V&A XI:  A. Jacot(c), N. Constantine, C. Jonkers, L. Nieboer, R. Taylor, T. Bird, B. Horan, J. Arnold (wk) D. Pitlarge, A. Pitlarge, J Warman

Facial hair tells us a lot about a man. And a lot about cricketers. There is the lazy stubble of the ultra-cool. Though, admittedly, this can double as the lazy stubble of the increasingly moribund.

There is of course the villainous “moustachio” worn as part of a wider assembly of beard, twirled occasionally when batsmen take liberties. A look favoured perhaps by second hand booksellers.

One of the earliest documents of the usage of moustaches can be traced back to the Iron Age Celts. Graham Gooch took on the look. W.G Grace got carried away sadly and I think we can all agree that his great rhododendron of a beard was a bit de trop. Douglas Jardine, Jack Russell…we acknowledge the effort, but the originality feels strained. And Jack Russell is an awful painter.

But then there is the “Woke Wayne Larkins”. The perfect moustache. It involves a nod to cricketing greats of the past, but this is the grooming of a man in his physical and emotional prime. It is well maintained, lustrous, truly modern. It’s how you need to look in order to score runs in 2024.

Now, what kind of facial hair is most simpatico with being clean bowled for 1? I fear this is the lazy stubble of the moribund. Your writer.

What kind of facial hair is most simpatico with deadly wobbled seam, bedevilling batsman? Kindly twirl your moustache Christiaan Jonkers.

And as for Woke Wayne Larkins (real name Ben Horan), you power your way to a magnificent 78, then you get bowled out by an 11-year-old girl. They can try cancelling that, Big Ben.

That was sort of how it went on Saturday for the V&A against a very sporting Acme. Strong individual performers covered up for the sad-sacks and made what could have been a hairy affair, into a cakewalk. Smooth shaving.

Ben’s great innings was supported by a bustling innings from Rob Taylor. A classic busy left hander who delivers a piping stream of consciousness as he builds an innings, Neil Fairbrother on Ecstasy perhaps? Tom Bird did what Tom Bird does, floppy hatting and throat-clearing his way to a very helpful 21 before doing the decent thing and unfurling a violent and kamikaze slog. Comes from a long line of gents that chap.

A total of over 200 looked a bit mean spirited as the V&A rolled out its heavy bowling cattle. Lachlan and Pitlarge jr. Brute pace and lithe seam. Thunder and lightning. The splice was worried, obscenities were hurled, and the run rate cowered. Then, the ice pick to the heart, as Christiaan bestrode the stage. His flannels are impossibly elegant, but the pasty legs occupying them are those of a stone-cold killer. His 3 fine wickets all but ended the match. Neil Fairbrother (now high as a kite?) came on, bowled orthodox spin to include some fabulous arm balls, and wrecked the gaffe still further.

The books were balanced a bit by the great Norman of Acme and his very brave and impressive 11-year-old teammate. They were particularly severe on some moribund (possibly inert?) off-spin, but the VICTORIA and ALBERT MUSEUM CRICKET CLUB…were home and hosed by then.

To turn to the skipper. What a leader of men Adam Jacot is. He nudged, he cajoled, he teased, he bullied… all in the name of powering his team to victory.  He even bowled a man over the top of his head to impress his mother. And why not? His lazy stubble? It’s the ultra-cool variety.

Huge thanks go to Emma for a delicious and aesthetic lunch. I planned to slake my thirst equally aesthetically with nothing but water, or more fancifully, cold tea. But the flesh is weak. And I ended up guzzling and burping my way through three (4) tins of San Miguel.

Two final points:

David Pitlarge, also out for 1 alongside moribund, is clean shaven. Read into that what you wish.

Man of the Match. Jonkers. I have a serious side. And you don’t ignore flannels like that.