One again it looked like the Comics would have ten, as Coops woke on Saturday to the news that an overweight, red-headed, northern psycho had taken his own life after it had spiralled out of control following getting his heart broken (hi Alan), but as it turned out it was Raoul Moat, not Tofty (Tofty could never hide for a week with that gut sticking out of the undergrowth), and instead of death we had life, with the resurrection of Duncan Fudge after his tragic falling versus Wandsworth two seasons ago. So 11 men took to the field with high hopes of upsetting John Fisher at an initially unappealing Croydon Postal Services ground that turned out to be a great place to play.

Coops lost the toss and John Fisher chose to bat. The pitch looked poor but played very well and the outfield was like glass, so to keep them to 229 was a pretty decent effort. Roan was the pick of the bowlers, while Will and Archie bowled well with little luck. The fielding was generally not too bad, although Tofty and Archie put themselves well into the bone zone with some spectacular drops. Archie somehow put himself within close range of four tough ones to become the first man to suffer the ignominy of "bone selecta", possibly due to visibility issues after spending an hour in darkness in the back of the van on the way there, with just McBain's McRemains for company. Meanwhile Tofty's final over drop not only condemned him to the bone but also damaged his trigger finger. It was a tough day for our hero, as his damaged digit forced him to bat at 11, while for the second time this month he was treated with scorn by big West Indians while holding his balls (hi again Alan).

230 to win should not have been that tough, especially once Coops and Phil continued last week's form by swiftly putting on 72 for the first wicket. But the rot began as Phil holed out unnecessarily at long on, before a running mix-up between Coops and Macca led to the latter's dismissal. Perhaps this was due to the difference in speeds, with Coops' sub-23 minute Chase Challenge time not matched by the slow plodding of his partner, his speed blunted by lunchtime waddles with the Llama. Coops then missed a straight one, Roan holed out tamely, as did Healy, and the game was up. Fudge and Mohit chipped in with a few but ultimately we fell around 40 short, a very disappointing effort with some dreadful shots against mostly very ordinary bowling. An opportunity lost.

Archie and Tofty were left with the unpleasant task of drinking the bone, a task made more unpleasant than usual by the fact that the tea included a giant bucket of wings, which were left to stew in the sun during the second innings. Archie had to drink nine bones compared to Tofty's one, and it's no guarantee that either man will live to see next Saturday, due to salmonella poisoning and self-inflicted gunshot wounds, respectively. Meanwhile, the Comics enjoyed the 3rd/4th place play off, with Roan the Clapham Grand Octopus successfully predicting a German win, while Phil Uragay. Indeed, the squeaky eagle seemed uninterested in the football, preferring instead to whisper sweet nothings to the local tramp who had wandered in.

Following last week's missed opportunity, a win was vital against struggling Battersea Ironside, but the omens were not good midweek, with many key players missing. A Gumtree ad was posted with one player needed, and among the replies was this:

hello not on pc all day. friendly chris experienced slip fielder ONLY, LEFT HAND middle order bat, right arm seamer can get to shep bush PLEASE TEXT CHRIS 07722441551 CHEERS

The temptation to bring in Shenners was great, after his unforgettable debut, but Matt got the Gumtree call instead, swelling the kiwi count to three (almost enough for another misguided coup). Late drama ensued on Friday night though, as Macca threatened to pull out through injury. Time has not been kind to our man, as his balding pate, colourblindness and lack of pace was added to by a bad back, caused by carrying too many bags of clothes from the charity shop, but he bravely battled the pain to leave Shenners confined to his cell.

Not much to say about the game really. Coops lost the toss, allowing the Comics to bowl on a spongy pitch under cloud cover. Battersea are not great, and would have struggled badly but for some woeful and lethargic ground fielding, as too many easy runs came from misfields. Coops took three wickets with his outswingers, while new boy Matt took two. Archie dropped one again and Brett's nightmare in the field was topped off by a rare drop to drink the bone. Mohit and Coops took sharp catches, but apart from that it was poor, and we were lucky to be only chasing 179 on a small ground with fast outfield. Macca hid at slip all game and touched the ball once, while John, a natural in the Shenners role, talked a good game at gully despite being unable to catch anything (except probably AIDS the night before with his childhood sweetheart).

