Colonel Mustard is back, yes dear reader, he’s back from his enforced holiday in a most secret location and now he politely lets the world know what’s wrong and a little of what’s right, concerning the happenings of the modern day. Hurrah we all say! With monocle screwed in, as far, as is decent, in polite company and with ancient, prickly tweeds still bearing the indelible stains of recent triumphs and indeed conflicts, he reflects on recent devastating events almost calmly, considering the tumultuous storm that rages continuously within his cranium, with gargantuan balloon glass of brandy swirling vigorously in one hand.
Firstly, let’s start this bally thing properly. I’d like to thank young Hugh Jardon for his considered offering last week, to this, the mouthpiece of the mighty Bayshill. It’s a great solace to all and sundry, whether dead or alive, that such a worthy wordsmith may step Henry V like, ‘unto the breach’ when called upon and at the shortest possible notice. Quite remarkable, I think you’d agree. Hats off! Now, I write this in somewhat hushed tones*, my paparazzi colleagues, yes I know it’s hard to believe, but please bear with me, got wind of a certain Hugh Jardon’s birthday party last week. The first published photos of Hugh ‘The Pirate’ Jardon and some of his friends are attached for your delectation. The evening was a raucous affair with friends assembling at Harry Belafonte’s Deya brewery. Sadly, there is no truth that the Bays will be singing The Banana Boat song before their games from now on. Here though, is the song in case you wish to exercise your vocal chords the next time you visit the brewery or indeed your bathroom.
Deya, deya Deyalight come and we want go home Deya, is a deya, is a deya, is a deya, is a deya, is a deya-o Deyalight come and we want go home
Work all night on a drink of rum (Deyalight come and we want go home) Stack banana ’til the morning come (Deyalight come and we want go home)
Come Mister tally man, tally me banana (Deyalight come and we want go home) Come Mister tally man, tally me banana (Deyalight come and we want go home)
Lift six foot, seven foot, eight foot bunch (Deyalight come and we want go home) Six foot, seven foot, eight foot bunch (Deyalight come and we want go home)
Deya, is a dey-a (Deyalight come and we want go home) Deya, is a deya, is a deya, is a deya, is a deya, is a deya-o (Deyalight come and we want go home)
A beautiful bunch of ripe banana (Deyalight come and we want go home) Hide the deadly black tarantula (Deyalight come and we want go home)
Lift six foot, seven foot, eight foot bunch (Deyalight come and we want go home) Six foot, seven foot, eight foot bunch (Deyalight come and we want go home)
Deya, is a deya-o (Deyalight come and we want go home) Deya, is a deya, is a deya is a deya, is a deya, is a deya-o (Deyalight come and we want go home)
Come Mister tally man, tally me banana (Deyalight come and we want go home) Come Mister tally man, tally me banana (Deyalight come and we want go home)
Deya-o, deya-o (Deyalight come and we want go home) Deya, is a deya, is a deya, is a deya, is a deya, is a deya-o (Deyalight come and we want go home)
Some readers, or possibly the odd reader** may have realised that I was missing last week and might like to know that I stayed in none other than Ivor Hugh J Thurston’s secret hideaway in Coniston. It’s so secret in fact that he has a slate plaque attached to the wall of this abode, testifying as to how top secret it is. Very, very clever chap. Secret in plain sight, I’d never have thought of that.
Now however, I’d like to point out that every time I happen to turn my blessed back on the Bays’ goings on and indeed the wider shenanigans of society, every bloody thing (scuse my French) seems to go to hell in a handcart. Can’t I trust you, dear reader, to take care of our club and this powerhouse country of ours, whilst I take much a needed brief respite, from the quill-related vicissitudes inflicted on this poor overworked individual? It appears that each and every time, I dare lay down that much-used, sharpened goose feather, either a new monarch is ensconced, a new prime minister or two is appointed, the pound plunges yet further against the Rwandan Franc, or dare I say it, more important still, the Bays register a lose in the indoor league. It is as though I’ve taken enough strong hallucinogens from freshly-picked Fly Agarics to go completely of my rocker; doolally if you like. Can I really believe all this nonsensical nonsense? Is it really true that Rishi ‘Eat out to Help out’ Sunak is to be king and David Tennant is to be the new Prime Minister or was it captain? Who, you say? Don’t trifle with me now reader. You’re not making too much sense now.
There is indeed, as I’m sure you the intellectual reader has noticed, a fine hair-like line or is it crack, between the realms of reality and that other mysterious place, where Bays players are prone to venture now and again and I’m not sure, due to current events, which of these kingdoms I’m currently being forced to stand on. It sadly reminds me of the long (and happily) gone Bays drug addict, who a few years ago, unwittingly sallied forth, north, all the way to Blackpool to see the Hallucinations. I’m not completely sure what happened to that poor crazed individual, but a little dickie-bird informs me that he’s alive and well and believe it or not, living on the Beaver Moon, somewhere at the resort of Tycho-on-Sea on the Mare Tranquillitatis. Lucky devil he is, I say, think of all that lovely loony cheese!
Now, on a more sober note, we must as a club pull together though and not let any in-fighting destroy our chances of scaling the peak of Division Three or was it the next election? Yes indeed, (I can ‘hear’ your thoughts) the members, whether enclosed or upright, must have their say, but it is in my most humble opinion, up to the ‘old bastions’ (and we have quite a
few of those I can tell you) to make the difference and choose what is right for the club and indeed this unsullied emerald isle of ours. This, I stress isn’t some meaningless frivolous political election with or without its mundane protocols. What happens to and within this club has far-flung ramifications that may with a light touch of skulduggery or even a fair wind behind, spread as far as the Malvinas or to be more geographically precise, The Malverns.
