Here we go

My son met Mark Butcher in Bluewater where he ( my son ) works. He asked him if he was going to Australia. He said no. My son told him that we were off to watch the first two test matches on Sunday. That night my mate phoned to see if I fancied going to watch Gravesend and Northfleet play Oxford United on Saturday. They are bringing loads of fans with them and someone said their own police. I'll look for the red Jag.I hope the weather will be OK as a lot of them will get soaked on the away end at Stonebridge Road as there is no roof. Last season by mistake I went through the kid's and OAP's turnstyles. I handed over my ten quid. He gave me a fiver back. I thought the Kent Policemen on duty looked young enough to be my grandchildren. I felt a bit down, but the extra fiver helped in the bar before the game. Although I am retired now I am only early retired and not yet 60, I couldn't bring myself to go through the same entrance when the Fleet played Dagenham and Redbridge earlier in the season. I paid the full quota though this season ten is twelve.
Anyway even though totally unaware of Butcher's brief meeting with my son my mate reckoned that Butcher should be Marcus Trescothick's replacement. Experienced, used to the big time, good bat, helpful to Freddie. That sort of thing. Wouldn't it have been great if they had picked Mark B to replace Marcus T if only for the reason of making this piece more interesting or less dull depending on which side you shine your balls. Yes I've written a book but nobody wants to publish it. Publishers and agents don't want to know. With what you are reading now, I'm sure you can understand why. One said that the laddish and smart language made her feel uncomfortable. I'll try again when I will be officially allowed to go through those other turnstiles. There's no way I can be described as 'laddish' then. I wish I knew which bit was smart in the three sample chapters I sent her. I 've read those pages hundreds of times and I haven't seen anything remotely approaching that which can be described as 'smart'. Perhaps she meant 'smart-assed' but could not bring herself to say so as she was not enough of a ladette. I'm not bitter. I don't suppose she even likes cricket, and I'm not sure that I would like to share the terraces with her tomorrow even if she is an Oxford don. All hypothetical of course as by the sound of her she wouldn't be able to get her fat through the away turnstyles.
Not wanting to publish my book through this medium there are one or two things that I want to slip into the public's eye while cricket is under the lens. I'll see if I can cut and paste a relevant bit. Only I have to do 'control C' and 'Control V'. I can't get it out of my mind that a past school I was at was criticised in an Ofsed Inspection for too much 'cutting and sticking' See what you think.
'Some bloke confused me once over a googlie. It was at a lunchtime do at a colleague’s place. Most there were journalists, so I was lost for words. I left the missus who was enjoying their company to go inside to watch some cricket on the telly. For some reason the googlie came up. Probably because they were talking about spin. Knowing that it had been invented by a broadcaster’s dad B.J. Bosanquet, I asked this bloke who was also watching it, whether he had come across Reginald, the son. I’d actually been introduced to him years ago at a book signing. George Melly was also there, as was the author Margaret Drabble. I think it was her book. When we talked to her she said’ At last some real people.’ Perhaps she was being kind. Anyway this bloke got quite uppity. He was adamant that it was not B.J.B who had invented the googlie; it was the father of the bloke who had gone off with his wife. It had happened quite a few years ago but he was still sore about it. I didn’t know what to say. I asked him if he was sure about it as well as being sore about it. He said yes, and he was. He talked more about the matrimonial difficulty, rather than of the father in whom I was more interested. I had come in from the garden to get away from the gossip columnists, and I got all this. I did get his name but I’ve seen All the President’s Men and I’m not going to say anything until I see that teacher next term.'
I mean who was this bloke? The teacher couldn't work it out. Can anybody help? Derek Underwood has just said on Radio 5 that he is going to three tests. Will he know? We could have gone with the Barmy Army. My son thought we should have done. I couldn't bear the thought of someone playing a trumpet in my ear all day. I may change my mind. I'm OK one side as my son will be sitting there. What if some early retired grey haired boring old fart is sat next to me on the other side. I'd cry out for a bugle then. No. I agree with you. The chances of two in one place. What do you reckon? 24000 to 1. I'll lay you £1 in premium bonds.