Coops and Phil and like the Greenidge and Haynes of the Ram Surrey League, and brought up their fourth stand of 70+ in six attempts. It was an untroubled run to 94 before Phil slashed a long-hop to gully. The dismissal made the normally placid man very angry, and he proceeded to smash his helmet against a back door in the mens changing room (not for the first time I'd wager). Brett fell two balls later for 0 and when Macca, having had a lucky escape a ball earlier when one chap tried to catch a sitter in his left nostril, played the same shot as Phil to also make a globe, the collective nerves were jangling. When Coops fell for 82 to a ridiculous caught and bowled with 56 still needed it wasn't looking too clever, but Mohit and Matt struck a few lusty blows to ease the nerves. Neither saw the job through to the end, but luckily we had the calm head of John. Healy had described him as worse than Shenners, but he batted solidly without flair, surviving only on forward defensive and leave while letting the wides rack up. Basically he was like a thinner, human-coloured Healy, but slightly better in the field, and certainly a better player than Fudge, and he smashed the winning runs with a few overs to spare.

A quick chat with Miguel from Battersea confirmed that McBain was alive, which we did not know, and that no one in the Sunday team liked him, which we could have guessed. And then it was off to Berrylands for pizza, Brett's bone and plenty of jugs (calm down Tofty, you LEGEND). I did have a very funny line to put in about Tofty for Alan, but he has banned me from using it, and threatened to put me top of his list if I did. I'm taking the threat seriously, judging by the hissy fit he had when taken off, and the swelling rage from being called Raoul even by members of the opposition.

Bit of a disappointing one this. Ultimately a comfortable defeat but for the second week running some lacklustre fielding and clueless batting turned a very strong position into a hefty loss. Coops won the toss and inserted Sheen Park on what looked like a run-laden pitch and barren outfield, but Archie bowled a great opening spell, removing both openers, including their child prodigy. He also appeared to account for superstar Jayman second ball but it seemed LBW is the only law Roy Goldsmith doesn't know about (although to be fair he was consistent, allowing Rob to escape getting a duck and get a duck anyway). Macca kept things tight while Tofty struck twice, before Coops claimed Facebook bragging rights by removing his good friend Jay second ball with a booming outswinger. Jay actually walked, as did Roan later on, before a hold-up in play while the ground was buzzed by a squadron of flying pigs. From here the wheels came off slightly as catches were put down, tempers frayed (with Coops and Macca having their annual swearathon), easy runs were given up and Sheen Park reached 225. Dunster in particular was very downbeat in the field, perhaps pondering what new identity he would be given by the Ministry of Justice, and wondering how he's going to groom innocent glamour models with internet access for the next five years. He looked concussed, while Mohit actually was concussed, sporting a plaster over a head wound gained during the week when he came across the husband/father of the mother/daughter combination.

This seemed unlikely to be enough, we pondered at tea, while Jay revealed he had been perving over Coops' daughter on Facebook (that's fine Jay but don't go sending her any of those Ashley Cole-style pics off your profile), and when Coops and Phil racked up 21 off the first two overs it was looking very easy. However, it became harder to get the ball away, and Sheen Park's two dibbly dobbly openers kept it tight. Phil got a good one, then Healy, Rob and Brett succumbed meekly and the Comics were in all sorts of trouble. Kesha bowled his usual superb spell, Coops made 43 but holed out, and while everyone else chipped in no one could make a meaningful score. Tofty struck a few lusty blows at the death but in the end we were nowhere near. Roan's 24 took the Dunster deficit to a nice round £200, while Ratboy was almost timed out, as it took him the best part of three minutes to get out of his deckchair to bat.

And so it was off to the posh pub for plenty of booze but no bones, as there was only quail's eggs and caviar on the menu. This got many out of drinking the bone, namely Tofty, Ratboy and Healy (for his now weekly evasion on the boundary), plus Macca, though he was already on his way back to snuggle under Poppy's thumb. Women wearing the trousers was a theme of the night, as the Comics and the Sheen Parkers were castigated for their foul language by a lady sitting nearby while her husband sat their silently. She did have a point, and the language was curbed (ie, we sat there in silence) until the fcking fat cnut took her enormous arse out of the place shortly afterwards. Tofty lost his car keys, but luckily they were found later on in Coops' pocket. On a serious note, can I please ask that whoever put them there, please consider Tofty's fragile emotional state. No one knows what will send him over the edge, but we should avoid things that might (Hi Alan). If you must play practical jokes, please play them on Phil instead.

