Oh cricket! Praise be! Sport of the summer! Of lounging! Of booze! Drafted in from twelfth man, I was on the pitch for the second innings of the day when Vin sauntered up for a bat. He'd been swigging rose from the bottle, as he waited to weave the willow. As a joke, as the hour was drawing on apace, Skinner and I announced that we would like to offer Vinny the option of taking the light.
"Is it getting," we asked, "a little dark to continue safely?"
"Fuck off, I'm batting," said Vin.
Two balls later, Vin clips an edge into his own top lip.
"That's going to need stitching," said Dr Jim.
"Well, we did offer him the light," said Skinner.