Make it stop

I watched the first session of the day accompanied by my snoring dad until his false teeth fell out so I poured him into his bed at the lunch break and returned to sit in the dense fog that he’d left behind (note to self – don’t give him parsnips next year). By the time we got to the tea break I was pretty much all in myself so decided to call it a day. I’d seen Fat Boy get his 700th wicket so at least I hadn’t missed that.

I remember thinking as I drifted off that I shouldn’t be worrying. “We’re 117-4 with KP and Freddie at the crease”, said my subconscious mind. “You’ll wake up tomorrow and we’ll have 250 on the board”. However I guess that years of being a Brentford supporter as well as an England cricket fan have taken their toll. As I drifted off to sleep on the sofa, there seemed to be something else hanging in the atmosphere other than the toxic cloud of parsnip packed poo particles. It was that ever so familiar air of inevitability.

Needless to say that when I got my first opportunity to check teletext today that I was not surprised to see that The Bees had lost 4-1 at home and that England had managed to add just 42 runs for the final 6 wickets.

Ho Ho bloody Ho. Happy sodding Christmas.

Oh well, putting the cricket to one side, I hope you had a good Christmas and received lots of really useful presents. I got some socks and a novelty calendar about poo so at least the prizes for the sweepstake are taken care of.

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