With the 4.3 miles back fortuitously navigated, Coops got home to the sad news of the death of Alex Higgins. This leaves a hole for a new entertainer, but step forward Roan 'The Hurricane' Haarhoff, who runs into bowl like a 61-year-old alcoholic with cancer, and is so called because he storms through the Clapham Grand ripping away women's clothes, before potting a succession of pinks and browns.

Pretty ropey performance this one, gifting Thorntonians A their first win of the season. We were probably 20 runs short with the bat, although it wasn't a terrible showing, with Phil and Rob just missing out on 50s and Malcolm smashing a few on debut. However, against generally weak bowling too many bad balls went unpunished, and at Berrylands if you bowl and field badly you will not be able to defend that sort of score. We didn't bowl that badly, but there were a few big overs, and the fielding once again was dreadful. Routine misfields early on to take the pressure off the Thorns' openers, and five or six routine catches dropped, including a couple of crucial ones, which allowed fairly average players to make big chunks of the total.

So there were many reasons for defeat, though the sharp cricket-brained Macca (9-0-63-1 against two limited players) concluded that it was all the fault of the top-scoring Rob, who scored more quickly than at least two others. Archie, on being asked his view, just smiled. But in reality you can't afford to drop catches, particularly skiers where you don't have to move. Phil's drop was costly (though what can you expect when the left hand is a claw and right arm was only recently transplanted from Popeye), as was Tofty's (one of two). Both were subject to rather dreadful sportsmanship from the oppo, as the batsmen shouted out as the catches were being taken, but our men should be used to this. Phil is familiar with the shouts of men as he grinds on the pole at the Eagle, while only the other week Tofty had lots of policemen with megaphones barking instructions to him, before turning the gun on himself. Hi Alan.

The WAGs were out in force. Brett brought his sister, who perked Tofty's interest in a way that only certain types of girls cans, while Mohit brought his Spanish senorita, and proceeded to run himself out for not many, cut his hand fielding, collapse in a heap after being hit in the field, and miss the stumps while attempting a run out and hitting Archie on his well-muscled, steroid-enhanced arse instead. Phil chose not to bring his old tramp from John Fisher.

This game was played with heavy hearts, following the tragic news midweek of the murder of the landlady of the Queen Anne, popular with footballers, rappers and soap stars. The Comics affected wore black armbands and observed a minute's silence, and a collection was made by passing round the Hamlet tin for pound coins, in order to give her a proper send off in a bamboo coffin, carried by sturdy pall-bearers Ambrose, Walsh and the Gunt. Post cremation, Straussy must sweep up the ashes, without smirking, the RETARD. And if you think this is bad taste, go visit the place!

A very disappointing loss, as not for the first time this season the Comics threw away a position of dominance with some dreadful batting. The day had started well as Coops won the toss and inserted Wimbledon in overcast conditions and with rain likely. Will and Archie kept it tight early and wickets fell regularly, helped by some great ball-cupping from Phil and three comedy runouts as the away team tried to re-enact Klusener and Donald. Roan took four wickets, inspired by the Dog Bonery t-shirt he was forced to wear after missing a sitter at slip. The fielding was generally back to early season form, though there were a few mishaps, and a fair bit of industrial language. This would culminate in an appalling explosion from Healy, following another misfield and amble. Taking offence at Rob's mild rebuke from 60 yards away, the modern-day Oscar Wilde unleashed a lengthy tirade which started well (Milky Bar Kid is going to stick) but degenerated into something you'd hear on Big Brother. Highlights included the c word, penis, and "no one likes you", which could be upsetting were it not for the fact that it's clear none of us actually like any of each other. But all very poor, especially when one of the protagonists is covered in mud and blood from his fielding efforts, while the other moved less than Shenners Jr's 6kg Cheese Man. Clearly more to it than fielding, with perhaps the antagonism resulting from prior arguments about what was more tiresome - Rob's staggering stories of his sexploits or Healy's pretentious travel blog.

