Sunday at Prior Park saw a new encounter for Sloths, facilitated – I believe – by our ecumenical mole, agent Frith. In spite of a characteristically slow take-up of team places, Sloths managed to field 11, whilst the home team struggled (presumably due to a higher calling) to fill their ranks. However, this was a good-natured and ultimately hard-fought game. And the tea was borderline-Pristonesque in both quality and abundance.

Back from a 15-year absence from the fair game – having transferred to softball and had reconstructive shoulder surgery – Johnny fresher-than-Freshmeat proved an excellent find. Bowling accurately and with pace and movement, as well as taking catches for both teams, one wonders whether he is – in fact – Sloth material at all. Talking of softball: Bond this week decided to use his gloves throughout his wicketkeeping stint, deferring the midriff fielding duties to Chairman Franks, hanging loose at silly mid-off.

Howard would have a had a wicket in his first over, had it not been for Madeye enthusiastically setting off in the wrong direction. However, he soon made the breakthrough, taking wickets aplenty for runs a-few (no – not seen the scorebook at all). Hewston had a tidy opening spell, testing the openers with flight and turn and Hewes swung the ball consistently, to the extent he was wided more than once with a ball that was originally heading for middle. He, too, took wickets of an indeterminate quantity for a, presumably, modest quantity of runs.

Lodge, having hit the wickets early on in his spell, later decided that dropping the ball short for batsmen who invariably hit to leg would elicit catches, provided Hewston was somewhere within that half of the field. Which worked. Again. And again. Credit to Hewston for holding said catches, most of which would have eluded the majority of Sloths (well, this one anyway).

With five overs remaining of St Johns’ innings, the home side had been confined to a score that would look more at home within a 20-over game. But, with their numbers depleted, St Johns’ openers were able to return for a second bite of the polo-mint-shiny (on one side) cherry. Now with eyes very much in, they only had these for one thing: the boundary. And this, suddenly, appeared to have become a lot smaller.

Said eyes then fairly popped out of the captain’s head when he spied lofted slow bowling coming his way in the final over. Suffice to say that a squadron of players’ offspring had to be deployed in order to retrieve successive balls from beyond the chain-link of adjacent tennis courts. And, all of a sudden, St Johns’ total had accelerated to 174 from 30 overs. Which left the visitors somewhat shell-shocked and disorientated as they consoled themselves with sandwiches and cakes, which were – of course – heavenly.

Not only did the home skipper provide a final batting display the likes of which have not been seen by this correspondent since watching Sir Garfield Sobers in the 1970s but he also opened the bowling, kept wicket, umpired and – quite possibly – made the teas, ran the score-book and serviced the team’s womenfolk too. In fairness, he did sportingly remove himself from the bowling attack after just two searching overs, which saw Lodge pinned to one end, with Barnes gratefully observing from the other. However, Lodge was enjoying the tussle so much, he invited St John-The-Skipper to resume a few overs later, which he did.

Barnes’ return to the Sloths’ top order was very welcome. Batting with patience and determination, he disdainfully dismissed anything at all short or wide – or, indeed, over-pitched – to the cover boundary, before top-edging to point just short of his 50. Lodge, too, made a purposeful start but failed to convert this into quite so big a score.

Howard then assumed the Freshmeat role, harrying and hustling to maintain the run-rate in characteristic kamikaze style. Luckily, he was partnered by Hewston, who – possibly still smarting from the pasting in his final over of bowling (oops, wasn’t going to mention that…) – is never one to settle for one when three will do. Not only that but he went on to build a commanding innings, full of flare and technical savvy. In stark contrast, then, it was a joy to witness Reynolds (?) and Bond continue in slightly more cavalier but nonetheless effective style.

At one point, with Bond reluctant to emulate the Howard-Hewston sprintathon, it looked as though Sloths might just manage to engineer another defeat. Indeed, Hewes – padded-up and raring to go – had to be physically restrained as he looked-on with hunger and dismay. However, Mr Bond knew he had overs to spare, combined with the sheer bloody-mindedness to send anything wayward to whichever boundary came to view. And Sloths – finally – prevailed.

Now that Sloths have tasted victory (, a delicious egg & cress sarny, some crisps, a flapjack and a chocolate brownie), will they be able to now build a winning streak? Will Johnny-fresher-than persuade his better half that his softball should be augmented by a harder one? Could St John-the-Skipper by another Sloth in waiting? And where the hell are my glasses…?

These and other questions are sure to be ignored as the season progresses. Roll-on Hampset! Press-on Guiness. Under-arm-spray Ram. Er… sorry; it’s been a long weekend.

Mary Berry, Food Correspondent, Slothful Times

Editorial note: Lodge bowled two overs, took four wickets and went for one run.