Sloths vs Winsley @ Winsley CC, 13th May 2026

Into the second week of May we stride, and the Sloths face a hefty 3 fixtures in one week, with two on consecutive nights! A (currently) thriving squad of Sloths meant that there were 9 players playing on Wednesday who didn’t play the night before, an impressive feat!

Slotherly by nature, the toss being won by StumpChat, the only sane option was to bat. With Qayoom & Captain Carling opening the charge, showing a combination of power hitting and silky stroke play saw them both retire. A highlight was Qayoom sending some massive sixes out of the ground whilst wearing a Winsley top, without any hint of irony. Alongside this, Jimmy calmly compiled an innings giving himself the time he needed without his pre-match burger and 2 pints. 

Good Will was getting pinned down by some accurate bowling, and then fully climbed into a length delivery and sent it for an almighty six over a huge tree, the silence felt even more silent after the thwack from his bat as we all watched it disappear into the distance. After  then telling himself to be “THE Good Will” and not get himself out bowled, he was duly bowled. But fair play it was a real nut. Kirsty comes out and tells himself to make sure he sees off his first ball by getting on the front foot and defending because he knows the location location location it’ll land. Immediately he was then bowled, by not going backwards or forwards, to a swinging beaut of a ball. Out came Ish with an adult sized bat (what was he thinking) to deny the young Winsley bowler his hat trick glory (was it a sign of things to come?). True to his batting style (swinging from the hip) he sent his 2nd ball high into the WiItshire sky to hit a ridge tile on the clubhouse. His giddyness was his downfall, holding out to long on going big again. I blame the fullsized bat, stick to the Harrows I say. 

HRP strutted into bat and declared “hammy is a bit tight, I’ll need to warm up running”, but was confusingly VERY keen to take a single after dropping it 3 foot from the bowler. Umpire Porridge had to remind him “this isn’t indoor”. Stump at the other end by now, clearly lacking batting practice, relied on his winter fitness conditioning to force HRP and Qadeem to run 2s by default. The young Qadeem was struggling to keep his box in place, but begrudgingly obliged whilst what appeared to be a gesture of grabbing his nuts and shouting “it’s too big”. We’ve all got problems and this correspondent wouldn’t mind that one. The youth of today (grumble, grumble, grumble).

All in all 150 runs amassed over 18 overs. A solid return. 

A fast turn around brought the dynamic duo of Qayoom & Ish to open up. Pace and a straight line had the batters digging balls off their toes. Ish found his 5th stump line and drew the batter into a wafty drive, kissing the edge much to his confusion. Like Manchester United fans circa 2017, DD shouted “attack, attack, attack” throwing Qadeem onto bowl. Seeing the batters out of their crease trying to negate his skiddy bounce, StumpChat decided a dark Wiltshire evening was an appropriate time to stand up. The stumping chance came but he took the bails before catching the ball WHOOPSIE DOOPSIE. Less “shabas” more “shit bastard”. It’s the trying that counts. 

Good Will was the counter balance from the other end (well the same end as its early-season rules but I haven’t got a better term for it) throwing down niggly length balls propelled by his towering biceps. The batters feeling stuck made the mistake of having a desperate swing and sent it directly to Gorgeous George at mid-off, taking the catch despite not seeing the ball for 80% of its journey. 

Jimmy lobed up his loopy leggies and after a few looseners got a gem above the eye line, the batter saw total glory in front of him, sprinted down the track to try and plant the ball out of the ground, but missed the ball and StumpChat (this time) managed to catch the ball first before gleefully taking the bails. The real tale of Jimmy’s fielding innings was his catch. At mid-wicket the ball was thumped at him over his head. Captain Carling became more Captain Birdseye, leaping into the year and extending his right hand to take the ball behind him and also survive thumping into the ground. Then announcing “I did not know my body could still do that”.