Rain had reduced the game to 41 overs, but this shouldn't have been a difficult chase, and at 99-1 the Comics were cruising. You would think Phil would be happy to keep cruising, but he ran himself out after a fine 50, and the wheels came off. Poor shot selection was again the culprit, and the Comics managed to lose four wickets for no runs at one point. The tail went down swinging valiantly but in truth it looked closer than it was. Healy summed it up well, suggesting that batsmen are put under pressure and not filled with confidence. It could be that, or maybe it's the sheer lack of thought week in week out, gifting wickets when no threat exists. I wonder. It didn't help that the returning Josh had to miss out due to the sniffles, which the great Aussie outdoorsman was unable to shake off, despite drinking heaps of tea.

And then it was barbeque time, with guest of honour Dave 'Sausages' Goldsmith leading the march to the food. Shenners Jr did a fine job as Chef, leaving most people salivating over the food and Tofty salivating over his comedy breasts apron (hi Alan). The enormous bone was drunk many times by both sides, and the hot sauce caused chaos, particularly for Tushar from the oppo, who looked like something out of a cartoon running round with steam coming out of his ears after having one drop of it. We learned the reason why Roan is so sluggish every Saturday and going rapidly grey, in that his girlfriend "is a nymphomaniac". It speaks volumes for 'The Weapon' that he is able to satisfy her insatiable desires and still summon up the energy to throw strings over half the Clapham Grand (hi Beth). A mayonnaise incident left Phil covered in creamy white liquid, Archie put on a gun show and Macca used his cock as a wristwatch, for no apparent reason. The only thing missing was a proper drinking game. Maybe one where you have to think of cricketers beginning with letters of the alphabet, like the game Archie played with the other contestants in the Mr Gay Grinner UK 2010 competition.

The Comics were saved by the rain on a showery day at Berrylands, though in truth an uninterrupted 90 overs would likely have meant a comfortable victory, so perhaps a fair result in the end. Osterley won the toss and inserted, as you do when bad weather threatens, but Coops and Phil reached 37-0 before the first of many showers took the teams from the field. On resumption, the prolific duo put their foot down amid some murky weather and reached 81 before Phil was bowled. Coops reached 50 (or 48 if Mohit is scoring badly) before chopping on, and immediately the rains came, with the Comics nicely poised at 91-2 in the 21st over. This time the rains were heavy, and by the time the square had dried the game had been reduced to 30 overs, leaving the Comics in a very unfair situation. An immediate slog was on, which was not ideal for the returning, rusty Josh or the foul-mouthed stodger Healy. Both fell trying to push on, and then a succession of batsmen perished trying to reach the boundary to give the home side a decent target to defend. Archie tried the novel approach of calling Roan for runs in hindi, which is unlikely to succeed when the big thicko struggles to understand English and is only really fluent in the language of love. With wickets tumbling and only a couple of overs remaining it was down to great team man Samir to take charge, by walking singles and playing forward defensives, leaving Mohit fuming at the non-striker's end. Samir was only playing due to Tofty being injured. It was a shock to all to hear that Tofty had pulled out after getting sore, especially as he's not yet been to Club de Fromage (hi Alan).

The Comics would finish on 138, which was never likely to be enough, but then the heavens opened for a final time and ended the game. It was hard on Osterley but there was not much anyone could do about it. The Comics got on the beers and Papa Johns, and reflected on Samir's efforts, and whether he had surpassed his efforts of the last time he played. Coops had picked him up at his house (only having to wait 10 minutes), and lent him a pair of socks as the Kebab King had only arrived on this wet day with flip-flops and bare feet. The legend then disappeared for an hour during a rain break with his 'friend' (the sort of friend that Phil might have) to get something to eat, before trying to shoehorn himself up the batting order and then unleashing the batting frenzy already covered above. All that was left was for him to pay the £30 he owed Coops from last time, plus a tenner for this week. Amazingly he seemingly did, and it was captured for posterity on Phil's iphone (sadly the picture quality was not good enough to use, as one would expect when the photographer has one Beadle's claw and one Popeye arm). Of course, when Coops counted there was only £20, but hey at least he got his socks back.

