44. Jardine’s Greatest Innings.

Further Douglas Jardine Hologram Report:

DAY 4

The Icenorium Amphitheatre was similar in shape to The Oval, so I felt at home. The Three Heads of Cerberus sat on stage at the far end of the arena. They were introduced as Londinium’s premier doormice trader Quintus Flaccus Obsticanus, Hector Fallonus Scipio an olive importer from Verulamium and Gaius Torpus Alainus a Camulodunum wine trader.

The Three Heads of Cerberus quickly saw off the first contestant looking for an investment of 400 denarii in return for a 25% stake in his sprinting impressionist communication system, where impersonators conducted a conversation between two subscribers often miles apart while imitating their voices. As The Heads of Cerberus observed with the impressionists running back and forth innocent subscribers could be accused of making dirty calls as there’d be heavy breathing due to their exertions.

For our pitch a heavy roller hadn’t been deployed upon the wicket and some bone and gristle had survived the general sweep after the gladitorial combats and Boudicca was able to exploit some of this rough outside the off-stump with her cleverly flighted spinners.

When the Heads of Cerberus asked to see the ball all three agreed that the raised seam would be more exciting if it was replaced by sharp blades.

‘The object of the game is to get the batsman out, not kill the bugger!’ I retorted. Those of Antipodean extraction will be shocked that I, Douglas Jardine of Bodyline infamy, said this.

The hostile crowd laughed uproariously at every scathing put down and punctuated this with a volley of rotten fruit etc propelled in our direction. Being a projected image I could allow them to pass right through me, unlike my Celtic teammates. Here are some examples of the invidious responses of the Three Heads to cricketing terms:

Overs – ‘I’ll be glad when this pitch is over!’

The New Ball – ‘A ball lasts less than a day before needing to be replaced by another new ball? No good offering a one year guarantee on it then!

The Meat of the Bat – ‘Are you trying to dip a toe into the exotic butchery business!’

The Crease – ‘You said that a heavy roller is applied to the wicket before each innings…yet you are left with two creases!’

Ball Tampering – ‘Leave creating Eunuchs to the Pontifex Maximus!’

Swinger – ‘Why not just call him an orgy lover!’

Pads – ‘You seriously advocate wearing an apartment to prevent injuries?’

Bowled Around His Legs – ‘Sounds like my brother after the barber at the baths has finished with him each week!’

The Ball Carried To A Fielder – ‘So slaves are involved?’

The Corridor of Uncertainty – ‘We’ve been occupying it since first you opened your mouth today.’

Golden Duck – ‘We could send that on to Nero for the bath in his planned Golden Palace.’

Run Out – ‘Sounds like you have major supply problems there!’

Suffice it to say, that all Three Heads of Cerberus declared in quick succession that they were out.

‘I would rather not save your fat Roman arses on your roads now,’ Boudicca reacted, angered by their lack of respect. ‘You can all slip off and die, and take your sycophantic crowd with you.’

Boudicca stormed off, a wounded animal rather like Woodfull and Oldfield would after being struck by nasty, sharp rising deliveries in the Third Test at Adelaide in 1933. Frankly, I don’t blame her. She’d taken five wickets a feat that merits one’s name being inscribed on the honours board. For it to be instead met with ridicule was Unsportsmanlike.

TEST RESULT: Douglas Jardine Won on Day 4.