side effects, but then you’ve got to take what these dashed brainy blighters say, with a pinch of snuff or something. Devils or wizards I call them, but what the deuce do I know? I’m just your average Jonny going about his innocent daily duties without a care in the world or an axe to grind. Well, when I say without a care, I’m exaggerating to a small degree or modicum even, because if I were to compare myself with the rest of the great unwashed (and as a rule I really don’t like to), I have to report that I’m in possession of the usual worries life bestows upon us all and the assorted headaches that accompany the former. I’ll leave it there though, as I don’t want some clever dickie starting to write to me like some awful agony aunty or uncle to boot.

To the game before we run out of writing pigment. But first, we turn to Achilles who you should know popped off his mortal coil, so it is said when he was in his mid-twenties. He may well have been a real Thessalian warrior, who became mythologised by his semi-literate people, but we’ll never know for sure. However, the cry in the Prince of Wales stadium was unmistakeable. ‘Achilles, Achilles, Achilles!’ the crowd thrice cried. Into the arena strode the said man (or one at least given this moniker by his pals – see attached piccie) in full wicket-keeping apparel. The first time in eight months he had been seen in any cricketing arena – and how missed had he been? (Probably not at all to tell you the truth!) Some wit, or was it gaby or guffin in the crowd shouted Hercules, but then a classical education is a rare

thing in such rustic and bucolic parts of the Empire! (Just ask Old Pritchers aka Wackers, the head of the nearest Dotheboys Hall)

Of course, anyone with an IQ over 23, knows that Hercules was the magnificent horse that pulled Steptoe & Sons’ cart many years ago. Yes, the more learned amongst you will have learned of his twelve labours in your history lessons. Even I, dusting off the cerebellum, remember his first one – Number one – Collect about a ton of rusty scrap iron from around Shepherd’s Bush and so on and so forth. But enough from the rhubarb triangle I hear you cry. But before I move seamlessly on to the willow and leather, I think that that mere mention of the triangle, is a sine of something or other. If I remember correctly from my own school days, when six of the juiciest was still considered to be good form, the sine is equal to the angle of the hippopotamus or something or other. I’m glad I concentrated hard in those unforgiving trigonometry lessons, with my slide rule twitching by my side, always at the ready for combat.

To the cricket I say. But again, I must delay and first turn to the Goblin Tree Society who publish for your scrutiny, a photo of a particularly angry looking tree. Perhaps the tree could foresee the result of tonight’s game. Well, dear reader a tree’s intelligence and psychic powers cannot be underestimated…

The Bayshill were on the plastic or in the field, before you could have read the preamble in this match report. Yes indeed, it was as quick as quick could be. Angus G and Adi R opened the bowling in the absence of Tom Liley who was sidelined by a rather nasty bilious attack. Angus went for 8, and Adi 7, but Rai had Lewis Cook caught out for 6 by his bowling partner Angus. 15 for 1 at the end of the second over. Angus’s second, the third over in all, saw Whitminster regain a bit of composure, with Ollie Greenweig and McGill his new partner put on 14, with a brace of firmly hit fours and a well-placed three. Adi’s next went for just 7 and it looked like the Bays had a reasonable grip on the proceedings.

Spiky Alex and Fran Stirrup not wicket keeping for the first time this season, with the keeping award stitched up and in the bag were the next pair of bowlers. Alex went for just the 5, with Fran being taken for 16, with two sixes, one each from Greenweig and Medcroft. More runs were added in the next two overs (11 & 10), with the score up to 78.

The next over saw the Bays take two wickets, Steve Liley stumping Lee Medcroft one-handed off a bouncer for 18 off Alex and then Horner running out Whitminster’s captain, keeper and number 6, Jim Hyland with a throw to Liley who removed the bails whilst turning 180 degrees. (See above trigonometry for help)

Nine overs gone and the score now a respectable 89. Fran’s third over was targeted well by returning opener Greenweig, before Fran exacted his revenge with Alex taking the catch. With the century passed in just 10, Hyland’s team pushed on. Adi bowled the penultimate over for 5 and Angus the same, but with two run outs as Whitminster accelerated towards the line. Rai and Stirrup completing the proceedings, with the fifth and sixth wicket, the latter falling on the very last ball and the score now up to 115. Throughout the innings, it must be

said, that lots of catching chances were given, but the ball seemed determined to avoid the Bays’ players, by bouncing in very unpredictable ways off the walls and ceiling.