DD continued with his aggressive field, decreeing “let’s force him to play through us”, as the batter then immediately played through us. Despite hobbling around with one functioning hamstring (why were Sloth hamstrings going?) Qadeem took every opportunity to hurl the ball in at full youthful pelt, sending grown men cowering as it cannoned towards the stumps.

With the top order gone, Porridge’s name was called. Off three steps he produced 3 wickets in 4 balls. Bowled, caught and another bowled swinging in to take leg stump. The less said about the actual hatrick ball the better. We needed a name for this feat as 3 in 4 balls is no joke. The debate ensued;  “half hat trick”, “your mummy loves you hatrick” and “shitcunt hat trick” were the favourites on the evening but please send in your better suggestions. 

Having taken 9 wickets the Winsley retiree wasn’t ready to return so we gave the No.11 a go since he hadn’t faced a ball. Spirit of Sloth was strong, as was the 64 run winning margin. Contributions were made all round and sweet, sweet victory rained supreme. Winsley were great hosts, really getting the idea that it’s about playing to win but not at the expense of having fun.

It leaves me to ponder;

• If the fear to create an accurate book to avoid Ant’s wrath causes sloths to pour Pepsi on the book, should Ant chill out about shitty score books?
• Who can leap higher; Jimmy Carling or Micheal Jordan carrying a three-clawed Sloth?
• If the sloths can win by over 50 runs on a heavy rolled pitch, or one that’s never seen a roller, what should the oppo do to create unfavourite conditions to this rambling collection of sleepy mammals? 
• Sloths 4 games in are undefeated they make it five from five?

Yours slotherly,

7 Fingered Sloth, Special Reporter

vs The Offsiders @ KES Playing Fields, Bathampton, 5th May 2026

The Sloths returned to Fortress Bathampton for the beginning of the 2026 season in sprightly fashion. A plethora of Sloths arrived on time, vastly outnumbering The Offsiders, and thus it was wisely declared that the Sloths take the field. Lazarus readily gloved up and The Colonel ran a fielding drill, which (don’t worry reader) quickly descended into him berating the Sloths for their lack of discipline within said drill. Once the Sloths finally got into the rhythm of the tricky “it’s just logical really” drill, enough Offsiders had turned up for them to field, and so for some unknown reason Fresh then decided the Sloths would have a bat, poor Lazurus having to de-glove. The old switcheroo ay Johnny, that’ll keep ‘em guessing!

There was a contrast of styles opening the batting as The Doc stroked the ball through point and balletically lifted over the covers, while Ish swung hard and, often, missed the ball. Bad Will got a rare good pill that clattered his middle stump, while Gorgeous mopped up the short stuff to the exceptionally short leg-side boundary. However, a lush outfield on the off-side agonisingly held the ball up repeatedly on the rope and resulted in much frowned-upon running between the wickets. One can only imagine the jealousy of already-out Bad Will at this point, who hadn’t gone for a run in at least half an hour and was starting to get twitchy. To make himself feel better, as umpire he gave Fresh run out even though he was standing basically next to him. Porridge and Laz scuttled some quick runs, with Porridge going for broke off the last ball of the innings and chipping a catch to mid-wicket. Only to then find out there were two more deliveries left.

Sloths entered the field buoyant, setting a healthy target of who-knows-what off 18 overs, and skipping into their fielding positions as the church bells rang across the field. Oh what a sound! How gallant! How… long do you think they’ll go on for? Oh wow they really aren’t stopping. Wait, can anyone else still hear those bells or is it just me?

