A Sunday game at Priston is guaranteed to provide drama, incident, controversy and runs. Yesterday was to be no exception. But would it all end in another disappointing draw?

In adherence to recent government directives, Sloths shifted focus away from London-centric elitism. Instead, they opened with the Northern Powerhouse of McCauley and Stumpchat.  The High-speed Sloth Two (HS2) project, however, ran off the rails before it had really got going. So, a new coalition was quickly convened and normality restored.

Painter and Stump took time to assess the moss-laden wicket, boundary-defeating outfield and variable bowling. Once the pair had established themselves, however, runs ensued. Painter stretched and contorted his reconstituted frame to defy medical science, once again turning wides into boundaries. Stump went aerial with his trademark back-foot straight drives. And, in between, they rotated the strike with singles aplenty.

When you look across the pitch from the makeshift pavilion, towards Priston’s enormous cock, there is a certain timelessness to the scene. Which rather adds irony to their home games being timed, rather than limited by overs. It would be uncharitable to suggest the hosts are deliberate in taking an age to set, reset, refine and rescind their field placings. But, blimey, do they take their time.

Both Stump and Painter were firmly entrenched by the drinks break. Thereafter they set about scoring more freely, each passing fifty in short order. Fresh, all the while, was limbering up in the nets and raring to go. When Painter called for a runner, he willingly obliged. And when Jim decided enough was enough, choosing to take early retirement, Fresh was already in situ to take over. This, despite the fact the number 3 batsman was actually Bond.

But no matter. Painter’s departure seemed also to upset Stump’s equilibrium. He gave up his wicket next over, lobbing an easy catch back to the youthful (and painfully serious) bowler. As Stump took the applause for a fine innings, Painter was still reeling from the news he’d retired on 97. He hadn’t. But no-one had the heart to tell him this was just a wind-up.

All in all, Sloths reached a commanding total of 200+ runs. Priston would, no doubt, be more than happy to settle for a draw. So, the focus was to take wickets, over and above defending runs.

Howard set the standard, dropping a certain caught-and-bowled with the first ball. He then took a spectacular dive over what would have been a simple catch – had he stayed put at short mid-wicket – from the bowling of Yerbury. Stump followed suit, dropping edged balls, also from the whiley Yerbury. Madeye managed to be caught napping and out of position, having an ornithological discussion with Fresh at extra cover. How they laughed as a red kite circled above the haplessly oblivious twitcher, clutching binoculars in the clubhouse. How Ric laughed as the ball was hoisted to the precise spot left vacant by Madeye.

But wickets did fall. Yerbury was dastardly as always. Ant found line and length from the start and had the ball moving alarmingly from the pitted strip. McCauley tempered his pace, until no-balled. Resuming his full run-up, he then demolished the wickets. Franks confused the batsmen with his variable speed and flight. ‘Where’s’ Ed held a catch on his second attempt at long off to a mistimed drive from a rank full-toss. Fresh kept the batsmen pinned to the crease with full-pitched deliveries. And so on.

Proceedings had to be halted when Priston’s skipper top-edged an over-pitched ball into his own face. It was quickly apparent that this was serious. The batsman immediately said he couldn’t see anything out of the eye where the ball had struck. This situation did not improve and he was whisked away for hospital attention. We all wish him well and sincerely hope his eyesight can be fully restored.

It naturally took a while for the mood to lift, following this unfortunate interlude. Sloths also found it difficult to keep their collective feet on the jugular when Priston’s youngster took to the crease. He may be older but looks not more than 11. Eventually, the irrepressible Stu could hold back no more and stumped the little tyke. What are the chances?

Then followed Priston’s most senior member, Wilf. And what a game fellow he is. He even stole a crafty single, though struggling to make the 22 yards. Fresh showed no mercy. Wilf had to go.

One Priston batsman did make it past fifty. But he was something of a lone figure. A couple of the openers and the injured skipper also looked capable of making runs. But this was a formidable Sloth bowling attack, determined to avoid a dispiriting draw. And avoid it they did.

Convening in the ‘Ring O’ Bells’ for post-match refreshment, questions – as they so often do – abounded:

• Should we tell Painter he really only got 70-odd runs?
• Can Sloths manage to raise a motley crew for next season’s proposed ‘tour’?
• Do chips and ketchup constitute a Northern Fondue?
• Why do the Priston villagers have such an enormous cock?

Answers, please, via the comments box below…

Bill Oddie, Ornithology Correspondent, Slothful Times