Final details have been announced for one of the Village's most eagerly-anticipated social events of the week.

Following a lack of interest in an early start, reverse WAGing, or ginGAW, will now begin at 5.30pm on Friday evening.

Villagers and WAGAHOs are encouraged to congregate near to The Hub in Regent's Park, scene of a memorable Twenty20 victory in the dark earlier in the season.

In a reversal of normal roles, Villagers are to bring a picnic and other WAGing apparatus (nail polish etc) while WAGAHOs are to come pumped for sporting activity.

All attendees are to bring alcohol.

After outdoor activities, the party will move on to the Bloomsbury Bowling Alley, where a lane has been booked for 90 mins from 9.30pm. Ed Thomas has informed organisers he may not be able to attend, meaning that the position of Champion Bowler is up for grabs.

The event is taking place to mark the departure of first-season bowler Craig Woodhouse to Manchester.

The 24-year-old Yorkshireman said: "I'm gutted to be leaving behind such an upstanding group of sportsmen and assorted hangers on.

"Hopefully, reverse WAGing will be a tremedous success and may even become an annual fixture. Perhaps with an in-no-way-egotistical Craig Woodhouse memorial trophy for the bowling."

The approach of these men was even scientific: bouncing balls were seen from afar as a gathering in the middle mused over the prospects for play, no doubt inspired by the turn-around at Lord’s on the first day of the India Test. Eventually, it was called-off. That left the small problem of dozens of sandwiches, cakes and scones. Page and Stevo demonstrated their kinder side by slinging them into a car before driving to seek the tramp on St Giles’ who had accosted them earlier in the day. Alas, he was not to be found and presumably went hungry.

The day faded and the Sandwiches were eventually dumped in a service station bin. However, the words of  Wolverhampton’s town motto best sum up the mood: “Out of darkness cometh light”. Foul weather could never sabotage a cricket tour. And just think of the anecdotes.

He bravely claimed that spikes “would make no difference”, before deciding that running was pointless and that boundary-hitting was the way forward. The wisdom of this approach might be questioned, given that it was simply not a day for big-hitting and, perhaps more critically, on account of the inability of the batsmen to hit the ball off the soaked square. Amidst this farce, the Rainmen’s captain (now in a new guise as an umpire) unilaterally called time on proceedings. Debate ensued as to whether this decision was a consequence of inclement weather and consequent danger or the fate of his side at 11 for five.  

Briefly saddened, until warm power-showers provided respite, the intrepid villagers went into the big city. A-Bomb had now decided to join the tour party, as there was now neither another team to play for, nor better company to dine with, at this more advanced hour of the day. After a brief, and damp, walking tour to find a hostelry offering to show rugby as opposed to chav-ball, a venue was discovered and Page took up his stool right in front of the television. After all, how can one be without the insightful analysis of the Sky commentary team? Conversation drifted as aimlessly as the England side during the second half. A-bomb referred to this period as a “hiatus” in distressed tones, before leading his charges to a veritable beer-den. Much chat was had, and Kiwi Paul even set upon assaulting Mrs Mary Plimmer: with zest he lifted her as if to cross a metaphorical threshold, with pain she responded following a collision with a recalcitrant beam. So the evening rolled on. 

The ‘charity’ then took a new turn when turncoat A-bomb graced us with his presence (he had been dining with his former tutor, you know) and began to bowl. Craig lost his leg-stump to the Oriel man, and thus the gift of tea for all loomed. Even so, there was time for a little more controversy; the sodden fielders thought that the ten-man outfit was down and out, until Umpire Plimmer suggested that his very own good Lady, Mary, might want to bat as the eleventh player. To this, a certain opening bowler ejaculated that such a situation could well be the “biggest joke” of the day. He had not chosen his words well. The seasoned retort, full of the West-Midlander’s dulcet tone, was “you won’t be saying that when she hits you over mid-wicket for six”. Nobody should mess with a Plimmer. This impasse was only breached when it was announced that the innings was indeed over; Mary would not be batting today. The efforts thus closed on 93.