To this incessant soundtrack Sloths bowled beautifully, with Ish sending down a cracker to hit top of off and Bad Will, atoning somewhat for his golden duck, by taking a wicket with his very first ball. Just don’t mention how well The Colonel bowled for no wickets whatsoever, nobody mention it, ok. Porridge actually took a wicket maiden on his first time bowling in a few years so probably don’t mention that to him either. The Offsiders’ reply didn’t really get going, with the main reason being that wherever they hit the ball, there was Brent to deliver a fielding masterclass. A slog down to long on? There was Brent thundering in from the boundary. A cut to point? A diving Brent to stop the run. Surely he’s not at square leg too? You bet your chilly bin he is! At the end of the night, it became customary for everyone to sign off with “well played Brent” before heading home. Ant bowled the 14th over and the 18th over, as Captain Fresh appeared to forget him immediately after he bowled his first over of tweakers. Lazarus was liquid behind the stumps, receiving many plaudits, and calls of “where has this guy been?!”, “it’s nice to have a keeper who can actually catch”, before then missing a dolly of a run out chance. Ah cricket, the great leveller!

Ending in a dominant victory, the giddy Sloths then chinned lukewarm cans of varying sizes (yet all charged at the same price) and gushed at the joys of the cricket seasons’ return.

The talented Rick revealed he has created some kind of autonomous AI bot that will churn the Sloth batting and bowling figures from the scorebook and create a stats-database for all and sundry to delve into, all a Sloth had to do was take a photo of the scorebook for the process to work…

Vs Stellas Select @ Hampset (again), 31st July 2025

Compliments and critique can be wielded like weapons in the hands of some. None more so than the Elder Sloths who can scythe through fields of wheat with their words like a young Theresa May. First, we have The Gas Man who revealed with no subtlety whatsoever that the only reason Porridge was in the team was so a match report would be scribed. Is this a compliment? Is he a fanatical fan of metaphor-lined cricket reports that barely mention the actual action? Thusly, Porridge might feel a praise for his writings but, hang on, does that also mean that he’s shit at cricket?! Swooping in on this confusion lands Jonty Feedback Frith who immediately offers sympathy to Porridge for how hard it is to bowl when the ball is inswinging out of the hand like that. Oh, thanks Jonty, yes I suppose it was swinging a lot (and oh aren’t I so talente…) …yes and if only you could actually bowl straight you’d be able to harness this. Oh and your second over, well, that got a tad worse didn’t it. Oh, do you mean the head high beamers? Yes, well, at least they were straight. Brilliant. Not so much following the well-worn path of delivering feedback in a shit sandwich as just delivering shit really. But both Elders presented these verbal grenades with a disarming geniality that just so proves that cricket brings with it all that is good and, often, all that is equally bad.

This Thursday evening at a post-apocalyptic-thunderstorm Hampset CC was a case study in all that is cricket. Take bowling, for example, from a vantage point at deep square leg, whence I was leaning on the nearest available vertical object, Lazarus’ bowling looked like it was all regular, perfect line and length. Right up until the umpire repeatedly raised both arms after each delivery and Vib behind the stumps was scampering to collect. Sam Frith was back into the action like he’d never been away, stroking through the covers with a cultured blade before Ish greedily called him through for a second run on a mis-field that was never there and he was comprehensively run out. The Gas Man hit a remarkable 28 n/o before receiving a compliment on his batting, to which he replied that yes he actually tried to concentrate on batting this time, oh it’s really that easy everyone, just concentrate ok. Riccay bowled with venom and received no reward but did take an excellent grab at mid-off to give Ish a wicket and nearly dislocate one of his essential keyboard fingers, is this a reward? HRP sprinted full whack to cut off a ball at the boundary, reaching the ball magnificently at full speed and then forgot to actually bend down to stop it. Dan O revelled in turning up just to spend time umpiring, before bowling tidily and then spending the rest of the time in the field praying for the ball to stay away from him, sometimes actively patting the ball away from him hoping someone else would take it. Brent actually went home without taking a wicket so must be as furious as a Kiwi ever gets, maybe he’ll gently kick a bin on his way back to the car to teach it what-for.

