I just felt it was time to get things in the open. You know, clear the air, put cards on the table, say things that need to be said, call a spade a bucket etc., so I invited all the captains and their vices along to the Overlook for a pow-pow after practice last night. I call it practice but it’s where some people stand around with their arms folded or hands in their pockets doing nowt while watching some bloke on a sit down mower that’s more powerful than his flipping car cut a picture of the virgin Mary into the grass while others run about like headless chickens bringing the word ‘training’ into disrepute.

First to arrive was the bald bloke from over the border called, I think, Sploff or Spliff. ‘Where’s the 1s captain bloke, Renee?’ I enquired. ‘Not coming. Got a date, with a woman, for the first time in 10 years.’ I started to pour the tea when the door knocker rang again. ‘Help yourself to custard creams Sploff, Spliff. Oh, I see you already have.’ I opened the door to the bloke wearing the bobble hat who is in charge of the 3s. He didn’t seem very happy. ‘Where is he? I want a word.’ He barged past.

Coming up the path behind him very slowly was the 2s captain, wearing his customary pinny with the comedy breasts. ‘You look down’, I said. ‘You would be with the selection headaches I have every week’ and he dragged his body into the lounge where Sploff or Spliff or whatever his name is and the bloke with the bobble hat, who I have since discovered is called Kylie, were having words about the constitutional rights of trees.

The bloke in the pinny sat down with his head resting inbetween the comedy breasts looking very glum. I gave him a cup of tea. ‘Iced Fancy?’ He looked up. ‘The other week, after the game, we went down to the pub to discuss the finer points of the game and what tactical changes we should make for the next game and do you know what the lads wanted to talk about? Mrs hand and her five lovely daughters, that's what. I could have wept. Some of the things they were describing I didn’t know were physically possible, like wedging it in a drawer and twanging it around like a skipping rope.’

Sploff or Spliff and Kylie had now moved on and were arguing about the right way to pronounce the word, ‘scone’. The bloke in the pinny with the comedy breasts grabbed a chair and pulled out a rope from his pocket. He put his head in a noose and threw the rope over the chandelier. ‘It can’t be that bad’ surely?’ I said. The rope was now fixed and tight. ‘Bad? Even Danny Walsh is finding new ways to get himself out.’ He stood on the chair. ‘And Keith can’t play every week. How am I going to cope?’ I tried to calm him down. ‘But I heard that young bloke called Zeebeebies got a 5 for last Saturday?’ He was distraught. ‘I’ve got shoes older than him!’ ‘Where’s your second in command? His eyes filled up. ‘He’s away. He’s always b****y away.’ I grabbed hold of him around his chest to stop him jumping and inadvertently punctured one of his comedy breasts while at the same time getting between Sploff or Spliff and Kylie who were nearly coming to blows over the nutritional merits of skimmed v semi-skimmed.

Thirty minutes later things were calm. The bloke in the pinny was now sitting on the sofa looking a bit worse for wear with one comedy breast now limp and I’d persuaded Sploff or Spliff and Kylie to sit as far away as possible from each other. Kylie was still wearing his bobble hat. ‘Are you not hot?’ I said trying to break the ice. All he did was glare at, let's call him, Spliff. I tried a different approach. ‘So, where’s your second in command then?’ He looked at me with fire in his eyes, ‘I don’t need a second in command? I am in command, do you hear me, total command. I am, the command commander’ and started laughing maniacally before sitting down again. It all went very quiet.

I turned to Spliff. ‘So, how did it go last weekend for the 1s then?’ Before he could draw breath, Kylie was up on his feet, ‘The opposition’s overseas pro middled a ball to midwicket boundary. Mad man star jumps, catches the ball one handed at full stretch. Everyone applaudes. Gasman, who is a bit of a machinery fiddler, dropped the scoreboard on his bottom. Our fast bowler Gary Numan was entered in the scorebook as Marc Bolan. Randy, our opener, batted an entire innings without making contact with the ball-‘. I stopped him. ‘Ok, ok, I get it, there’s obviously a lot to work on

‘First thing first. More tea.’ In the moment I turned my back, Spliff and Kylie lunged at each other. I brandished the sugar tongs. ‘Boys, boys, now come on, there’s no need for this’. The bloke in the pinny with one breast now down by his knees got back up on the chair and put the noose around his neck while at the same time trying to slash his wrists with the cake knife. Something told me it was going to be a long night.