Here’s to unemployment!

Ryan Hairybottom. Matthew Hoggard. Andrew Symonds. And now me.

We greats. Us, the noble four. We share a single unifying victorious wondrous characteristic: unemployment.

Cricket Australia has recently revealed that being a jobless bum is now the best profession in the world.

We outcasts know that we’re best placed. We have no “responsibilities” or “futures”. We lone wolves are independent. We don’t need friends. We have self-pity for companions.

I’ve been taking hints from my dole mate, Ryan – known to your disreputes as “God”. He tells me the best way he real with rejection is to find a quiet bridge, hide underneath it, and cry until you pass out.

It’s worked wonders for me.

I don’t have a job. But at least I don’t play for Nottinghamshire. The seat of evil. So I think I have one-up on him there.

Anyway, Siders also advices hanging around fish and chip shops. Apparently their bins are like gold mines.

But the coming credit crunch has showed that many fine, talented, occasionally gorgeous people, have been thrown out to the seagulls.

These rejects need to be looked after somewhere. Usually, the English county circuit is the perfect home for expended refuse, but I feel the need for a new institution. Somewhere to home the nearly man, somewhere to sooth their disturbed pride, somewhere where they can feel like cricketers again.

Personally, I think Southend Pier is the best place for them. It can be a little concentration camp for castoffs.