Playing God's own game

I’m confident they play the game in heaven. Wouldn’t be heaven otherwise, would it?

Patrick Moore said that, about cricket. Already a legend, statements like that can only enhance your status as a national treasure. Whatever you believe, it’s nice to imagine him enjoying another innings somewhere where the game is played.

Jim Jarmusch, whose films are beautiful to watch, said: Cricket makes no sense to me. [Well (A) he’s American, so there you go, and (B) after years of participation, players can still struggle in making sense of it]. I find it very beautiful to watch and I like that they break for tea. That is very cool.

Cool. See? One of the coolest film directors thinks cricket is cool. How cool is that?

It has been said that cricket resembles organised loafing. Not the way we play it, it doesn’t. There’s no ‘organised’ about it. Shambolic, uncoordinated, ad hoc loafing. That’s our speciality. It has also been described as the only game you can put weight on while playing. Can’t argue with that, really. The ethos of the game is less finely tuned athlete and more Fatty Gatting. As Botham said of the barmaid scandal: “It couldn’t’ve been Gatt. Anything he takes up to his room after nine o’clock, he eats.” And of the Shane Warne ‘wonderball’ that wiped him up, Gooch said “if it’d been a cheese roll it’d’ve never got past him”.

Legendary off-the-wall Acrington Stanley fan (York City tweeted yesterday to tip everyone off: if the North Koreans nuked the world killing everyone, then their game against Acrington Stanley today would be off) David Lloyd said of someone: “if he’s a test match bowler, my backside’s a fire engine.” Little wonder he’s a Half Man Half Biscuit fan.

Yusef Lateef

I’m listening to Eastern Sounds. Right now. Beautiful, spiritual, funky jazz. Can’t sit still.

Livercakes blew up my blender

Be kind to animals, and the domestic appliance gods sneer at you. Dogs love livercake. Liver, eggs and milk safely loaded into the blender. Couple of pulses, fine. On the low setting, and I grabbed a mixing bowl and tinfoil from the cupboard. Ten seconds at most. Long enough for the motor to make some horrible noises and the base unit to chuck out clouds of smoke.

The blender went in the bin, the liver mix, with the flour beaten in, went into the oven.

BLISS thinks Newboy’s going to be trainable, because he’s food oriented. No wonder Naomi Campbell and Kate Moss are so out of control. Equally, that’s why us fat blokes are so easy-going and compliant.