Right. Now then.

It is time to whine. But this time, I can hold my head up high and whine with pride.

England, the place of my birth and the bosom of my life, has produced a useless cricket team. A team of staggering incompetence that is capable of losing to literally any girl scouts group in the world.

Michael Vaughan said that there were some “confidence” issues, whereas I think there are “competence” issues here. Firstly, we bowled badly: 470 runs are too many. Number eights should not get 88, especially when we had them at 190-5.

Secondly, the batting was spineless. The pitiable collapse on the last day on a mundane pitch had to be seen to be believed.

Useless bunch of melons.

Peter Moores wants to see a bit of passion to see England bounce back and win the series. I hate it when people say things like that.

“I’m passionate about food.” I can’t stand that. Or when people express passion for any subject. I fairness, I don’t like it when people say anything really. Or people at all.

Peter Moores is that people. The annoying ones.

England bowled better in the second innings. Monty Panesar rediscovered his grove. And Ryan Hairybottom, the Atlas of the attack, wallowed in some deserved glory with a five-for and a sensational hat-trick.

I’m not sure whether it’s within the rules, but the entire England squad, with the possible exception of the Hairy One, should be replaced by the women’s team. They’d show the Kiwis a good hiding.

Lastly, New Zealand is an awkwardly placed country. It seems to make filing reports for newspapers impossible. I remember listening to Angus Fraser on TMS rue submitting a piece for the Independent just before lunch on the third day. It suggested that either Paul Collingwood or Tim Ambrose would go on to score a century. Neither made it past the second over after lunch.

I suspect that the Sunday Times suffered from the same time-zone cock up. Their headline was “England show positive signs.” Signs of positive rubbishness.