21/08/10 - Abahani 230-8, Economicals 195

Macca's final match was a weekend festival of entertainment, with the comedy provided by the Comics' fielding. Abahani's batting is not amazing, and if we'd taken our chances we'd have surely won, but we basically threw away the match with some dreadful catching. It would be quicker to list those who did not drop sitters, though Mohit deserves special mention for his three drops, including the easiest catch ever, which even his nemesis Samir would have caught. Phil made amends for his drop with two run-outs from the Dunster position, Toftarov the grandmaster took his tally past 20 with a couple of checkmates and Josh bamboozled the batters with his legspin, but 230 was at least 50 more than we should've been chasing and always likely to be too many against the international-class attack. We gave it a good go, with Josh smashing some huge sixes and Roan playing another classy knock, but ultimately fell short. If only the fielding had been average the result could've been very different.

And then it was onto the real business. The 70-yard dash to determine the Comics' slowest man was controversial, with Macca's blatant false start and the issue of the eligibility of the hobbling Hurricane, who could barely walk at this point, and thus allowed the Llama to escape his inevitable fate. Then ten intrepid men heading into town in their whites for a classy combination of the Griffin, Gandhis, the Griffin again and Club de Fromage. For classy, read glassy, as Will decided to threaten to glass the three hardest men in London, but luckily Coops was able to converse with the neanderthals to calm the situation, fluent as he is in the language of white trash. The Griffin was the standard quality affair, with Tofty and Phil getting the double grind and Svetlana offering to pay Roan for the chance to dance for him. The landing strips on show were clearly too hirsute for Baby Strauss, who prefers a minimal covering of grass on his wicket, and so proceeded to work his magic on three children. Basically, Straussy is a nonce as well as a retard. He shamefully stole Coops' camera the following day and deleted the evidence, but Archie saw it all, and could be seen with a cold, calculating smile on his face, preparing to tell Vicky about this over the lunchtime grin. Meanwhile the Weapon appeared to be firing blanks, while Tristan showed the boys how it's done ('it' being a big unit admittedly). Coops thinks that's what happened, but he forgot a lot of things that night. Tofty and Phil did nothing, naturally. Tofty grinned a lot, almost imitating Achar Gosht, while Phil's claw proved useful as a drinks holder, but that pair are hopeless, and it wouldn't surprise me if the Griffin gals put on a couple of layers behind the bamboo rather than stripping off (hi Alan).

Sunday's game was a return to winning ways against the Sultans of Swing, despite the team being mashed up in a bad way through hangovers and Jalfrezi burns, including Macca actually pooing himself in the morning. The great man's final weekend in London, and indeed his eight years playing for the Comics, could be summed up in one pair of underpants. Ah but we will miss him. A bit. Actually, Macca sod off mate...and this time do actually go.

Another defeat, but with only five regulars, and a very makeshift team as always happens on bank holiday weekends, to run the probable runners-up so close was a terrific performance, and once again some better fielding would have probably led to a different result. Coops won the toss and had no hesitation in inserting Old Thorntonians on possible the worst pitch ever seen. Soaking wet, uneven and patchy, if you had put a bra and pants at either end instead of stumps it could've got a job at the Queen Anne. That Thorntonians made over five an over was more to do with our lack of pace with the ball, but having said that the bowlers did a great job. Roan and Archie kept it tight early on, Oats once again showed his experience by picking up a bagful of wickets on a rare appearance, and new boys Arun and Sumeet did well barring a big over each. This was no small feat, as both shaped up early on to be Gumtree specials, with neither being too good in the field, Sumeet taking 40 minutes to get the half-mile from Raynes Park Station to the ground, and Arun taking a similar time to get from Shep Bush station to my house, where on arrival he timidly entered saying "Do you have animals? I'm scared of pets".  Josh's grenades got smashed everywhere as he had trouble gripping the wet ball, probably due to his hands being covered in piss again. No, it was again the fielding that cost us badly. A few misfields gave away cheap runs, and there were some costly drops too, with Shenners Jr the main culprit (though he's still a better fielder than Healy, who no one likes). Squeagle once again covered a lot of ground effectively, while Archie took three catches, including a stunning one-handed effort to remove Sajjad.

