V&A PLAYERS:  R Ashcroft, N Bird (substitute fielder), Tom Bird, T P-G, M Bowden (nominal skipper), S Julka, A Jacot, L Jacot, A Taylor (skip on field), L Nieboer, C Jonkers, C Mounsey-Thear, E Nicoli  

All was harmony after the previous week when Nick P-G’s reversing of the normal batting order – to give some batting to tail-enders – caused disquiet. We batted first in a conventional 35-over game, opening with Ross and Andy Taylor, who saw off some sound bowling by Acme’s Harris and Saraf, to reach 50 without loss, scoring at a brisk 5 an over.

Acme, founded in 1975, are as old as we are, and their team has a few old farts too. But also some young ones, and one Aussie, Andy Hoskin, who is a very good batsman and bowler indeed. Christiaan, who is an exacting critic, thought him agricultural at the crease but he was surely defter than that, and any lofted balls were hit with precision because he knew where the fielders weren’t.

Martin Bowden, our nominal skipper, has buggered his knee and is facing a possible op. If this most genial of athletes finally succumbs to injury it would be a tragedy for all the teams that this cricketing tart plays for. And it would be a loss to catering as we would miss his jambon à l’orange and the fabulous gateaux that his missus Lucinda provided. Martin settled our batting order, delegated captaincy in the field to Andy Taylor, announced he would come in at the end of the Acme innings if necessary (they were short) and then went off to slice tomatoes and whip the mayonnaise.

Speaking of whipping there was a learned discussion at luncheon about cricketing pervs, which includes Tony Lock (boys), Roebuck of Somerset (spanking chaps), C.B. Fry (spanking boys and girls) and of course our own Rupert Morris (cross dressing). Someone suggested I qualify as an exhibitionist – wearing a bogus MCC tie and knotted hanky on my head at Lords – but this is small beer compared to my actual foray into filth when I tried to produce a dirty movie to help my balance of payments. It was an erotic comedy-thriller but it failed because it wasn’t erotic, funny or thrilling. Lachlan, an actor now joined by a new Thespian Enzo Nicoli (late of the defunct National Theatre CC), has just finished a film which he says is simple enough for me to understand. I get confused and disappointed by films – the western Brokeback Mountain had no gunplay at all, and The Wizard of Oz isn’t set in Australia, but Kansas. On another topic, Adam Jacot complained of my banging on about the V&A being ‘inclusive’; it is not, he said, you have to be invited, like joining the Athenaeum. The only ones who weren’t invited were me and N P-G. Not sure what he meant but it sounded threatening.

When Ross was on 15 there was a confident appeal for LBW. I was umpiring as I was supernumerary. Ross was plumb. I rejected the appeal. The bowler was incredulous. I said Ross had snicked it. The bowler, Samad, who spoke little English, said: ‘Oba oba bihiri kaḷē æyi karana bava mano æhunada!?’ Which Sinhalese-speakers will know means: ‘How the fuck did you hear that you deaf cunt?!’ He had a point. He might also have added that my eyesight is poor, although like Fotherington-Thomas I enjoy looking at cloud formations which is why I miss some batting action.

Samad went for 35 in his two overs, smacked mercilessly by Andy. But Andy was LBW (for 34) next over, trying to sweep Early. Chris Mounsey-Thear came in and immediately clobbered the bowling to up the rate to 6 an over, which – with a long boundary and very slow outfield – was good going. After Ross was eventually out LBW for a splendid 58, Lachlan briefly plundered some runs (14) and Christiaan came and went, leaving Chris at the end on 68* (10 fours, 1 six). He is a deceptively agile cricketer, this three-puddings-at-lunch man, fitness which can be put down to many hours in the gym. Some Corinthians regard going to a gym, like net practice, as almost cheating, something foreigners do. Another foreign gesture creeping in is the pumping of fists, batsmen touching fists to salute a shot or something. This is not to be confused with fisting, which is different.

We reached a total of 213. Helped by 15 wides, nearly all given by me. I feared that after my rejection of Samad’s appeal and my harsh adjudication of wides their umpires would be ungenerous. And so it proved. But Andy Hoskin, the Aussie, would be key.

We opened our attack with 4 overs from Enzo and Jonkers, the used book man who had arrived in colourful civvies that Jeeves would have described as ‘a trifle sudden’. Hoskin looked extremely sound but Jonkers bowled Johnson for 4; Haris, who also plays for the 39ers, came in and seemed set to stay. A bowling change brought on T P-G, who had arrived that morning early and unhungover. He soon struck with a magnificent caught and bowled, the victim being Haris (19). Meanwhile Andy H had cruised to 50 (out of 66 scored!) and when Miles came in they continued to keep up with the rate. To some it seemed that Andy Taylor’s admirable policy of bowling those who hadn’t batted like Sunil might have backfired – perhaps bowling Lachlan before Hoskin got his eye might have proved profitable. We were not helped by LBW appeals being predictably rejected, which caused grumbling in the field, but I thought the umpires were justified, just. One of their umpires was upset about the ‘rude appeals’ as he put it, but also about the rude rabbit droppings lying on the batting crease. You don’t get that at Trent Bridge he said. I wouldn’t know.

Miles and Hoskin were batting with confidence and it looked like Acme were going to nick it. But several things of consequence turned the match. Lachlan came on and appealed for a caught behind, loudly supported by keeper Ross. Umpire Samad said not out. There was a pause. Then the batsman, Miles, walked. A gent. Their innings began to unravel when Louis Jacot bowled two middle-order batsmen and Tom Bird threw down the wicket from mid-off for a spectacular run-out, missed by his new missus on the boundary, who had to be briefed about the dismissal so she could pretend she witnessed the event. I also began my marriage with a lie (about the barmaid at The Chequers in Maida Vale). It has lasted 40 years (the marriage not the affair with the barmaid) so it is a good way to begin.

I came on as sub fielder when Tom P-G went off to his BBQ and coped manfully with everything that came my way, which was nothing. Andy Taylor caught Karim (off Enzo), who briefly threatened, in the deep, and then the Acme innings was doomed when Andy also caught Hoskin (70) off T P-G, an immaculate catch to end a fine innings. Hoskin got stuck into Prosecco after his innings, which is the right way round; V&A players please note – liquor or weed after the innings not before.

Sunil got a caught behind which brought in Martin Bowden at the end, with Acme marooned 60 short of their target. Enzo came on to bowl. The clock ticked towards my whisky time, I can sense it by a slight tremor of the hand. ‘Bowl him,’ I said to Enzo. He did.

Let us hope that Martin’s knee will survive to give him more runs and wickets. It is sad to see old cricketers, like old soldiers, fade away, as I said after the game. ‘Yes,’ was the reply, ‘men past their sell-by date doing some catering and washing up, umpiring badly, scoffing lunch even before the opposition are off the field, talking smut or banging on about cricket in the fifties, wearing club ties they’re not entitled to…’ I didn’t like his tone.