The ECB sinks to new low

Last week the ECB sunk to new depths in my esteem with two pieces of news.

Firstly, they banned that iconic link to the past: the cable-knit jumper. Of course, the ECB is not unafraid of shedding its heritage; cricket has lost what little remains of its uniqueness in a market saturated with the finest American plastics and wheezes of twelve year-olds in suits.

Replacing time-worn, proven elements of the game with the ephemeral fads of blind modernisation is all part of the new feckless strategy of a pro-active, globalised, empowered, service-oriented, ahead of the curve, excellence-focused English administration.

This may, or may not, be something to do with the new chairman: Giles Clarke, who is, by all accounts, a total bastard. Apparently, he can speak about twenty languages, is an enormously successful businessman and is obsessed with cricket statistics. So we can safely assume he knows nothing about cricket.

Look at England’s replacement kit. What really irritates me about this is the whiteness of the whites. Whites are cream; even demented, colour blind mole people know that. Clarke the twat, however, does not. Now our team look like a bunch of unemployable youths, loitering outside the local off licence debating whether they should re-attempt a cider-shoplifting expedition or try to score some scag from their mum.

The ultimate denunciation of this chav-wear came from Kevin Pietersen:

“It feels sensational.”

Secondly, Clarke’s depravity knows no end with his official announcement that the England cricket, after over a hundred years of honourable if modest achievement, is now for sale.

The ECB is currently in talks with “Sir” Allen Stanford over the possibility of England playing a collection of hired goons for a prize $200 million.

Apparently, the justification of this scandelous misuse of a noble instution is to compensate the impoverished players from their unrealised IPL earnings.

I have accepted long ago that the ECB is no longer interested in cricket, but this greedy nadir is simply too much for me to endure. I might just burn down Lords, with all their chequebooks, media contact indices and hip, unstuffy outfits left inside.

Why is usesless Boris Johnson messing around over the London mayoral position – we need a inactive, hopeless head of the ECB and we need one now.