Dear reader, this must all sound like a gripe! Picking away at the bones to find the negatives but no, this is a celebration of the spectacular failures, for that is what makes the ups so, up. As Sloths strolled to victory by 40 runs much joy was had in the comradery and shared trauma of the lived experience. Followed with hearty, active discussion of the anti-social Oldfield Park crows, Wiltshire peacocks (do they exist or no?) and the ruminations of why the hell are shuttlecocks called shuttlecocks. All failures were forgiven and added to the pot of stewing goodness that is the cricket season. So after an obscene amount of rain and a hellish sky comes the sunshine on a Thursday night at Hampset in high-summer, as what goes down must come up.

Vs Stella Select, @ Hampset CC, 3rd July 2025

Stella away games hold a special place in some Sloth hearts. Fresh usually books away games in car parks, schools or random fields. So to visit a proper, functioning cricket club with a working bar is a special treat.

The village adage was applied at the toss, “we have less players here than you so we should bat first”. Expert tactics from captain Fresh, knowing that this Sloth line up was a bowling powerhouse.

Sloths inserted, they peppered the preposterously short boundary, pouncing on anything short of a length to mercilessly hit the boundary netting willy-nilly. Laurie expertly swung and missed for an entire over, to lure in a false sense of security for the Stella attack, before then unleashing the hounds of hell in the next over. Matt Can’t-Bat Cox once again demonstrated his lack of batting by losing two balls, one in a hedge over the longest boundary and one over the 30 foot boundary netting into an Odd Down garden or somewhere down the hill at Dunkerton. It was an onslaught. A battering. Multiple Ben Ducketts in disguise. Whispers on the boundary spoke of a possible record. Loose lips muttered “could this be a 200 score?”. HA HA laughed Mother Cricket upon hearing such tomfoolery and, thus, Sloth wickets fell at once. Fresh played on, Jimmer looped to long-off, Stumpchat fluffed a leading edge to mid-off, The Gas Man was run out Johnny-Bairstowing-at-Lords-2023 and it took some late bashing by Ish and nurdling by Porridge to set the imposing target of 175 for a Stella victory on a dustbowl of a wicket.

Stellas lined up to tackle this mountain with a reversed batting order and were faced with the oncoming storm of Fahim and Quayom. Bowling a meaty full length, poles were taken and forward, defensive prods fully tested. HRP, Ish and Matt Can’t Bat continued this oppression, forcing Stellas to play across the line and then hear their stumps explode behind them in a cloud of splinters and sadness. Feeling the relief of some spin, Stella looked to score against Jimmer who then ragged one out of the dust to clatter the stumps. Resplendent in a new mid-week kit, Stellas looked like suped-up tuna marines that kept appearing at the wicket, to then immediately be darting back upstream to the safe pond of the pavilion. Lawrie proved too much, his left arm delivery from straight-out of the setting sun unnerved batters and, with two batters clean bowled in-a-row, he set up a hat-trick chance. 3 slips then lined up and immediately panicked as the delivery was sent down outside off. The wise-head at the crease left alone and regular Sloth service continued. As Sloth skip Fresh delicately described it “Porridge, you’re bowling from this end with the weak, shit and old Sloths” while at the other end, out of the amber setting sun flew the sprightly Sloths to demolish Stella souls.

As the target disappeared into the distance, HRP, returning for his third spell, took the final wicket and thus a comprehensive Sloth victory was secured in the dying embers of a mid-summer evening.

Over pork scratchings and actual non-cool-box-pints Sloths conversed about meaningful current events, such as: is padel better than tennis? Do we need pectoral muscles, really? Should we just continue to pay for remedial sports massages or actually stretch and warm up properly? Naaaaa another Thatchers for me please, I’ll stretch down when I’m dead.

