Fellow disappointees,
Everyone knows that MJ Clarke is a dreadful fidgeter at the crease, but some close up camera work from the Trent Bridge test match shows him up to have an even worse obsession with preening himself in the field as he gets older.
Spends his whole time in the slips, when the ball isn't in play, constantly rearraging himself; the hat, the sunnies, the shirt collar, the buttons and sleeves are endlessly adjusted as if you say "now, do, I look a million dollars, or what?"
Scratching his upper lip where his moustache would be if he had one when he's thinking hard about the state of the game is an interesting new affectation.
Hardly anything to fault in his captaincy, apart from a self-admitted dumb use of the dreaded DRS, especially trying to save his own bacon from being given out caught behind in the second innings.
Surely any batsman would know if he's tickled it through to the keeper; just ask that miserable turd Broad, he'll tell you.
In contrast, Pup's contribution with the bat was poor, by any estimation.
A finely-crafted six-ball duck before being bowled neck and crop in the first innings, and then failed to go on after a slow 23 in the second, just at the moment when a Captain's knock was required
For mine, his chronic dose of Shagger's Back restricts his footwork, so quite a lot of the time he finds himself neither back nor forward to the ball, and that's when yr asking for trouble.
Having judiciously sacked himself as a selector, Pup would've have no say in the inspired selection of the Agar Kiddie, who turned out to be a top bet for all the most unexpected reasons.
A Boof masterstroke, no doubt about it.
But surely 19 is far too young to be nominated as this week's National Hero for falling two runs short of a ton on debut at No.11.
Don't get me wrong, a top knock, without doubt - the kid can bat - and no-one has done it before in the history of the caper, but in the match situation consider it in the cold light of day.
The Childe Ashton made 112 for the match, and got carted for 2/106.
He was a busy man, to be sure, but it wasn't enough to win the match, and he has a lot to learn of course, especially when he's got a Pakistani reffo with the same act as him who they passed a special Act of Parliament for, to give him a saloon passage through to Citizenship to fast track him onto the tour, breathing down his neck.
A 1-0 lead in the five test series is absolutely priceless, especially as the Evil Englanders don't even have to win the series to retain the Ridiculous Little Urn.
No surprise that it emerged mid-week that JM Arthur reckons MJ Clarke called SR Watson "a cancer on the team".
Choice, well-chosen words, those.
At long last, FIGJAM has been found out for what he really is.
Clarkey might as well have added "you know the sort, the kind of slow-growing cancer that creeps up behind you when you are not looking, and then stabs you in the back without warning.".
After the utter utter nonsense that went on in India, Watson should've been sacked, punted, and drop-kicked out the back door without so much as a sausage.
Can't be the only one who lives for the day when the rank no-talent show pony is banished to the back paddock, never to be seen nor heard of again.
Never mind the hype surrounding Agar's heroics, and the gushing pumping up of the "brave effort" to bring the match to a cliffhanger, you have to wonder if the Strayans actually realise that they have been beaten by the Poms, that's right, beaten by the Poms.
Nothing worse in all of world sport.
Well...at least we can be consoled by the fact that Straya was, in the end, robbed blind by blind Bamford's and cheatin' Poms.
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