I refer of course, to the ICC Twenty20 Cricket World Cup, which England won yesterday. It is the first cricket world trophy England have won in 35 years of trying, having been defeated on all four of the previous occasions they’ve made it to a final.
If you haven’t been following the tournament, I can only tell you that watching England has been surreal. Only last summer, England were ODI luddites, supposedly watching the rest of the world sail over the horizon. This month they steamrollered everybody including, in the final, an Aussie team which the Old Batsman had compared to both muscle-bound juggernauts and unkillable vampires. Rarely can there have been such a rapid transition from no-hopers to world-beaters.
I can only put it down to Cameron-Clegg, and I trust that Paul Collingwood’s collection of blonde public schoolboys (including my Jacuzzi-pal Luke Wright), gnarled county pros, South African refugees and stolen Irishmen will get a celebratory audience with that Toothsome Twosome.