Also available in a Bob Willis stylee © Getty Images

Wednesday, 22nd February
Stung by accusations that they have been a tad complacent in light of their team’s somewhat less than triumphant excursion to the Antipodes, the BCCI has today announced a wide-ranging review. Entitled “What We Did on Our Holidays”, it will be headed by an experienced playground supervisor and will aim to get to the bottom of a number of key concerns raised by players, specifically:

1. The X-Box rotation policy limiting senior players to half an hour each
2. The way Ishant always has the volume of his iPod too high on the bus
3. Gautam’s reluctance to change his socks
4. Praveen’s annoying habit of slurping his tea
5. Viru’s refusal to sit in the front row at team meetings if Mahi is there
6. The amount of time Virat spends in the bathroom

The review will be complete by the time the players land in Delhi and is expected to conclude that after ten weeks of being cooped up in the same coaches, dressing rooms and hotel lifts it would be in the best interests of Indian cricket and the sanity of all concerned if they spent some quality time as far away from each other as possible.

Thursday, 23rd February
England’s fast bowlers may look like nice young men who spend their spare time helping elderly ladies across busy roads and retrieving kittens from high branches, but sometimes they can be grumpier than Bob Willis at a Justin Bieber concert. Today it was Steven Finn who was wearing the angry trousers, heaping abuse on a slightly nonplussed Awais Zia, both before and after he took Zia’s wicket.

To the untrained eye, this carry-on might appear to be the petulance of a schoolboy who can’t cope when things don’t go his way. But Steven is 22, so that couldn’t be it. So what was his problem? Had his ECB underpants shrunk in the wash? Were his bunions playing up? Had he overdosed on the Daily Mail? And then I worked it out. Like me, he must have sat through Sky’s pre-match unpleasantries.

We all know the drill. Every viewer must pass through an initiation ceremony, an ordeal of inanity, in order to get to the thing for which they’ve paid. Today’s theme was KP’s confidence. First the chaps in Dubai informed us that he’d be full of it. They handed back to the studio, whereupon Ian Ward asked his first guest if KP would really be full of confidence. Yes, said Rob Key, Kevin would be full of confidence.

But Ward was leaving nothing to chance and brought in Robert Croft for the Celtic angle on Pietersen’s confidence. He concluded that KP would be full of confidence. At least I think he did. Croftie has a troubled relationship with vowels and his strenuous attempts to elucidate his opinions produced the kind of jaw arrangements you might associate with a snake trying unsuccessfully to regurgitate a mouse.

It went on. A quantam of waffle from Nasser Hussain; a light shower of drivel from David Lloyd and Aamer Sohail, including an anecdote about Lloyd having to borrow a tie*; adverts for deodorant, banks and cars; and an exchange of platitudes with a bored-looking Craig Kieswetter wearing a bored-looking baseball cap. After several minutes of this, my nerves were frayed, my mute button broken and my porcelain tea service in peril. No wonder Steven was so cross. Had I been expected to go out and play cricket after that, I might not have been able to restrain myself either.

*Turns out he didn’t have a tie so he had to borrow one

Kevin Pietersen participates in bringing about the downfall of the game © PA Photos

Thursday, 26th January
Today Giles “Show me the money” Clarke issued a dire warning. Ever vigilant, like Batman in a pin-striped suit, he’s identified the biggest threat to cricket, the looming danger that could destroy our beautiful game and he wants to tell us all about it.

Is it match-fixing? Nope. Twenty20 overkill? No. What about the ongoing DRS controversy, with its corrosive effect on the authority of umpires? Not that either. The imbalance in wealth between rich and poor cricket boards? The plight of Test cricket? The threat of Premier League football? No, no and no.

It seems the biggest danger to cricket is… people watching cricket on the internet. Now I’ll be honest, until recently (this morning) I didn’t really know what pirate streaming was. It sounds like an extreme form of white-water rafting restricted to members of the piratical fraternity. In a better world, that’s what it would be.

But no. Pirate streaming is the broadcasting of cricket coverage over the internet by people who have no permission to do so. And, make no mistake, it is evil.