Once in a generation, a talent emerges with skills already so honed that the cricketing world can only stop and admire what might lie ahead.
James “Colonel” Mustard is one such player — brutal with the bat, devastating with the ball, and salmon-like in the field. We may well have witnessed the birth of a cricketer for the ages. But let’s rewind a second…
On a hot and sultry Bathampton night, the Sloths prepared to do battle with the Beavers in a game that promised half-fit, middle-aged men being bowled for a golden duck or sending down four wides an over — but instead delivered an elite display of everything that’s great about West Country amateur cricket played on private school pitches.
The Beavers started strongly, with a procession of excellent batsmen arriving at the crease one after another, smashing fours and sixes before retiring in quick succession. Despite the onslaught, the Sloths’ bowling was typically solid, with good spells (in places) from Bash, Joel, The Racing Snake, Tom, HRP, Ant, Nick, and Brent. The Gasman, in particular, was clearly rattled by an uncharacteristically expensive first over — only to respond with a stunning caught-and-bowled that left the game delicately poised.
With the match in the balance, it was time for an unfit player struggling with heat stroke and dizziness to shine. Jimmy used his vertigo to full effect, bowling a leg spin delivery so high in the sky it caused a minor solar eclipse, distracting the Beaver batsman just long enough for keeper Roy to do the rest. This wicket brought in Mustard — a player so adored by his Beaver teammates, failure simply wasn’t an option.
After a couple of sighters, he unleashed himself on the Sloth attack, picking his shots with a succession of fours. Like Graeme Hick before he played for England, Mustard revealed a previously unknown shot range and intensity to his game — clearly buoyed by the chance to shine in his Beaver colours. As Mustard batted on the total soared past 150, and the Sloths faced a daunting chase.
The men from Bathampton made a strong start with the bat. Nic looked typically graceful at the crease, making an unbeaten 30 over two sessions, while Jimmy timed the ball nicely to reach 13 before being well caught. His dismissal triggered a flurry of quick wickets, with that man the Colonel himself taking a stunning catch for the ages off a skied one from Roy. Showing a yard of pace and agility not seen in his time wearing sloth colours the proud Beaver didn’t disappoint.
After the dismissal of Joe for 6, HRP and Riccay came in to steady a creaking ship, with HRP swiping two monster sixes off his pads — widely described by onlookers (i.e. Jimmy) as the finest shots of HRP’s illustrious career. Rick’s casual approach to running was on display once again with his scoring options limited to either a languidly run single or a 4!
More wickets fell, including an unlucky golden duck run-out from Brent and the after effects of servicing Glastonbury VIPs triggering some overly optimistic strokeplay from Ant, before Bash entered for a stunning 22 at number 10 — a quickfire knock that will surely see him climb at least nine places in the batting order in time for the next game.
Sadly, it wasn’t quite enough to chase down the Beavers’ daunting total. Thirty-two needed off the last over was too much, even for the impressive Nic and Bash and the sloths fell short. As the Beavers rushed to embrace their hero Captain Colonel Mustard it felt like the end of one chapter and the start of another for the man from Bedminster.

As the warm June sun beat down on the lush grass of KES, a group of tired men from the village of Bathampton prepared to do battle once again. Could the decade-long Sloth winning streak be maintained, or would the dads, many of whom are now so old their kids don’t even go to school anymore, finally triumph?

Two makeshift squads of Sloths, dads, and famous TV presenters had been hastily assembled in the preceding days, and it was the horizontal half of the village who opted to bat first, despite having just 8 recognised players as the game started. To everyone’s surprise, Phil from Kirsty and Phil fame, clearly on location in Bathampton, played his first cricket match in 40 years, his property business having curtailed what could have been a promising career as an all-rounder.

The KES kestrel Dan O looked in fine form again with an unbeaten 29, supported in places by Ricky and Lawrie. SDS, Ant, and Brent upheld the traditional Sloth batting ethos, whilst Porridge knicked and nurdled his way to an unbeaten 27, with support from Jimmy, who looked in a hurry to take his helmet off due to another dizzy spell, probably caused by being in such close proximity to Phil from Phil and Kirsty.

At the close of the innings, the Sloths had managed an impressive 125 off 18 overs, which was nearly the same amount the Sunday sloth team had scored in 35 overs!

