It was so hot you could have fried an egg on Breeaally’s head.

Oh, how we prayed Elvis would win the toss – typically Pilgrim, he didn’t. Despair in the ’Grim camp, swiftly followed by elation as the hosts, remarkably (bizarrely? – ed), opted for a punishing session in the field.

The Meerkat and The Andy Roberts strode out to bat to reprise their infamous previous encounter. An opening stand of more than 20 followed. It was undoubtedly dull – or “carefully compiled” perhaps? Apart from the Llama of course – has anyone ever seen a forward defensive miss played with such a flourish? Then Daisy fell to the finger of death from Whisper – the plummest lbw in history.

TAR was joined by the Camp Colonel who dispatched the ball “to all corners” (TM Col Juan) in compiling 39, before being cruelly robbed of a “certain 50” (TM Col Juan) by a shambolic run-out, involving earplugs and stage whispers. Even Moggie got in on the act with a season’s best 35, before the skipper came in and showed how it was done – mixing boundaries with extraordinarily extravagant swings and misses.

Through all this TAR nurdled his way to a maiden Pilgrim 50 – slow boats have got to China quicker, but beggars can’t be choosers, eh? A large-looking total of 211 was posted, but on a ground so hard you could have roller-skated across it, any snick or mis-hit waft was likely to go for four (trust me on this one) and the big-hitting Phoenix would surely score a fair few themselves?

It warms the cockles of my heart (though nothing needed warming up here) to say that we were far superior to Phoenix in the field, who could scarcely raise themselves to chase down a stray ball. Some super catches were taken, notably by *fish – and Arse, who, technically, did take a slip catch (after putting in a block on Moggie a linebacker would have been proud of, and despite the captain’s call for a keeper’s catch).

Xero dropped one – but he was seeing two at the time after his leisurely day out laughing at South Africans on the Saturday. He had the shakes so badly I’m amazed he could do his shoelaces up. He and Tipple opened the bowling with pace and accuracy, but without much luck on the wicket front. Enter Feeeesh and Hansie, exit Phoenix’s batsmen at regular intervals, thanks to fine bowling and excellent fielding. Tipple took a couple of blinders, then dropped a dolly – ker-ching – a true ’Grim. No matter, they were all out with a few overs to spare.

Fish got a “Michelle”, and Hansie an “Athletic” (Forfar – keep up at the back!), but there was to be a new name on the man of the match mug (once we’d found it). Even Elvis wasn’t brazen enough to deny your author his first – and probably last – sup of ale whilst ringing a silly bell and annoying people.