Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of Lords to remember Boris, who sadly departed the ranks of fellow Pilgrims on Sunday. Boris leaves behind him a gaping chasm that neither alcohol will fill nor another good for 40er will ever fully match up to but which his family can rest assured we will make every effort to try and replace as soon as possible, after all there is only so much of one’s emotional output that can be bestowed on an Australian. In fact, now would be a tactful point in the ceremony to point out that thanks to the thoughtlessness and lack of team spirit shown by a now ex-player the Pilgrims are in need of a batsman who actually lives up to his promises, and who doesn’t go running home just because his soon-to-be wife doesn’t like the cold any more. We also remember said soon-to-be wife Madam Boris for providing us with an endless (if 3 counts as endless) supply of fairer sex supporters.

Boris “Good for 39.39” was born in a car journey on the way to Richmond three summers ago to Gavin & Egon Lawrence. His birth was a confusing one, as is often the case with Tabard Pilgrims, but soon settled comfortably into his new life as opening batsman, occasional swing bowler and prodigious imbiber. A privileged few were present at his conception when his father, Gavin, got a little tipsy at the Pilgrims AGM, and announced as a batsman, he would be good for 40. This had a remarkable effect on the Pilgrims. Not least because it set the future Boris up for an unprecedented double automatic fine, adding any failure to achieve said 40 to his mandatory Being Australian tax. In fact he only managed to hit 40 in just one of his first five games.

It brings a tear to the eye to recall Boris’s usual method of self-dismissal, a classic Pilgrims swipe to cow corner, head firmly planted upwards towards the stars, body half a mile away from the actual pitch of the ball, stumps splayed backwards. There were other less fortunate occasions, usually involving a middle Philips brother and an itchy trigger finger despite being two furlongs down the pitch when the ball struck his pad. A look of murderous intent would pass that rugged face, carved by years of Antipodean sun and international liquor, which would soon pass once settled back in the clubhouse – pint in one hand, fag in the other watching a succession of lesser mortals trying to scrape a more modest target of 10 per game. His bowling action was surprisingly delicate for a man of his size and sometimes effective, sometimes not. A useful fielder and on pitch commentator as well.

Many people won’t know of Boris’s charity work: when he became a spokesman for the Injured & Slightly Pissed Cricketers Organisation, as a result of sitting on his hand in the outfield when trying to avoid a catch. While we applaud the sentiment of the NHS in inflicting discomfort on a citizen of a former Ashes winning nation, we do feel they went a little too far. However the stunted claw that now passed for a hand clearly counteracted the effect three pints has on an Ozzie having balls thrown at his head, and made for a remarkable batting record. So much so that though a per game good for 40 was out of the question, a career long good for 40 average was on the cards.

Boris would live up to his reputation and take his place among the pantheon of Pilgrims Legends as one of the greatest to ever have wielded a bat for the TPCC. All that was needed was a modest target of 103 not out against an opposition he’d already scored an unbeaten ton against last year. The scene was set, the script was written for a glorious and triumphant end: appointed captain, winning the toss and electing to bat. This was his moment, this was his Headingly 1981, this was his Edgbaston 2005, this was his Oval 2009, this was possibly the greatest sporting achievement in the history of the Tabard Pilgrims...

...It wasn't.

He didn’t even come close: 17 runs short leaving him unbeaten on 86, 1103 runs in 3 seasons and a career average of just 39.39. So demoralised were the other Pilgrims that all they could scrape together was a measly tie, caused by a last ball direct hit run out from Juggs against a side we had lost to 3 times in a row. Even tea was tasteless to our devastated mouths. You almost wondered why he bothered turning up in the first place.

Still, despite the bitter taste that will linger long after he slips into shadows of past mediocrity, there will be those who remember one of the finest members this club has been proud to have, even if he was Australian. A man who thrust himself to the forefront of everything the club had to offer. If he had his way he’d open the batting, bowling and drinking every time he played. He will be much missed and he’d better not come back, otherwise he’ll make this whole report completely redundant.