Bays climbed to the balcony to strap on pads and other things in preparation for an assault on the mountain Whitminster had somewhat unexpectedly manufactured.

Things began to unravel quickly for the Bays however, with Horner caught on the last ball of the first over, with 7 on the board. Rai, chasing the highest run scoring trophy, scored the two he needed, but he also disappeared to the balcony on the last ball of over number two. (Alas, little did he know that Greensweig had overtaken the number of runs he needed with his knock of 45 in Whitminster’s innings)

Fran Stirrup and Alex Van Dyke moved the score along steadily, if not spectacularly between overs 2 and 8, with Stirrup retiring before the ninth with two maximums and three fine sausages (see previous reports for definition). Helliwell bowling over number nine took three wickets, which put the final nail in Bays’ rapidly deflating balloon, if you can put a nail in a balloon! Van Dyke, Liley and Guthrie all departed for 9, 1, 9 respectively. Fran faced Medcroft with just his wicket left in-tact, knowing that he had just 18 balls to achieve the fifty or so needed for victory.

Fran is a decent sort of chap and knew that the lads in the balcony were chafing at the bit to get into their chariots and head off to the Rotunda for a few bracers and a little stocious behaviour, so he did the decent thing and got himself out of this embranglement by being caught on the very next ball. Three cheers to him we say and indeed did so!

To finish, I feel I have covered the pertinent facts required, like the skin on a sausage and conclude this encomium, by saying the end is here, but for the presentation evening this Thursday evening. Sadly, this last Bays performance saw a potential clean sweep of awards for batting, bowling, fielding and wicket-keeping reduced to just the one trophy. Congratulations to Fran Stirrup for picking up the gloves and taking the Keeping award for Division Three with 7 stumpings and a couple of run outs. Fran is the first person in the club to win two awards from different categories. He now has one for Fielding and one for Keeping! We raise our glasses to you Fran! Pip pip old boy!

Bayshill Left Massaging the Coconut

Cheltenham Cricket Club

Colonel Mustard is still stymied by the same unforgiving and prolonged attack of the vapours, that saw him side-lined as long ago as two weeks. Snuff partaking Ivor Hugh J Thurston is reluctantly back in harness to relate to you, the indoor cricketing activities of the ninth Bays’ indoor match, whilst simultaneously trousering a nifty number of counterfeit greenbacks, which he’ll no doubt fritter away on snifters bounteous and various in dens of iniquity the length and breadth of this sceptred isle of ours.

Plumbing is not what most cricketing reports start with. In fact, I’d like to bet a fiver or even a tenner at 100 to 1 or more, with you the blessed reader, that the last time you saw a Test Match report, in The Times, it didn’t start with references to ballcocks, traps, grey water or other such intriguing stuff but ultimately boring claptrap. However, now that I’ve ‘whetted’ (tiny pun there, do keep up please!) your appetite with a smallish nosegay for the liquid side of DIY as it were, I’ll have to prise open the debate on imperial or metric systems when applied to waste pipes and so on. It’s just like cricket really, where all the important and necessary things are measured in good old Imperial Units, but other lesser things, such as the distance to the boundary or the carry of a big six, are usually estimated or measured in those appalling metric numbers.

Now that I have started on this plumbing malarkey, I feel hide-bound to press on until the urge had completely dissipated and blue skies once more reappear; I continue, dishwashing machines are like cricketers in so many ways. There are good ones that are energy efficient, average ones and downright bloody awful ones, which require the electrical input from Windscale and at least three other dirty nuclear power stations. Some are noisy and brash and flamboyant, and others just do the job without any warbled song or spat-tapping tap dance. There are grossly large ones, insignificant small ones and indeed slimline ones, but the one thing that all have in common with the Bays’ players, is that they are all fed well and provided with copious liquids and to boot, have extremely well or even over used waste pipes, if you get my now somewhat drifting metaphorical allegory or was it simile?

