The Barmy Army. It Was Funny The First Time.

I have spent most of this summer not watching the Ashes but reading it via internet updates either at work or on my girlfriend’s mobile. And therefore most of the words that I have published about it have mainly been based on what someone else has already written. To remind myself I’ve just paused the Sky Plus on the highlights at the moment Jonathon Trott took his catch. Yes, I was definitely there. A few blurry pixels in the distance. Somehow added to the massed ranks of the Barmy Army, who seemed to change session by session:

Morning:

Mostly middle-aged women. Who don’t know each other or like each other, preferring the company of the tiny radio plugged into their ear. Polo shirt is standard issue, mainly in red with a crazy nickname emblazoned across the shoulders. Names like ‘Badger’, ‘Gumbo’ and my personal favourite, ‘Ian’. Generally subdued. Which was a relief.

Afternoon:

Amazing. Obviously. Everything was amazing. Although I had the spectator equivalent of beer goggles on. And Broad goggles actually. All chants absolutely hilarious and the trumpet in no way invasive. Leader makes first appearance. Looks like a 100-year old Johnny Borrell.

Evening:

Chants getting tiresome. Can all be filed under ‘it was funny the first time’. Which is a sentence than can be used for the Barmy Army in its entirety. Middle-aged women have disappeared to be replaced by swearier recruits who seem to be completely detached from the action on the pitch. Not looking as England lose three quick wickets. Watching a man do a jig with a cuddly Flat Eric instead. All fielders from both sides appear to have been trained in a special backwards wave to appease the Army. Apart from Peter Siddle who turned around faced the crowd with a double wave and a grin as they sang something obscene about him and a horse’s penis.

Peter Siddle is awesome. I hope he and England both win the Ashes this weekend.