No Borders... Here's One Of The Reasons.

[BIAD]

What's "cricket"?

It's complicated. It involves a self-massaging of the genital area with a hard ball, a person standing
in front of three sticks with a little wooden doohickey balanced on top and a bat made of willow.
All participants wear white, unless there's some sponsorship involved.

The chap who's been arousing himself with the ball takes fives minutes to contemplate whether to
run towards the bicycle-handle-moustached gent defending the three sticks or possibly allow the
flock of seagulls that are resting close by on the pitch, to remain as a group.

If 'the bowler' decides to run, he must swing his arm over his head in the final phase of his stampede
and hurl the ball that he loves at the sentinel of the three sticks. There are strategically-placed people
standing around in the field of play that are waiting to catch the leather ball if it's struck with the bat.

These guardsmen can sometimes be seen wearing war-paint in the effort to offset the sun that rarely
visits the British Isles. Maybe that's why these matches tend to be in India, Jamaica-man and Down-Under.

There's an umpire, a referee who enjoys wearing the jumpers and hats that the players standing around
don't wish to use and he gives his judgements via hand signals and pensive frowns.
His own garb consists of a laboratory coat and white-straw trilby hat, which doesn't make him look silly.

The game has quickened since a well-known Australian media-mogul has purchased the rights to broadcast
the tournaments from the BBC and the participants now offer exciting high-fives and hugging to stir the
crowd after knocking down the three sticks or catching the struck ball.

For winning a particular tournament where England play against an Australian team consisting mainly of
ball-tamperers and prison convicts, the victors receive a small vial holding the alleged burnt ashes of a
cricket ball.

I hope this helps and may I add the game as come a long way from the days of being shown on BBC 2 at
10.00.am on a weekday morning for cigar-smoking politicians with sod-all to do in Westminster.
See John Major for details.