Scurra, stupified by Hussain, bored by Willis, 1

For the benefit of those readers (a Mrs Trellis of North Madagascar) who do not reside in these isles, I am sorry to report that today is the last day of summer. We mark this occasion by declaring an end to the cricket season. From the moment the copy of Wisden arrives on the doormat in April to the dark evenings of September, England is showered in sunshine, the populace adopt a cheerful disposition, flowers bloom, birds sing and hedgehogs copulate noisily beneath my bedroom window.

We spend our days drinking in the soothing tones of Messrs Benaud and Holding, and following the progress of Messrs Hick and Crawley to their inevitable centuries via cricinfo.com, or by teletext for the paupers.

My friends at Sky Sports chose to prepare us for the winter nights to come by having Willis and Hussain commentating on this afternoon’s game. Never in the annals of human history has someone been so unsuited to his chosen profession as Mr Willis and commentating, at least since Frankie Howerd retired from boxing. The drone of his voice causes the flowers to shrivel, the birds to migrate and all mammals to hibernate. I spent some time this afternoon having my soul sucked out by his excruciatingly dull voice, interspersed by the ruminations of Nasser Hussain, whose inability to say anything interesting in no way inhibits his practice of talking. Next summer will indeed be dull when we have to listen to these people instead of our friends on Channel 4.

Anyone following cricket in England during the 1990s will have despaired as sides led by Gooch, Atherton, Stewart and Hussain produced some of the dullest, negative, dreary and soul destroying rubbish ever witnessed on a sports field. Now these ambassadors of crap are deemed fit to be knowledgeable commentators on the current generation of entertaining and joyful players. It is high time that these purveyors of the tedious were found a home somewhere, where they could no longer feed on the élan of the rest of humanity.