It was a heart-warming sight, yesterday evening, to witness the arrival of Sloth Glastonbury refugees. In scenes reminiscent of the Calais Jungle, they dragged their tired and broken limbs to the safe haven that is Sloth HQ. All appeared to have survived the various ordeals and challenges of the Pilton tour. These included (but were by no means restricted to) the partaking of D’Pipe’s nasal spray and sampling of an unidentified brown liquid. We can only hope the latter was Coke, as a mushroom-tea sponsorship could be complicated. Sadly, however, Cawley was still nowhere to be seen.

Double-agent Painter – always a welcome presence – was, on this occasion, here to represent the opposition, Offsiders. Painter clearly had divided loyalties. Hitting a commanding 25 in short order, he later dropped a catch and missed a run-out in the same ball. Also, on the missed-chances front, Howard was so distracted preparing Madeye and Gordon for a probable nick-through from Yerbury’s bowling, that he wasn’t ready to hold-on to the ensuing prod to short mid-off.

Horcrux was kept busy on the short boundary, often left to marshal half the field alone. He was berated by McCauley for sliding, instead of taking the ball one-handed and throwing-in in one motion. Luc, however, had the presence of mind to realise he was not playing international cricket and put safety first. He probably saved a good 20 runs and took a fine catch from a lofted full toss. Meanwhile, on the opposite, long boundary, Fresh – having divested himself of offspring – took a magnificent catch on the run at deep extra cover.

Tom McBoatface both opened and closed the bowling from the top end, almost concluding with a hat trick in his final over. Almost. Plaudits also to Fresh for sticking to his line and length, tumbling the wickets after several probable LBWs went by.

In the absence of Stumpchat, it was great to have another recognised wicket keeper available, in newbie James Cordon. Evidently released from interviewing duties, James had proved his worth in the Dads game and was quickly recruited to the Sloth ranks. However, he was relegated to the field and not given a bowl. No idea why. Ask the skipper.

But no matter, Cordon (oh, ‘Gordon’? – sorry, I thought he’d lost weight…) opened the batting and was thus able to show his true worth. As Notley opened his account with consecutive fours, Gordon asked the umpire at the non-striker’s end if he is always like this. ‘Not really’ came the reply. Tom was clean bowled next ball. Fresh was similarly eager to get things moving but also dismissed by a quick, full, ball that barely left the turf. Luc followed suit. So, it fell to McCauley to help Gordon build an innings.

And build they did. With both players timing their shots sweetly, they could happily pick off the singles between magnificent boundaries to keep the score ticking over. Probably the shot of the match came from McCauley: a Stumpchat-esque back-foot drive straight past the bowler, up the hill, for four. When Offsiders reintroduced one of their more intimidating strike bowlers, later in the innings, it looked as though things may take a turn. However, he over-pitched consecutive balls and these were swatted away for two sixes and a four.

Whilst Sloths had been well on target to reach the required 115 runs, they did falter somewhat towards the end. Bond’s refusal to run between the wickets led to McCauley all but self-combusting as the run rate slowed. However, Bond was simply waiting for the bad ball, which he duly dispatched to the boundary. Wickets continued to fall but both McCauley and Gordon were retired and available, if required, to finish things off.

So, did Sloths end the innings in a blaze of glory? No. Of course not. They won the game with a whimper, largely through the wide deliveries and bves of Offsiders’ lower-order bowling. So embarrassed was umpire Notley, on realising he had awarded a wide to provide the winning score, that he tried to rescind his decision. There followed an awkward hiatus. The scorer was poised with pen above paper to mark off the final run. The scoreboard operator was hovering with the remaining digit in hand. And the players looked-on, to see whether this was, indeed, the end.

It was. And, to be honest, nobody was really surprised. The damage had been done much earlier by Sloth bowlers and fielders, restricting some strong Offsider batsmen to a modest score. Coupled with the solid platform of Gordon and McCauley’s batting, Sloths would have done very poorly indeed not to secure the win. But stranger things have happened.

After the game, players were happy to help finish off left-overs from a KES jolly in the pavilion. This had spilled-over to enhance the atmosphere with a lubricated balcony full of captive spectators. One pink-shirted onlooker, apparently taking a shine to McCauley, had observed ‘Oh, he looks like me!’. To which Paul’s inevitable response was ‘In your dreams mate’. We can expect the pitch fees to be going up some time soon.

Once the good of the parish had absented themselves, Sloths were able to open the mobile bar, which was swiftly emptied. We were then treated to the musings of Sage Lodge. Jon, due to digital miscommunication, had arrived expecting to play, only to find himself twelfth man. Taking his duties seriously (and with a healthy intake of liquids), Lodge offered wise council in the form of sledging, verbal abuse and helpful advice to skipper Bond, as he singlehandedly cleared the empties.

• So, is this the dawn of a new era, with a fresh influx of cricketing Bathampton Dads?
• Will Bond and McCauley finally come to blows at the crease?
• What was that mysterious light emanating from Brown’s Folly, in the gathering darkness?
• Where does SDS keep his secret stash of cider?

Answers, please, on a discarded Sloth bat and placed in the bonfire at the next AGM…

Harry Carpenter; boxing correspondent; Slothful Times