Spring, Where A Young Man's Fancy Turns Lightly To Thoughts Of The Cricket

I'm sure it won't come as much of a surprise to any of you that I'm not a cricket fan. The Irish tend not to be fans of the sport. But as I see it, cricket has little to recommend it. At least if you hate the football, it's over in two hours. Cricket can go on for five days and at the end, there still can be no winner. People have tried to enlighten me as to cricket's supposed charms, but with little success. I have a friend who is, in all other respects, a sensible and highly intelligent man, but is nonetheless enthusiastic about cricket, who spent a patient two hours last summer attempting to explain the cricket to me whilst some test or other was on. Sadly, I was paying very little attention to what he said, because all the time he was talking, all I could do was stare at the TV and think, "Darren Lehman's got bosoms!" (I must grow up. There's a TV commercial for a door sales company that runs regularly around here, and I get the giggles every time the announcer gets to the part about "lock, knobs and knockers").

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Anyway, to cheer everyone up, here's Xander:



As I'm sure you all know, there are certain things you cannot do in life. You cannot carry on a sensible conversation in a nightclub; you cannot make a waiter notice you before he or she is absolutely ready; and you cannot make a cat look at the camera if he doesn't want to. Especially not Xander, who knows what I'm trying to do whenever I get the camera out, and tears about the house in all directions to make capturing his image as difficult as possible.

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