The Pilgrims arrived at Taplow to witness a strange event: Penthouse won the toss and put the Pilgrims into the field.

Conditions were almost ideal for llamas – so hypnotic was the luxuriant wet grass – and though everyone was loath to admit it, this was a good captaincy decision, the boundary being at a considerable distance from the wicket for most of its circumference.

The Juggler (not official – Krauchie jnr.) took the wicket of their colt opener in his second over.

Omelette having scrambled his chances at the other end – five tidy overs mind – he was replaced by McFly, with Tipple now delivering MacDonalds’ toys from the opening end, for he must have been reading Bully’s toilet-bowling manual while feeding mini-Tipple, so reminiscent was his first over of the exiled master (of toilet).

Onan

So duly, on the fifth ball of his opening over he produced the one that makes the batsman see red, and screams ‘hit me with your rhythm-stick,’ while proceeding to make a complete wanker out of him, on account of it being laced with that little piece of mystery, Chris Hill taking the catch comfortably at cover.

With Taplow 38 for teo things seemed to be shaping up nicely.

McFly struggled to find his rhythm, largely on account of the exhibition the captain was making of himself. For having forgotten that we were sporting both a Tickle and a Tipple, he became fixated on shouting “Come on, Bretty!” till he was hoarse, and everybody else pretty hacked off (Tickle’s real name being the same).

Godot

Anyway he didn’t get fined for it, largely on account I suspect of the Kommander being hemmed in behind Taplow’s score book, with Curly scoring for us:

Kom. “What on earth’s Charlie shouting? He’s like a kid who’s lost his rattle.”
Curly. “Or bottle.”
Kom. “No, it’s not feeding time. Rattle... or squeaky, flashing thing.”
Curly. “Betty? Could that be it?”
Kom.“Bill, don’t be absurd. Betty’s back in Australia.”
Curly. “Reaally? Gets around that boy.”

The Kommander temporarily distracted, and Penthouse a pound the richer, McFly finally overheated and pummelled the uncomfortable Peters’ off-stump out of the ground.

Though the Saturday wicket-keeper, batting at number three, had an air of assurance about him, the Pilgrims were expectant of another quick wicket when grey wolf Christy approached the crease to take his haggard stance.

But despite a fine prolonged spell from Hansie, with Hilly complementing from the other end for the first half before being replaced by Tickle, the ball kept low when not being hit to the boundary, and disappointingly for the spinners there was very little turn to be had.

Accordingly, Taplow sailed past the 150 without further loss, things looking a little ominous with the drinks yardstick bringing the revelation of a temporal cloud. But on the whole, despite a couple of drops, either of which would have lightened the load considerably, the Pilgrims fielded with commitment and aplomb.

WI

Harking back to days of old there were a couple of comedy moments – despite Hansie seeming to have had a monopoly on this department on account of his radar being down again – Gussie turning an almost slick piece of fielding into an egg and spoon race that any member of the Women’s Institute would have been proud of, with Hansie out of his world cup starting blocks doing the old Ronaldino stuff right along the boundary, before Penthouse reintroduced some sobriety into the proceedings by replacing him with Hansie junior.

In Hansie’s defence I should add that this temporary moment of possession may have been inspired by the England world cup squad, who’d been notified of Tipple’s aqua-planing along swathes of the boundary and turned up briefly to have a butcher’s at ’ow it’s done proper, like.

A huge cloud having descended upon the Kommander’s brow, Tipple was put into the book, later having to answer to the charge of ‘showboating.’

Taplow now having passed the double century mark, it was all looking like it might run away in the last 20 minutes, before Marilyn bowled a slightly short one on middle stump that their centurion number three for some obscure reason (sportsmanship? Overheating?) thwacked into orbit down the leg-side in the Juggler’s (still not official) general direction. Temporarily ridding himself of the other four balls, Krauchie jnr. took a fine diving catch backward of square.

