Greetings for sunny climesWhat a load of ballearics!

Greetings to all my fellow Junior Larks! As you can see from the photo, I'm writing this article whilst lying on the beach in sunny Espagna. I decided to wing it down south to spend the winter with my Spanish cousin Pedro the Parakeet. After the traumatic season we've just had at Lymington, I just wanted to get right away from anything to do with the cricket club. Trouble is, as soon as I touched down I couldn't help but notice that there were bloody Tapas everywhere!

I decided to leave Mrs the Lark at home as she rather cramps my style when I'm trying to impress the birds on the beach. Mind you, it's apparently the fashion nowadays for sportsmen to take their wives to away games with them - look at the 'glamorous' WAGs that follow the England footballers. At Lymington, we don't have WAGs. No, it's more a case of DOGs (divorcees or girlfriends) or FADs (fiances and dollybirds) or even WOOFs (wives of old fogies). Why do I think I may regret writing that last bit?


Another one bites the dust!

For many years the world's greatest scientific minds have been desperately struggling to find the answer to the question of how the universe was formed. But now, all those boffins and egg heads have been given an even more baffling problem to solve: just how the hell did old Coal Scuttle Hands Newton win the wicketkeeping award?!!! One Oxbridge professor claimed that it had something to do with a the big bang theory, although this was later discovered to be the sound of the ball thumping into Kiwi's chest as he made another vain attempt to stop the damn thing. Sadly, as news of Kiwi's award leaked out there were reports of nine fellow SPL Division 2 wicketkeepers jumping off the nearest available cliff.

Malcolm and his exceedingly high trousers

Another baffling scientific phenomenon has been the case of Malcolm Douglas trousers. Can anyone out there fathom out how he manages to wear them so high? Apparently, during a Third XI match in June, Malcolm's trousers were recorded as being just 2.4cm below his nipples, beating the legendary George Hollobone's 18 year old record by more than 9mm. A great effort from the big man!

So poor old Keith Dabongo has been left out of the Zimbabwe squad for the Champions Trophy. This despite an excellent performance for the Thomas Tripp Paralytic XI versus Milford on Sea Over 95s which, to the three spectators present on Milford beach that memorable evening, must surely have warranted a phonecall from the Zimbabwe selectors. Keith was a man of few words . . . and runs . . . and wickets sadly.

An artist's impression of The Wobbly Tower

I'm told by the official club historian Meg Gannetway that it's the club's 2000th anniversary next year. There's talk of a posh new scoreboard to mark the occasion, although God knows how Johnny Jumpers will occupy his hands if there's no numbers to put up! Flashy scoreboards are all very well, but what we really need is something to pull the punters in; something like that great big pointy thing they've got down in Pompey - the Lineker Tower (or whatever it's called). So I've come up with my own iconic design to really take Lymington into the 20th Century - the Wobbly Tower! What a magnificent erection it could be, and what a fitting tribute to Tony Wharton as he nears his 95th birthday. The only drawback would be the cost. So I've had a word with the chairman and he's said that if we start collecting membership fees from the colts, their parents, their grannies, their great grannies, their pets and anyone else who happens to be within a five mile radius of the Sports Ground on a colts training night then he's sure that we could cover the estimated 28 million quid building cost within a matter of weeks!

I couldn't end this tremendous article without mentioning the lovely Councilor Smells from the Town Council. It seems that this so-called representative of the people has got it in for our beloved cricket club. Having tried and failed to get us all moved down to the Lymington Vandal Training Centre at Woodside, he has recently had yet another dig at us in the Lymo Times. He even had the nerve to say that we finished at the 'foot' of the league table, when we actually finished 8th out of 10, which, by my reckoning, is more 'knee' height or 'upper shin' at the very least. All I can say Councilor Smelly, is that you won't win many votes at the next election if you don't know your foot from your kneecap!

Well that's about all for now - I'm off for a quick siesta.

Adios amigos!

Larry the Lark

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