Arts
NARRATOR: ‘A Sporting Tradition’ by Chiswick Residents competition winner Nigel Macarthur. MALE VOICE (in a comic fashion): Our spying is top secret, We will not give our names. Inside the boundary, cricket. Outside are other games. We’re here to pass a message, When we receive our cue. The scores, appeals and all the rest, Conceal a thing or two. The match, we’re told, is choreographed, Down to the ice creams bought. We buy our raspberry ripples, When the score is two for nought. Our rivals, though, have followed. They’re very different men. One’s thickset, scruffy, tie askew. He does rough stuff, as-and-when. The other, Trevor Howard-like, Will get the ladies chatting, And try to find our movements, While the openers are batting. The pitch grows unpredictable, Thanks to the recent rain. Those pre-planned cues and signals, Begin to feel the strain. The bowler tries to slow the ball, But it swings off the seam. The bails are dancing through the air, Like an aerobatic team. We’re forced to signal much too soon. My hands begin to shake. The cigar falls in my ice cream, Like a leaf-wrapped chocolate flake. And that one was my only one! It’s far too damp to […]