The pitch and outfield were a bit drier by the time we came to bat, but Thorntonians' bowling packs a bit more punch too, and Coops' round three versus Hashmat was rather one-sided. Dropped twice, the skipper gave the burly paceman the charge only to find his middle stump cartwheeling out of the ground. In my defence, having given Sajjad £10,000 pre-match, I was reliably informed this was going to be a no ball, though it later transpired that I had misheard "When you face Hashmat, you look like you have no balls". Josh struggled for fluency and survived a couple of chances, while Roan again impressed with the bat before once again tiring, his body slowly breaking down under the weight of his big brain. The big man has had a fine season with bat, ball and pork sword, and made a classy £39 out of Rob's wallet before Hashmat smeared his stumps in the run chase later on.

But while all this was going on, Squeaky Phil ploughed away at the other end. Starting very slowly (even for him), the big mincer gradually got used to the pitch and eventually started to open his coathanger-width shoulders, culminating in giving Hashmat the treatment by smashing him over long-on for six, finally using the popeye after so much claw.  However, the gods had not been kind to the Comics, and a break for rain meant a harder chase, and 45 were required from five overs when Roan fell, soon to be followed by Phil for a terrific 82, which would have been a ton in normal conditions I'm sure. With Archie batting six on merit, the chase was never likely to succeed, but the Comics battled hard and ended up only 12 short - a fine effort.

All that was left was for Josh to sneak off early to meet a girl from Fromage the previous week. Readers, you will be surprised to hear that the snaggle-toothed, pasty-faced, weak-bladdered manchild did not seduce his prey too well. Clearly he needs to take tips from Straussy (offer to help with their 11+ preparation), Squeagle (go after old homeless men) or Tofty (soon off to Thailand to stir Derrick Bird's gravy - hi Alan, and yes that's right...even when he's not playing). Only one more game to go... 

The Comics ended 2010 in defeat, and a fairly unremarkable game it was. Coops won the toss and chose to bat but a horror start ensued with Phil bowled for a duck and Josh playing a truly awful shot to leave the Comics at 3-2. Coops and Healy recovered things slightly, but soon the Comics would be 44-6, the highlight being Rob's innings. Dropping himself down the order so that his girlfriend could watch him bat, he dawdled out to the crease to allow her to arrive, only to get bowled first ball, just before she turned up. Rob you owe Roan £232.  Malcolm joined Healy and put on 80 for the seventh wicket against the sort of bowling that would might appear in the News of the World, as Wandsworth seemingly looked for a few runs to chase. The Comics ended on 141 with Healy top-scoring with a classy 64.

Archie got the Comics off to a flyer with a wicket first ball, but while he bowled a brilliant, fiery spell, runs flowed at the other end, as first Arun and then 'all-rounder' Josh disappeared all round the ground. Archie provided the comedy moment of the season by having their star player caught at cover after top-edging onto his helmet-lacking forehead, before needing to be persuaded to leave the crease, dazed and bloody. Archie would end up with three to take his tally to 21, equalling Tofty at the top of the bowling stats, though Tofty wins the award on account of more victims (hi Alan). There were other contenders for comedy moment, including a Fudge 'Marble Arch' dive, Rob showing off in front of his girlfriend with a pointless boundary slide only to fumble it for four and Sumit letting a caught and bowled chance just drop to the floor rather than going for it. Fudge made his bowling debut, which lasted one ball, smashed miles for six. Meanwhile, Josh provided another highpoint, earning himself the new nickname 'dumro' (ie, dumber than Roan), with this conversation with the oppo bowler

Josh (looking at four praying muslims): "What are they doing?"
Oppo player: "Praying"
Josh: "Who to?"
Oppo: "God"

And so that was that for 2010. Survival, but a season that rather tailed off, with many winnable games thrown away. And we leave the final word to Healy, who said "please can you remove from the Comics website that photo of me with the hanging Italian girl?" No.