“They take money out of the game without commercial benefits to us.”

So says Giles. But is he right? He’s assuming that people who watch illegal footage would otherwise be forking out for a Sky subscription. But surely, if you could afford to buy a Sky subscription, you’d er… do that, rather than choose to watch jerky footage of a blurry Test match that looks like its being filmed through the balcony window of a nearby hotel?

Is it an irritation to the ECB? Yes. Ever so slightly illegal? Certainly. But the biggest danger that cricket faces? Come now, Mr Clarke, you’re being hysterical. It’s like me suggesting that the biggest threat to cricket is the impulse to make as much money as possible in the shortest possible time, regardless of the effect on the sport, its legacy or the wider cricket public (see Stanford, A).

Friday, 27th January
When I first saw the headline, I could feel the gas being turned up beneath the simmering broth of dissatisfaction that has been bubbling away on my mental stove throughout this one-sided Australian-based farce:

“Ashwin says players disappointed, not embarrassed”.

It immediately begged the question: if losing a second away series 4-0 does not embarrass them, what would? Pictures of MS Dhoni as a baby? A Justin Bieber tune discovered on Ishant’s ipod? The revelation that Zaheer used to run a lingerie boutique or that Sachin is an avid reader of the works of Mr J Archer?

But when I calmed down a little and gave it some thought, I realised that Ashwin’s statement is in the classical philosophical tradition of Stoicism. As Marcus Aurelius said at his press conference after the battle of Carnuntum in AD170, “No, I am not embarrassed that the Germans have sneaked across the Danube while I wasn’t looking. If the rational mind of a man refuses to accept embarrassment, then he is not embarrassed. And everyone knows we don’t fight as well away from home.”

In any case, it would hardly be fair to pick on Ashwin. Not only is he the team's deputy nightwatchman, he appears to be the regular press conference watchman, having been to more of these excruciating recrimination and cliché fests than any other member of the squad. How many more different ways can he find to explain why they lost in three days, why Sachin hasn’t scored his hundred yet and why his captain puts most of the fielders on the fence as soon as Australia hit fifty?

Still, I’ve a horrible feeling that his sterling work in front of the microphone won’t do him any good come scapegoat time. Virat looks to have scrambled to safety by scoring some runs and since eight-elevenths of the Indian team appears undroppable, Ashwin must already feel like the next sacrificial victim tied to the tree waiting nervously for The Srikkanth, the terrifying career-eating monster with his deadly axe.

Demons in the pitch? Freddie v Jason, no doubt © Getty Images

Wednesday, 11th January
How best to describe Sri Lanka’s batting today? Mere words can only begin to convey the wretchedness of their willow-wafting. It was more horrifying than Rick Santorum wearing a Newt Gingrich mask; messier than the state of Italy’s finances, and uglier to watch than the unveiling of the new pavilion at Headingley.

But not, I suspect, as ugly as the mood of the ordinary Sri Lankan spectator who has been asked to swallow an awful lot of ineptitude of late and who might be starting to suspect that the phrase “We’re in transition” is in fact top sports administrator code for “Help, we really don’t know what to do without Murali!”

And just what is it with the modern batsman? Accustomed to nice, well-behaved pitches, where the bounce is always ankle height and the runs flow easy, he turns into a dainty, timorous creature when faced with deliveries that deviate a millimetre from a straight line or which threaten to bounce up and tickle his tummy.

Sri Lanka’s ineptitude was summed up by Lasith Malinga. In Twenty20 World, a quick 30 from the Slinger can be the game. But faced with the need to hit a quick 270, his methods proved less effective. Going down on one knee, he swung mightily, as though trying to get them all in one shot. Naturally, he missed.

Thursday, 12th January
There is a lot of speculation ahead of India’s defeat in Perth about what kind of team they are going to pick. I have no inside knowledge, but experience leads me to suggest that the kind of team they will pick will be one that looks good on paper, sets off with purpose, gets within sniffing distance of the outskirts of victory, then wanders off to sit in a field making daisy chains before falling asleep under a bush.