The Oxford tour might not have produced any result of which to boast, but it has doubtless furnished the tourists with much material for anecdote-spinning. Saturday’s game against the Rainmen was nothing short of bizarre. The rain conveniently started in the first over and relented not a bit for the rest of the afternoon. It was a day for gritty performances, and it soon seemed that Page’s motley crew would fail to oblige. Dan Plimmer perished early doors, mistiming a drive back to a grateful bowler. Page then strode to the wicket. Yes, Page. Little stands out about what then transpired, other than Page’s crafty ‘placement’ of the ball over the slip cordon (a feat he repeated just to prove that fluke was not playing a role here) and the running of a very fit Mighty Dr Thomas Plimmer. His ability to stride between the wickets offered something of a juxtaposition with Page’s beer-bellied waddling. The latter was almost lapped on several occasions. Later, with the departure of Plimmer Junior, the secret weapon of Alex R-R moved with customary grace to the middle, much to the chagrin of the opening bowler. The man was genuinely frustrated that “a woman” was facing him and then even more so when her stubborn resistance outside off-stump prevented him from claiming her wicket. Not a bit perturbed, the leading lady was soon discussing her previous innings against the Rainmen with the slip cordon.

Today at around 16.30 hours the guestbook wents tits up. I have no idea what went wrong but at present I cannot delete or rename the file containing the chat. It is almost certain that the chat is lost. A call is open with the hosting company and I hope to at very worst restore to a July 3rd backup sometime tomorrow.

It is unlikely that the guestbook will be restored until Thursday.

Webmaster

Matt Prior 1/10
Irongloves’ constant barrage of banalities behind the stumps – “come on England, good length, top stuff muncher, fine areas, pull a big one from the larder, yeah England yeah” – are designed to create an intimidating atmosphere. The chuntering fool then ups the pressure with his routine of well-left byes and missed chances. A similar intensity could be created by placing a disabled pensioner and a detuned radio in his place.

Ryan Sidebottom 1/10
Looks like C11th monarch William called Rufus, an unsuccessful king who was shot by his brother’s man in a mysterious “hunting accident”, if only the selectors had such powers now.

Chris Tremlett 1/10
Would be an intimidating fast bowler if he could bowl fast.

Monty Panesar 1/10
Rumoured to be starring as Norman Wisdom in a new biopic.

Jimmy Anderson 1/10
Man of the series. Everyone else must be shit then.

Alistair Cook 1/10
Gangly prepubescent Cook said that the Oval test “was like the FA cup final” in ‘his’ Telegraph column. He might have had a chance of a reasonable knock if they’d bowled with a football.

Andrew Strauss 1/10
Quickly learning that a toothy grin only gets you so far in Test match cricket, and as these rotters fail to give him dolly half-trackers to hit like his games master did, he should be sent make to Radley to play japes, scrump apples and make apple-pie beds until he can learn to play full pitched bowling. Lose that silly gap year necklace while you’re at it.

Michael Vaughan 1/10
The captain told his players not to swear. If only he’d told them not to play loose shoot and that slow, wide half-trackers was not intimidating pace bowling.

Kevin Pietersen 1/10
Kevin Pietersen bats like Kevin Pietersen. Kevin Pietersen looks to dominate. Kevin Pietersen plays in the boundary zone. That is his problem. Quit the badge kissing and play the match situation.

Paul Collingwood 1/10
Grittier than an episode of  A Touch of Frost set in a gravel quarry and equally shit. Stats reveal a series bowling average lower than his batting average maing he is a world class all rounder. Ha ha ha.

Ian Bell 1/10
Idiot boy Ian traded in his batting average for five magic jelly beans, which he planted on a good length. Over night a giant beanstalk grew. On top of the beanstalk was a coaching manual containing the secret to scoring-runs-against-decent-bowlers guarded by the ferocious giant W.G. Grace. Rather than climbing the beanstalk, Ian instead spent his time “getting out to good balls” by making an awful lot of balls look good. Pantomime spin off rumoured to feature Sophie Ellis-Bextor as Ian Bell

Matt Prior 1/10
Irongloves’ constant barrage of banalitie