Where was I? Ah yes, before I describe the Bays’ latest game, I need to say that some anonymous japer has been monkeying around again and scurrilously put forward the idea that on next year’s Isles of Scilly tour, the Bays’ players must wear lederhosen. See attached photograph of Bays’ new player ‘Crazy Chimp’ geared up and ready for said action! When asked about this, standing outside Bayshill House in glorious sunshine, a well-dressed spokesman for the club, with a startlingly bright red rose adorning the button-hole of his hacking jacket, said the official line was, that it was to be nothing more than the same old Pith helmets taken on the 2022 Isles of Scilly tour. His exact words, spoken verbatim dear reader, being, ‘You’re taking the pith, the pith and nothing but the pith, you is!’
When pressed on news of next year’s Scilly Tour of 23, he flatly refused to comment on the rumour that an alternative ‘rebel’ tour of Rwanda had been put forward by several of the players. It seems that with the pound plunging so rapidly against the Rwandan Franc and with the incentive of government supplied free aeroplanes, this tour like Paul McCartney, had ‘wings.’ Also, unusually, the need for passports has been waived. Football teams such as Arsenal and PSG are cashing in on lucrative sponsorship deals with the Rwandan government, so why not the Bays? The spokesman removing his sola topee helmet muttered under his breath seemingly to himself, ‘Pith off.’
So to the game itself, before I can be accused of rambling on like some demented Cornish cove.
Talk on the street, in the expensive hairdressers, in the nail bars, in the sushi outlets, in Poundland, in the 99p shop, in the pubs (Spoons included) and restaurants of Cheltenham had been who would line-up to represent the mighty Bays this week, against Cheltenham Civil Service CC. Well, in the event Bays had the equivalent of a wardrobe malfunction and fielded just five. Now as any of you know, to be a man light, in the outside format makes things a little tricky, but when this happens indoors, it is as near to impossible to compete as is possible, if that makes sense!
For the fourth match in a row the Bays took to the field or should I say rubbery plastic flooring of The Prince of Wales Cricket Stadium. The balcony or viewing area seems to have been forgotten by the staff of the said hall, as detritus from weeks, possibly months decorated the floor in a manner that may have been the work of Tracey Emin.
Tom (The Pirate) Liley bearing a remarkable resemblance to Hugh The Pirate Jardon and Ajit Singh in for his first game opened the bowling with aplomb. All right, it was a ball, but they did it very well! In fact, in the very first over which went for a miserly 2 runs, Fran ‘The Daddy’ Stirrup ran out V Sigur for a duck. Things couldn’t have started better and continued in this vein until the end of the fourth over, when only 20 runs had been posted on the board.
With the bowling change made, Chelts Civil Service decided that attack was the only way. Bates made 29 not out, finishing his knock with an ostentatious six, which seemed to lay down a marker that CCSCC weren’t going to succumb to the dog whelks of the division. Laksman was LBW to Stirrup in his second over, but Maxwell A and B Gaskin didn’t appear to care, plundering runs like greedy children in a free pick and mix store. Maxwell retired only to be replaced by Attwood, who went about his business with a serious rapidity. The runs were leaking all over the hall, in the moving area which had been created by the shortage of fielders. More leaks here than old Tudory houses, some unkind wit managed from the refuse store, that ingeniously doubles as a balcony. Tom Liley and Ajit returned to bowl the last two overs, but by now the batsman’s eyes had lit up brighter than a Morgan-Keenan O star. Yes, dear reader and that is bright I can tell you! A total of 133 runs were posted, with cricket buffs wondering how many runs less the CCSCC would have achieved against a full side. 25 was the considered answer!
Bays went into bat with something to prove. I’m not sure what it was, but they did so anyway. Fran Stirrup and Ajit (who arrived without a box) opened the batting and took the score to 66 after 6 overs. A great start and almost exactly half way to the total in half the overs. What fun!
However, things were to take a turn for the worse. Ajit was caught by Maxwell off Attwood’s bowling and at the end of the seventh over it was 69 for 1. Suddenly the total looked as though it was going to be more difficult to achieve. Alex Van Dyke made a rapid 14, including one sumptuous six over the bowler’s head. Tom Liley replaced Stirrup who retired having made his 25. Alex 57 Van Dyke went caught by Attwood off Bates, to be replaced by Steve Liley. Steve tried for the back wall in vain, being blocked a couple of times by good fielding. Tom did the same to be blocked this time by Steve at the non-strike end and by the stumps in front of the umpire. 7 runs lost inexplicably. Steve then went, caught Sugur off Attwood for 6. Tom Liley continued to plunder runs like Bluebeard as did Fran who had returned for his second bash. Attwood’s tight bowling at the end helped CCSCC over the line, leaving the Bays exactly 25 runs adrift. The Bays made 108 for 4, their highest score this season. Fran was run out late for 28, whilst like any good pirate, Tom carried his bat for 25.
Players retreated to The Rotunda to chew the fat, drink cider, beer and lagery stuff and ponder what might have been. In a parallel universe, a cricket team called Bayshill CC were also in a pub called ‘The Rotunder’. The six (note 6) players were on a planet very like the Earth, revolving around one of Morgan-Keenan’s O stars. They were raising their plastic engraved drinking goblets and waving their antennae about whilst toasting another fine victory in Division Three of Cheesenham Cricket League in the Prince of Twigletsville Stadium. They were top of their table and going for promotion!
*It took years of sustained practice to achieve the impossible of writing in hushed tones. This organ suggests no-one attempts this at home as it will inevitably lead to a general election or other such uncalled for activity
** readers of this twaddle are more than likely to be odd…
All players at the club wish Chris Horner a speedy recovery and hope to see him in his whites doing what he does best. (Drinking Abbot in the pub after a good game!)