You know, the usual.

But MS Dhoni, a man who can rival Chris Gayle in the unflappable/laidback/not-appearing-to-be-all-that-bothered-actually stakes, is in a philosophical mood.

“You lose a few series, you lose a few games. As long as you are competing, it is good.”

It rather depends. If by “competing” he means, “turning up and running about a bit like it says we have to do in our BCCI contracts” then yes, India have been competing. But it’s not the kind of competing that we might expect from a team that was No. 1 not so long ago. But hang on. Is there another reason for their poor efforts?

“In England, we weren’t really there, so we didn’t perform to our potential.”

What do you mean, you weren’t really there? Is this just sportsman’s speak, a derivation of the cliché about parties? You know the one: “We didn’t come to the party, so obviously we didn’t get a go on the karaoke machine or have a chance to sample the buffet or get to show off our dance moves and we don’t know who did what with whom at the party, which is disappointing, but hopefully we will be invited to the party next time.”

Or was Dhoni being literal. What if he has accidentally let the feline out of the holdall? What if they really weren’t there in England and they aren’t there in Australia either? Perhaps, worn out by the excessive demands of their fans/accountants/agents, they’ve taken these series off and sent in their place a plausible cast of doubles, impersonators and, in the case of VVS, a realistically dressed mannequin.

It would explain a lot.

"And they said my dives are more like Italian footballers' attempts to get penalties" © Getty Images

Saturday, 7th January
Although India’s rickety cart, minus wheels, driver and horses, did eventually come to a crashing halt, the prayers offered to the God of Revenue Maximisation by the SCG treasurer were answered and the mirage of the golden century was still flickering come the morning of the fourth day.

I reckon if you could calculate it, you’d find that Sachin’s failure to score a hundred is one of Test cricket’s most valuable assets. Cricket boards around the world will soon start factoring it into their budgets, wondering if they can get away with charging a “Sachin Century Possibility Premium” when India arrive.

I feel about the Sachin ton a little bit like I used to feel about Christmas as a child. It took so long to arrive that by the time it did, there was no possible way it could live up to the anticipation and you knew that it probably wouldn’t, but still that didn’t prevent you from giving your fevered imagination free rein.

Perhaps when it comes, the century will bring the cosmic cricket forces into balance and herald a new golden age. Jaded old cricketers will throw off their cynicism and come running onto the pitch to embrace. Ian Chappell and Ian Botham will sing “I Got You Babe,” in the centre of the WACA and doves will take off from all directions as petals fall on the outfield. In the days after the century, maybe Pakistan will be allowed to host Tests again, the World Test Championship will return, the DRS system will be made mandatory and Bob Willis will finally get his own chat show.

It is, of course, possible that none of these things will happen and that the event will pass with just a wave of the bat and an extra digit in the records. But you never know. And in the meanwhile, can I interest you in a commemorative signed photograph of Sachin almost scoring his hundredth hundred? Yours for only $99.99

Monday, 9th January
I have an apology to make. I have over the months made the occasional cheap jibe at the expense of a certain Sussex performer. I have called him Luke Wrong. I have averred that if he’s an international cricketer, then I’m a Dutchman. I have suggested that he patents the straight up in the air shot, an art in which he even surpasses the master, Shahid Afridi. Well I was wrong. Call me Ronald van Humble.

Today he heaved nine sixes and eight fours in a rampage of willow-wafting that had me so astonished that I fear I may need surgery to return my eyebrows to their correct position. The list of impressive blonds called Luke that I have seen in my lifetime now extends to two and given that Luke Skywalker was, I have to reluctantly accept, a fictional character, the Luke from Grantham is probably at the top of the list.

Tuesday, 10th January
Brad Haddin has copped some flak for suggesting that India are fragile and that they break quicker than anyone in the world, but I think a little understanding is called for. Having been a regular in the Australian team for the last three years, he’s seen a collapse or two so he knows what he’s talking about. Indeed, coming from an Australian cricketer of recent vintage, his comments could be taken as a kind of compliment; like one cowboy builder with a record of collapsing structures admiring an even bigger ruin brought about by another firm of dodgy constructors.

