No team in these fair isles can compare with the Pilgrims.

Just look at the Polytechnic. Eleven sad and witless oiks tasting glory by beating the shit out of a mob of resting superstars, beginners, and old farts long past their sell-by date.

Then look at us. OK don’t. But look at the eye-candy that still gathers to watch us play and read their Sunday fashion mags. Who pulls in the crowds? Who is it they want? Hey lads – we must be doing something right!

As for the cricket. So what? They had two who chanced their arm and hit lucky. Good for them.

But we took it well and that matters. We also introduced three new Pilgrims who all played their hearts out – an automatic ticket to join this incredibly exclusive club. As Tony Blair (or was it Alistair Campbell?) said in 1997: “Things can only get better.”

While on the subject of Iraq – we’ve got a transport problem. Pammers and Colonel Juan made the return trip to Camp Tabard on an E3 bus. Not a clever idea with Pammers lacking any sense of direction (libel! Ed.) and Juan having a price on his head. Cars are becoming the main issue. Everyone keep an eye on this because it’s often impossible to hire a minibus at the last minute. Which means, after the team is selected, people should consider how the fuck we get there.

Now for a brief glimpse at the scorebook. The Kommander bowled eight overs for less than three per over whereas Aslan took a wicket and looked like a bowler. Daisy fielded as if he’d paid Moggie a visit behind the pavilion and Pammers spent an unusual amount of time at the crease. Juan bowled a maiden for the first time in three seasons, Penthouse looked as if he’d score a fifty and both Marcus and Tristram batted. Unlike Hansie, who didn’t face a ball but looked like someone who might take some wickets but didn’t.

That was it. As pleasant an afternoon as one can expect in May.

Fines levied: £13.60

Presiding: Recorder Moggie