Exporting spin

The cafe. Greg and the waitress - she's Kate by the way now that she has been sacked for going on holiday without asking and no longer has to make the young kid's tea latte - arrive together all arms linked and clearly in love again.

The veteran speaks: "Their own fault. Picked the wrong squad, no third opener, lucky Watson made half a job of it, picked the wrong side, with no spinner. Looked a decent bowler to me. We'll have him - my county - if the Aussies don't want him. They are just a rotten side. We won without Kevin Pietersen and with half of Freddie. Or maybe two thirds. Now lets see if they panic."

I say: "They might get rid of Ponting if the selectors won't take the blame. At least the best No.3 in the world; not much of a captain. Last Aussie captain to bring the Ashes here and leave them behind - twice! - plays with no helmet, not gloves, no chest protector and no arm guard. Brave or do I mean stupid. Mind you nobody did in those days."

Kate says (leaning heavily up against Greg and looking into his eyes): "I hope you never play without protection!" Full of double meaning. He looks embarrassed. Now she has got her nails into him he is going to have to learn more British ways of thinking.

She winks at me and says: "So you reckon Ponting will have to go. What will the poor bugger do for the rest of his life?"

The young kid has persuaded someone else to make his tea latte. It looks even more revolting. He says: "He's all right is Ponting. I get about 20 in the warm-up game and he says 'Well done, mate. I don't suppose you're an Aussie who bowls a bit of spin and bats like No.7?' and his voice goes up the funny ways Aussies have."

The veteran goes: "You must be an Aussie. It explains a lot."

The kid says: "My gran spends about six months in Aussie when she gets married to one of them. He shears sheep or something. She gets bored and comes home but it is really useful experience for her. At Christmas when we play games I always get her on my side because she always knows how long is Sydney Bridge or how to spell Wagga Wagga."

I say: "I expect that means you're qualified to play for Oz."

The kid goes on: "I tell him and he gives me his email and tells me to let him know the next time I'm in Sydney. In fact I've got a winter contract with Manley and they say he lives not far away and so I mail him and he says to pop in."

"My God," says the veteran. "I have heard some strange stuff in my life but now we are exporting promising young cricketers to Oz. Just shows the state of the world. Did he ask if you know any bright young fast bowlers?"

"No," says Ponting's new best mate. "I say that Nig-Nog at the county is a good fast bowler and he says he reckons the present bunch will be top of the world in 2011 or the next time they come back and there is no need. I reckon they miss out but I will take my chance Down Under."

Greg and Kate have disappeared. The vet and I pay for all the drinks and get up to go.

The lady behind the counter says: "That lad is seeing my new girl, you know, in place of Kate. He's not going to play for England, is he?"

"No," we say together, "he knows nothing about the game."