Steaming in from the Beckford End, McCauley – vice to Stump’s cap’n – was pure poetry in motion, yesterday afternoon at a sultry Lansdowne cricket club. The Sloth’s away fixture was to the Star, following their no-show earlier in the season. Sadly, for the visitors, this had replaced what would have been a league fixture for their hosts. So, the Star’s team was not at the usual extra-thirds level to which Bathampton is more accustomed.

Nonetheless, together with Frith S, MC managed to both restrict the runs and take early wickets. The first of these fell to that rarest of beasts, a held slip catch. Momentarily forgetting he had no gloves on, Bond also forgot to take evasive action. Before he knew what had hit him, the ball was lodged in his mits (or lack thereof). In fairness, this was a hell of a catch, low to the ground and at pace.

An undue amount of respect was also afforded Howard, provided he pitched the ball outside the off stump. Sadly, both for him and Sloths in general, when he failed to do this, the batsmen gleefully swatted the ball to the boundary. He too took a wicket, which was almost disallowed due to the umpire-befuddling swiftness of Stump’s reactions. At first, it was thought Stu had removed the bails but all concurred that the ball had, indeed, struck the wickets unaided.

By the 20-over drinks break, things were fairly evenly poised. However, the batsmen were now beginning to settle in. One in particular. Then, faced with a Madeye melt-down, he and his partner began to make hay. In fact, despite McCauley’s exhortations to retire, he not only made hay, he also knocked up some sileage and re-thatched a small village, scoring well in excess of 100 runs.

Frith H showed maturity and resolve in floating the ball to stem the flow. Franks, then – of course – took this a step further, using such flight as to temporarily halt in-bound traffic to Bristol Airport. And the runs piled up. Paul ‘you’ve-got-to-have’ Haith bravely essayed his flat-arm, leftie, slow bowling, sometimes to good effect and securing a vital wicket. But the (privately-funded electronic) scoreboard kept ticking and the run-tally kept mounting.

With a total in excess of 270 to reach, Sloths were heartened by a flurry of raindrops during the tea interval. Sadly, though, these soon passed and it seemed they would have to do things the hard way. Amusingly, oppo reported to Chairman Franks, during the break, that their players had been worried as they were ‘bowler-heavy’. Yikes!

Cue pace, accuracy, swing and a strong argument for Sloths’ mooted investment in protective head-wear. Having said that, the pitch was well-behaved, so too the bowlers. And openers Bond and Franks did a terrific job of keeping the strike attack at bay. With pace on the ball, once these two had their eye in, any kind of connection was apt to elicit runs. So, as with the bowling, the Sloths innings began rather well.

But then came the deluge. Sadly, this was not the hoped-for downpour to hasten a retreat to a local hostelry. No. This was a litany of mis-timed shots, held catches and removed bails. I’ll spare you the details but McCauley did affect a second temporary halt to in-bound air traffic. Top edging a ball that he would ordinarily have sent crashing into the sight screen, MC was less than pleased to see this safely pouched.

With Barnes having been quickly removed, this left Stu to steady the ship and attempt to build some sort of response. In truth, it was probably already too late. However, Stu was taking his responsibilities seriously. He’d even put himself on to bowl at the end of the Star’s innings and to good effect. Now with the bat, Stump played his characteristic straight drives but also supplemented these with some more expansive cuts, sweeps and pulls.

Friths S and H both batted with resolve and solid technique. And Haith put in an excellent stint, massacring his previous personal best score, playing a solid, watchful and creative innings. In the end, these were the ‘positives’ that cliché dictates we should take from such a drubbing. At the end of the day, going forward, when all is said and done, etc. Sloths lost. Handsomely. To a far superior side. In which there is no shame.

But weren’t the teas good? Fresh roles, fresh tomatoes, cake, crisps and – wait for it… curry! This may not be a fixture everyone will be queuing up for in the near future. But if we have to lose, it may as well be on a full stomach.

Egon Ronay, Culinary Correspondent, Slothful Times