The Sloths made a strong start to the bowling, with The Doc removed cheaply and Ant taking the other opener. It was at this point that the dads showed their class, with runs coming quickly from all areas of the ground despite solid bowling and high-class fielding particularly from Laz at cover. Jimmy misheard the instruction not to throw the ball hard at the stumps and preceded to throw it as hard as he possibly could for 4 costly overthrows.

With the game in balance, it was time for Phil to shine, with the veteran picking his location, location, location with each shot. With former Sloth stalwart Dan Darwin moonlighting for the dads at number 7, it was clear the game was up, and a well-deserved victory for the dads was achieved in the final over with a stunning four back past the bowler.

Over beers the sloths pondered the big questions. Does it matter if you don’t play cricket for 40 years? What’s the line between a Bathampton Dad and a Bathampton Sloth? Was that Kirsty in the car park with the shades on? Who knows…

Don’t think us unkind
Words were hard to find
as Bathampton Cricketers unsigned
Battled with sloths of twisted mind

And as their bowling escaped me
And the batsman to the boundary made me

We beat de school, de dads ya ya
Is all we want to say to you
We beat the school, de dads ya ya
Their innocence will pull them through
We beat the school, de dads ha ha
Is all we want to say to you
We beat de school, de dads ya ya
Its meaningless and all that’s true

Poets, priests and architects
Cricket thanks them as rejects
Balls that scream for your submission
And no one’s batting their transmission

‘Cause when the Kestrel adds fuel
Or SDS in fact bowls you…

We beat de school, de dads ya ya
Is all we want to say to you
We beat the school, de dads ya ya
Their innocence will pull them through
We beat the school, de dads ha ha
Is all we want to say to you
We beat de school, de dads ya ya
Its meaningless and all that’s true

(Dey did do Do! Hey didn’t do da!
Tom, HRP, James and that Dan
Made a sloth look better than nathing!
Being both Sloth and dad made them pucker
but at least they qualified as sloth mother f.*&)@*

Having vowed not to play April games, due to being a proper sloth of old and acknowledgment of the “laws of hibernation” – I had missed the first three games of our season. In fact had missed nets altogether out of shear laziness, again see being an elder sloth.

Looking at Hampset / Stella as an opening fixture seemed perfect. I remembered them well as a bunch of unfit, aging, semi-alcoholic, half talented cricketers much like ourselves, if not more so. Arriving I suddenly realised that I had in all actuality, missed two seasons, three games and nets. Before me stood the “sons of Stella”, far fitter, less aged, probably tee total and talented.  Fek!

Batting, Brent and Painter opened magnificently and Captain Harding had decided to bat me 3 as a punishment (not sure who’s). I had kitted up and noted, not for the first time may I say, the club funds hadn’t purchased the long handled bat (requested at AGM’s 2019 through to 2024, pre AGM meetings and any other chance I could). Typical. Having donated my long handle bat to the club years back, it’s a sore point. The difference being that extra inch, which I have come to find makes the difference.

I batted badly mainly looking giving strike to the better batsman (everyone). And being a poor workman (cricketer) I will blame the tools. Failing to find a boundary on a pitch set for 11-year-olds, I scored a measly 6 runs off more overs and was eventually run out by umpire Frank. Who was kind enough to point out I had in fact had bat over the crease – just not grounded it. It had been about an inch above.

This ironic cruelty saved us the match as we had a depth of talent in the wings waiting for me to get out. Had we used it sooner – we may have one.

Sloths bowled well on a hard and unpredictable ground – Jimmi taking young fresh’s delivery 10 yards back and above his head. Brent and Ed bowling superbly and taking the final overs – as we were short a player. I should have gone to the nets and went for 19 no wickets.

We ended up in a tie – which although exciting, means you then go away knowing that, one run more batting, one run less bowling would have made the difference. One extra inch…

I went home and bought a sodding long handled bat.