I’ll let you the reader decide which player resembles what type of machine. Of course, there are players, like these machines who think they are better than they are, just like the five star ratings slapped on the sides of them, but enough of such dark and malicious intrigue. We all know who ‘they are’ and they bally well better watch out, before they have their hoses disconnected or, dare I say severed for good. Onwards I say…

The mighty Bays won the toss as would be expected by Alex Bertie Van Dyke. The double-headed coin has proved its worth, even if the two year wait and amount the club shelled out on Ebay to Wun Hung Lo, the infamous Chinese vendor, makes the eyes more than water.

Cheltenham CC got off to a surprisingly poor start, thanks to quick work by Adi Rai in the leg corner near the batsman. Indeed, with just a single run on the board, R Saye was run out and back in the balcony before he could even face a ball. Tom Liley’s first over went for a miserly 4 before Adi Rai’s first two deliveries yielded a further two dots. M Rahman suddenly waking up smashed the next two for four and six respectively. Tom bowled the

third for 9 and then Adi again for the same. However, Adi had the improving Rahman caught out by Tom Liley for 18. 4 overs down for 34, but with two out.

Alex Van Dyke and Angus Guthrie took over the bowling duties both going for 14 in each of their overs. The balcony was surprisingly quiet, with just the Right Honourable Chairman and Sidelined Keeper looking forlornly on. No hint of Norman the canine Bays supporter who rumour has it, is called Ace in canine circles, or was it Gladiators? No matter, the woofer wasn’t there. Alex then went for just three, having found his rhythm and Angus 7 in the next pair of overs, but S Prayash had in Alex’s over been caught out well by Angus – see video evidence. The score now 72 after 8 overs. Alex then had the mysteriously called W S-C caught out by Tom Liley, with the score up to 77. Stirrup joined in the fun stumping P Timmaraju for just the single off 8 leaving with the score past 80. N Thomas, who had reached his 25, by now returned to try and bring the score near a ton, but to his dismay, he was well run out by Guthrie, to conclude the innings.

Bays fielded and bowled well, but even so, were a little unlucky with bounces and the odd pressurised fumble. Cheltenham, the leaders in the division, must have been surprised to have been dismissed all out on the second ball of the tenth over.

In no time at all the Bays batsmen made their entrance. The order of the day was slow and steady, not because the openers were reluctant to get going, but more, due to the fact, that Cheltenham bowled accurately with more than a hint of hostility. Rai, unexpectedly went fifth ball for just 2, caught well by the keeper Thomas off a glove. Stirrup then was hung out to dry by Chris, who having played forward looked like he was setting off for a quick single, only to change his mind in a blink. Poor old Fran on just one run, couldn’t get the momentum quelled after backing up well and was left four or five yards adrift. After three overs, it was 11 for 2. Chris Horner continued to plug away with Alex Van Dyke, moving the score slowly upwards. R Saye and M Rahman bowled the fifth and sixth for 2 and 1 respectively, putting pressure on the batsmen as the required run rate climbed like Joe Brown in his heyday. Alex Van Dyke retired on 26 off 24 with a brace of fours, but Chrissos had by then been run out for 18 off 28.

With the overs disappearing like scran before a trencherman, Tom Liley and Angus Guthrie tried to push for the score of 89. However, after 8 overs the score was not quite half that required. Tom made 1 off 2 and Angus 9 off 10. Over 9 saw 11 runs, raising hopes a little, but the bowling was of good quality and not even the slightest finger of opprobrium could be pointed at any of the batsmen for not getting a shifty on. The Bays finished on 72 for 3, 17 runs short. A good effort and a hearty round of applause for the Bays for their efforts, as it wasn’t as if they’d been licked, to a splinter.

Back in The Rotunda the heart of the team, all incidentally athirst, met up to chew the fat and whatever else needed chewing before heading off into the Gloucestershire fresh air. Chris Horner showed a mighty touch of speed as his pint disappeared quicker than ferret up a well-placed drainpipe. Bays play their last indoor game on this coming Monday. Remember you read it here first. Paste that in your hat! Oh and before I sign off, I’ve heard that the electric shocks applied to Colonel Mustard’s cranium have been having some positive effects, apart from draining the national grid of all its dried grapes or was it currants.

Angus fizzes one down!
Angus diving like a salmon for a catch!

Bays Full of Cheer and Blitheringness!