Then there is the psychological factor. We all remember from our school days that the loudest name-callers have often borne the brunt of such bullying themselves. People are saying nasty things about Brad; that he can’t catch, that he doesn’t know which end of the bat to hold, that Brad’s a silly name, that he wears his baggy green all wrong, that he can’t tie his shoelaces, that his mother cuts his hair; this kind of thing; so in time honoured schoolyard tradition, he goes and picks on someone else.

No, the Indian players shouldn’t worry too much about the fact that an Australian called Brad is saying these things; they should worry about the fact that he’s right.

It isn't widely known that the combination of alcohol, sun and cricket makes a person smarter than George Bush at a world environment forum © Getty Images

Wednesday, 4th January
Catching up with old news today, I came across something I’d missed just before the holidays. It was a piece of work by an Australian economist. Now, normally speaking I’d give no more credence to the analysis of an economist than I would to the man who predicted that the world would end last May or to the theory that all the major nations are secretly ruled by moustachioed reptiles from another planet.

This is because, as far as I can tell, economics is about as scientific as water divining, creationism or the sticking-a-pin-in-the-sports-pages method of betting on the horses (a method which, coincidentally, is very popular in Wall Street stock-trading circles).

But this economist wasn’t banging on about the usual mumbo jumbo; fiscal restraint, quantitative easing and suchlike. He was talking about something that really mattered: namely, whether or not Sachin Tendulkar or Don Bradman was the best.

Now I know this is a subject that can get some people lathered up and I have generally steered clear of it. As a neutral, it has often struck me that to wade into this particular squabble would be as foolish as intervening in a fight between two angry cats. Unless one of the cats happens to be yours, it’s sensible to leave them to it.

But economists are made of sterner stuff. The plucky chap had decided to settle things statistically by using mechanisms called “opportunity cost” and “supernormal profit”, which sound like horrendous torture devices designed to torment undergraduates, but which, when applied to the facts, told him definitively that Sachin is best.

And who knows, perhaps he is. But there is one statistic that refuses to go away, the enormous iceberg in the water that threatens to sink the pro-Sachin argument. 99.94. If you rate Sachin’s undoubtedly splendid average of 56.03 as the more impressive, then where does this leave Hammond, Headley, Sutcliffe, Hutton, Ponsford, McCabe and all the others who were utterly dwarfed statistically by the Don?

And if he benefited from fewer opponents, easier pitches or the absence of post-match interviews with Mark Nicholas, then how was it that not one of those other fine players of legend were able to benefit from the same conditions and all trailed in his wake statistically, like little boys trying to keep pace with a marathon runner.

But, perhaps, before we take these findings too seriously, we need to know more about the record of the man responsible. Specifically, we need to know whether this particular economist predicted the credit crunch and the global economic crisis. And if he didn’t, then perhaps we need not worry too much about his cricket analysis.

Thursday, 5th January
Whilst I don’t often feel sympathy for the lot of the professional cricketer, I feel compelled to defend Mr Kohli. I didn’t see the incident live but one Indian channel helpfully provided a photograph of his Sydney gesticulation, with the naughty digit deliberately blurred to spare our feelings. Or perhaps there’s something intrinsically offensive about Virat’s middle finger? At any rate, we got the picture.

Now, of course, in the normal run of events, a professional on duty should not be doing such things. And yes, we spectators are not mere cheerleaders; we pay our money and we are entitled to air our views, even if we slur some of the words.

But if you aim abuse at a fellow human being, then you should expect abuse in return. If you or I were to approach Virat in a shopping mall and, from a distance of a few yards away, shout that we thought his hair looked silly, that he can’t throw for toffee and that his mother’s tea was undrinkable, we should expect that he may want to come over and offer us the benefit of his opinion.

So why do some people think that the possession of a match ticket, a t-shirt with a witless slogan and a large foam finger exempts them from the normal rules of civilised society? If I had any money, I’d happily pay Virat’s fine.