The ship steadied on 207, anchor was weighed with Gussie coming on fire to dismiss colts Uden and Keugh, grey wolf Christy remaining unbeaten and well into double figures, a relieved Pilgrims thankful for the respite in runs as Taplow called it a day just before tea.

To Llamas Wherever They May Forage

The sandwiches were mixed and varied
All manner of party fayre abounded
Crisps and quiche and cocktail sausages
Over which the ghost of a llama, astounded
At the wealth of double-bellied riches displayed
The scones, the cake, crunchy penguins – all relayed
Through the ether from the very point of the plate
Which gave our missed and sabbatical meercat
The farty pair through which to ruminate

Refreshed and tuckered up, Luke Munro (not his real name) and Gussie took to the crease.

Munny batted well before being cheaply dismissed by a rare good ball from Addinsell, the Pilgrims nudging 60.

A second solid stand secured the fort with clubber Tickle and the ever-stroking Gussie reaching their 50s – the Kommander’s eyes positively bulging from the sidelines – before Tickle was given lbw to a fine ball from Fisher.

Gender issues

Penthouse looked ripe for getting it wet, and for once his parents weren’t disappointed, though later Judge Krauchie would regale him for having periods of gay batting – or maybe just periods full stop.

The Pilgrims seemed pretty steady when Moggie sprang to the crease, Trigger having been bowled by Peters with the tally at 174.

And indeed it was all going swimmingly, with Penthouse lathering the ball around the ground when he wellied one off the colt bowler straight back down the wicket. Moggie, temporarily possessed with the warm vision of seeing home the innings for a second time on the trot, remained rooted to the spot two feet down the wicket, as if just having partaken of a pure skunk joint.

Not wanting to be called a wuss by his team-mates, the lad swivelled and stuck his foot into the path of the trajectory, taking all of its momentum away but for the merest whisper with which to carry it onto the stump. As the bail trickled onto the ground, a mortified Moggie went back to rewrite the script, with the Pilgrims on 198.

Penthouse added four more before they changed around, The Pilgrims choosing the wrong bowler with whom to be blase.

Hilly (Bumpy?) went for a golden, Tipple survived a ball before being given lbw, and McFly likewise survived just the one before being bowled. Fisher was on for a quadruple wicket maiden when Krauchie jnr. strode to the wicket. What was going on in his mind is anyone’s guess – the five ball, the flipper, the whoopsie shuffle – he seemed dangerously close to the level of delusion that Moggie had succumbed to earlier.

The situation was evident. We needed six to win. They didn’t have to be got all in one go. This was their good bowler. He was quite capable of doing it again. There was one ball left in the over.

As Fisher delivered the last ball of the over, Juggsy doing his best to give it a good thrashing but producing only the faintest of contacts, the captain’s sphincter was sorely tested at the other end and Hansie’s suppository almost popped out at square-leg. The ball carried safely into the keeper’s hands before the wet wipes were waved away as it spilled back onto the ground.

Intellectual

But for this little miracle, which both Mrs Mogg and I chanted for in the morning, knowing that it would reach the Buddhist headquarters in Taplow just as the game was reaching its critical mass, the story may well have been lamentably different. Hansie was umpiring (poorly, according to Judge Krauchie, who demanded he visit the no-ball clinic before the next game), and Omelette was reading a book.

More sphincter problems were to beset the captain when he saw the possibility of a fifty vanish before his eyes as Juggsy wellied home the winning runs, the flutter of everyone’s tickers returning to normal as we walked off winners with three wickets to spare.

With just 95 words to keep the report under the fineable 1,500 mark it just remains to be said that Judge Krauchie secured 35 convictions and raised £22 for the club in the process.

So for those of you who weren’t there, if you’d like to hand-pick 35 out of this report and send them to the Kommander with a bond inside from the Pilgrims’ fiscal printing works stating that, You Owe Me A Pint, he’ll be able to validate them when he next sees you.

Man of the Match: Gussie

Girl of the Match: Hilly