Colonel Mustard is not available this week due to a nasty bout of the vapours. He has for his own well-being been returned by Professor Ganglion, the reputed Nerve Specialist, to the much spoken about Greater Wittering Sanatorium for the rusty and seriously unhinged. Instead at very short notice we are delighted to welcome back Ivor Hugh J Thurston for a very small and it must be said, miserly fee.

What Ho fellow Bayshillians! I’m delight-headed to be back in the Bays’ bosom and reporting on a triumph that could in World War I terms be described as A1, although some of the players are decidedly C3s to be sure.

I’m not going to mince things here and babble on about sausages or mustard from Tenerife or indeed any such things that could not be considered worthy for a cricketing report. I’m not even going to reference birthdays, Belgium Beers and Eric the Bays supporting quadruped and his petrified mastodon friend perched on Bredon Hill. No, there will be no nonsense, no verbose haberdashery, no silliness and not even a swipe or swish of the cane to upset the outdoor Captain on the Good Ship Bayshill. No, nothing, not even a single reference to The Beaver Inn in Appledore or was is Bananadore? No matter to the report I say!

Cheltenham Civil Service won the toss and decided to put themselves into bat, which to be completely frank with you, isn’t cricket. Ben Gaskin taking things seriously, made steady progress, whilst his partner, A Bates unlike his namesake, didn’t deliver. Indeed, Bates receiving a first class delivery from Guthrie A Esq was run out well by Tom Liley, with the score at the end of the third over 22. Gaskins and Smith moved the score along steadily, if not riotously. Gaskins moved back to the balcony with his wicket intact, to be replaced by captain Alastair Maxwell, who finished with 21, carrying his bat.

Angus G, Adi and Tom and Adi again bowled the sixth to nineth overs and it could be argued, that it was here the match was won. 4, 3, 4 and 5 coming from them, throttling any momentum CCCS had. Smith was run out by Stirrup in the 9th over, whilst the next over saw both Sugurs depart with the score on 68. Gaskins returned to join Maxwell and they managed to push the score up considerably in the last two overs. Fran Stirrup passing the keeping gloves surprisingly to Chris Horner bowled the last over, which went for 25, but saw the dexterous aspiring dancing keeper Horner remove the bails via Guthries’s throw to see Gaskin spoil his average.

Bays in reply went for the throat, with 15 coming off the first over, including three 3s! Adi seemingly had an important engagement he had to attend. He retired on just the 8 balls (just one shy of Van Dyke A’s record of 7), including two fours and two sixes. Chris was run out for 7, in exactly the same way as the week before, but with Adi scoring so quickly, there seemed little to worry about. Fran was run out in the sixth over for 11, but importantly Alex Van Dyke made a rapid 27 off just thirteen. Tom added just three, before Guthrie joined adi at the end to help wrap things up. Adi moved his score to 33 not out and put himself at the top of the chart for the division’s leading run scorers.

The result pushes Bays up to second in the league table, but that is of no consequence as the Bays is a Wednesday team seemingly.

Revels and pints were seen in The Rotunda before the players and the thousands of supporters thronged their weary way home, with more than a little rannygazoo!

Cultured Van Dyke (bbbbbBertie)
Angus lets rip!

Bays Migrating South (in the table) for Winter!

St phillip's Street North

With the Yuletide activities over and once more carefully packed into the lumber room of Memory Lodge, Old Moutarde returns for your pleasure or otherwise, as your breathless kerricketing correspondent for another year’s jolly japes.

Having awoken after nine hours of the dreamless, I thought I’d be better placed to report on the mighty Bays’ latest engagement. Well, I’m dashed that I must say I’m not, mainly due to the shenanigans that happened to unravel yestereve.

With the troops assembled in goodish time at the freezing point d’appui, the spectators were in no time at all grasping that they were not put in this world for pleasure only. Indeed, if they had dared to imagine that the Bays were in for a snip, at this cryogenic cricketing contest, they were soon to realise that they were to be offered nothing but meagre rations of disappointment instead. The right-honourable Chairman and this dishonourable writer, were massaging their respective cokernuts in melancholic disbelief and in due course, heading full steam ahead for the exits, as some blighters had seemingly pilfered the lifeboats some considerable time earlier.

