David Beresford
ANOTHER COUNTRY
The Chief Chief,
House of Lords
c/o Cricket Ground,
Marylebone,
Great Britain,
Overseas
URGENT AND IN YE UTMOST CONFIDENCE
Dear Chief Lord and/or Chief Lady,
We write to acquaint you with a dread Affliction which has befallen the Spirit of the Game, the said game being Ye Olde Sporte of Cricket as it is played in the far-flung corners of Ye ancient Empire including this one.
We write to you in the First Instance in humble Recognition of the Sacred Role arising from your direct descent from the Original Shepherd who, casting a Ball of woollen fluff at his/her brother/sister standing before yonder Wicket Gate, didst cry out “Howzat!” to which, as Holy Doctrine doth inform us, a Voice didst reply from the Heavens “Not out!” much to the derision of spectators and demands for a Second Opinion (which hath been since granted and extended even unto a Third Opinion with no doubt Further Opinions to come).
As is well Known, if not often Spoken about in your clammy regions, the Great Game (to put a Shortehand, for Brevity’s sake, upon its noble entitlement as ye Worshipful Art of Cricket) was greatly welcomed by our Peoples upon the discovery that Albion’s fair children were not as adept with the Willow (which artifact didst replace thine early Crook) as with the maxim gun. This superiority, perhaps borne of our early practice of the Game with ye coconuts, unripened Citrus fruits and conveniently-rounded rocks rather than your balls of Fluff, enabled us to inflict many a massacre upon Ye expeditionary Teams, not to mention those Testes of ability endeavoured between floodes in Yonder neck of the woodes.
These one-sided feats of Arms becoming somewhat Tiresome to the people of ye former, imperial Domains the tradition grew out of Cricket, initially in distant Curried partes, whereby Sundry spectators could pass the Time pitching their wages, Mortgages and the income from the sale of their Offspring into enslavement on the result, as well as the Intermediate outcome of various Aspects of the Great game.
This was self-evidently much to the Apparent befuddlement of Ye lords and various ladies in Gentle attire, more used to snores from ye Stands than the huge and Excited crowdes gathered around the Sacred pitch in hither and thither Warmer climes. Although this was clearly a Departure from Tradition it was well judged that such enhanced Publik interest could only be to the advantage of the Sporte, not to mention ye High officials reduced to supplicants by Virtue of the reckless Spending of their Noble estates.
Alack and/or alas there has lately been certain rude departures in this connection from the very rules and regulations which underwrite the Integrity of ye Great sporte. This destructive trend was First made apparent in the fury of mobs in such as Bangalore when Ye high priests charged with the Good conduct of the Game waved their fingers in a way Consistent not with the natural senses, being explicable only by a Fit of madness or a new BMW in the Blessed umpire’s backyard. Hideous to say, the Perverse practice seems to have o’er-leaped the sacred Boundary and to have infected the very Players of the Game.
It is with Hesitation that we relate the Awful heresy which has descended Among us, appreciating as we do the innocence of ye English Yeomen arising from ye handicap in throwing a Match, it being difficult to persuasively Discard what you cannot hope to attain. So the temptation fell upon the Shoulders of those of us on whom the mantle of Victory more easily sits.
As is often Sadly the case the first of all to fall was the Greatest of the good, the Captain of our side who was seen to talk on various and partikular Occasion in furtive fashion with his fellow batsmen when once upon the field. The sinister nature of these various Communications being discovered by secretive Means, our once Blessed captain (oh! shame of shames) was put to Publik torture and to general Consternation did forthrightly confess.
Without resort to sundry Ghastly detail it does we hope suffice to summarise his Blaspheming story as follows: That Satan with his crooked tail full hidden didst one day Lure him up to the highest tier o’er-looking the far-flung Arena of our game. And there didst the Evil one with devilish cunning make Gesture and offered all that lay below, adding “and then some, sonny” in further profane contempt for our sporte’s intrinsic rewards and riches.
We will a curtain call over the remainder of this Sore sorrowful saga, except to say it greased the Way to a cruelly unfair advantage by way of putting all on the sacred game.
And so we Petition you with regard to this small Matter to make a minor amendment to ye Laws of our great sport. In addition to the popish Bull late forthcoming, which demands due reverence for the Spirit of the Game amd the Captain’s rule in furtherance thereof, we would Respectfully petition that all players who, brandishing the Willow of the batsman’s authority, venture upon the sacred fields, do initially Retire unto small cabins situated for discretion’s sake at either end of the sacred chain. And there he will full Confession make, the outcome of which, to the extent it has a Bearing on the odds, will be piped Aloft by means of a small chimney, a puff of smoke full black, or white in Testimony as to the current State of purity of the one now within. Whereupon the game may then Proceed with those Without full satisfied that the First commandment of our holy teaching be well met, that the pitch upon which we Sporte shall at all times be flat.
Yours in Shared devotion to the Holy Game
(illegible)
The Secretary
South African Chapter
Cricket Cargo Cult
c/o The Postmaster,
Isandlwana
PS If you are in these parts again for a rematch, don’t forget the duty free this time. The frustration of expectations when we broke open your ammunition boxes to discover not a whiff of Scotch within had much to do with things turning ugly last time around.