Fortunately, after three consecutive losses, Mustard here, had wisely decided not to put his chemise on a glorious win for this fixture. This streak as some wit had whispered crackling-throatedly in the balcony wasn’t going to bring home the Div 3 bacon. This Bayshillian Slough of Despond won’t last long though, I tell you (as nothing but my friend); the bally players will have their double funnel nostril tunnels lodged in the Trough of The Rotunda, before you can say in a falsetto, nay mezzo-soprano tone, ‘You’re a pork sausage!’ This of course brings me neatly to the salient point – if you’ve got your back to wall, you need to go back to the Walls. More, yes indeed, more sausages the balcony demands! Yes, that’s right, let me spell it out for you, more threes please, even if they have a piquant suicidal flavour to them. As an old friend I knew a lifetime ago, in the heart of Yorkieland, old Bratford if you need to know, once told me earnestly, ‘Faint heart never,’ did something quite unimaginable to ‘a pig!’ They don’t, I’ll go to foot of our stairs, mince their, put wood ‘ith hole, words up there, even if they do mince their sausages. Now, where the dicky deuce was I! Ah, the bally report.

High up in the balcony, which for the first time ever I believe,contained a nattily dressed Bayshill supporting mutt named I have it on very good authority, Wackford Squeers after its owner’s father. Alex of theVan Dyke persuasion lost the toss with a loaned Elizabethan florin. And so it was, that the Bays had to set a score that only the prescribed half of St. Phillip’s had to chase. (The designated North half and nothing below this community’s belt or equator as it were)

The scoring rate for the Bays in the first four overs was not quite spectacular, but promised more, with no wickets lost. The second over bowled by L Sprigmore went for 10, but this included four 4 wides and was to be prove to be his last contribution with the ball. With our four-legged friend watching closely from its elevated position, on came the aptly named Curr to bowl. He didn’t take a wicket, but A Sprigmore ran out Chris Horner to the St.P’s delight.

The score was now 33 and the fifth over gone. L Sprigmore then did his bit for the Bays by also bowling 4 wides, one of which evaded the keeper and a no ball to boot. Extras once again, were seemingly helping the Bays along its merry way. F Rose enjoying the sub-zero temperatures bowled Fran Stirrup for just 8 off 14, in the eighth over, the score up to 59. Adi Rai, Bays best batsman this year retired to the doggy haven with a six, a three and a four off his last three deliveries. Alex Bertie Van Dyke made six off 8 before being caught by the cunningly canine named Curr. Tom Liley then hit a quick 10 off six, including two fours. Guthrie playing to the audience (well at least one of them + sartorial mutt) crashed 14 off 7, with also two fours and a 3, a 2 and a single.

Adi now back in, wasted no time in helping the score along with a single followed by a pack of four fine sausages (3s). The Bays had made 102 with the help of 13 extras, Adi being the standout batsman!

St. Phillip’s North made a reply that mirrored the Bays’ innings almost exactly up to the end of the fourth over. Just 22 off Tom Liley and Adi Rai, but importantly two wickets down. Alex Van Dyke caught A Sprigmore well off Rai and Rose run out by Chrissos Horner. The Bays were in with a sniff (appreciated in the balcony). Guthrie went for six in the fifth over with the score just 28 for 2. The next two overs saw the run rate take off with Bignall and L Sprigmore deciding it was time to move things along. Alex went for 17 and then Angus for 13 and effectively the game was now there for St. P’s to win. Alex returned bravely for the next over and bowled his six for just three, which included two wides, on of which eluded keeper Stirrup. An rare over with no runs off the bat. Angus then went for 12 ending an unusually expensive spell for him. Adi returned to go for sixteen but in so doing had L Sprigmore caught by Guthrie. The Bays had lost, but it was reasonably close.

St. Phillips’ N had won, by being better in most departments on the night. The Bays needed to get a shifty on, a bit more in the early overs and possibly have used Tom Liley in the 8th or 9th over, with his economy rate on the night being the most respectable.

The Chairman and other assorted human and canine spectators alike looked down on the team gravely and wondered somewhat moribundly where all the oojah cum spliff had gone.

In The Rotunda, a full pint of beer left the table by its own accord between the Bays two keepers. Neither flinched, until the beer had tsunamied its way over Steve L’s trizers and then Fran realised that t’was his pint that had departed quicker than tonight’s hope for a Bayshill victory.