Toasters, thongs and tortured couplets

What's the winning caption? Find out below © Getty Images

One mistake, one silly foolish lapse of judgment, that's all it took. Sorry if I'm still banging on about the similarities between this caption competition and Michael Kasprowicz's dismissal at Edgbaston, but in both cases, time is most definitely not a healer. If anything, the pain just gets worse as the weeks go by and the emails flood in. God, if only I'd kept my hands out of harm's way!

I mean, what else can you do but despair when your inbox bulges to breaking point under the weight of such gems as: "Twinkle, twinkle, little England, NOW I VAUGHANder what you are!" (Mohammad Sheikh, shake your head in shame) or "Everyone is EDGy, as the last BASTiON falls" (Diptiman Yadav, ditto)?

How do you respond to such petitions as: "By the way, this is my third entry - one of them is surely good." (Yes, Adrian, I know it's your third entry, and no, they are all abysmal). And how many fat cricketers in thongs can you possibly have queuing up out of shot, ready to dive-bomb our poor protagonists?

Apart from the Warne-on-a-stepladder scenario, there were three other recurring themes to this week's contest. "We're really in the soup now!" was moderately funny up until the 400th email; "Ooh look, Flintoff's six is still travelling!" ran out of steam at about the 150-mark, while "Err, Kasper, this isn't a Jacuzzi ...!" should have remained well corked, in every sense.

And so, once the inevitable unmentionables had been filtered out, that left a pretty lean crop. "Hey Brett," declared Ocker Pom, "we're really in the **** now!" Oh, why's that, we all wonder with baited breath? "The guy at reception just told me that as well as Harmison, Jones and Flintoff, that Jack Hughes is really hot ..." (Jack Hughes? Jacuz? Geddit? Oh good grief.)

I could go on, but it's too painful. Instead, let's drown our sorrows (and yes, that was another popular suggestion) in Poetry Corner, which once again contained more tortured couplets than a marriage counsellor's waiting-room.

"Those stars are Warney's hatch, let's count our planet patch," wibbled Jagdish Singh in one of the more cryptic entries I've yet witnessed, and he wasn't finished there. "Victories are those stars still alight," he added. "Losses ... umm ... just a one-off satellite." Jagdish, I hear Brett's band, Six and Out, are looking for a new lyricist. Keep that phoneline clear, I implore you.

Jimmy Innes, meanwhile, was so moved by Lee and Kasper's predicament that he saw fit to rewrite the entire Lord's Prayer:

"Our Bradman, who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy average," he began. A promising opening, if a little off-the-subject. "Give us this day our daily sledge, and forgive us those two runs, and lead us not into hooking." I like what you've done there. "But deliver us from Harmison ..." Oh Lord, enough already!

Kiran David had a novel suggestion for the luckless last pair. "I told you we should have worn our Iron Maidens!" he announced to stunned silence from the assembled panel of judges. Yeah, Kiran, six hairy sweaty ageing rockers singing "Bring your daughter to the slaughter" would have been just the ticket in that final over. Or perhaps you mean a medieval torture instrument with spikes on the inside for impaling one's victims? Probably not, on reflection.

And so, with great trepidation, I bring you this week's shortlist. "Just lie back and think of England," suggested Linda in a moment of (autobiographical?) musing, while Jeremy from Melbourne earned a genuine titter for his offering: "Punter, I'm sorry about the duck jibe - just put the toaster down ..."

"Hey Ricky, we've found out what happened to the moisture in the Edgbaston pitch on the first morning!" was Mark Clay's topical suggestion, while Rafeey Kalem won the Psychotic of the Week award for his mildly over-the-top entry: "Do you see what I see up there? HUMILIATION!"

The penultimate word goes to Henry Ginsberg, who summed up the predicament perfectly as he imagined Ricky Ponting telling his errant tailenders: "As punishment for your batting inadequacies, you will be forced to pose for an indescribably embarrassing photo and have computer nerds write captions for it."

But, as England themselves demonstrated, there can be only one winner (unless it's a draw, but let's not confuse all these newcomers to the game), so take a bow, Chris Cole, for tickling the funny bone with this worthy effort:

Thanks once again to all who entered. Cricket may be the sexiest sport on the planet, but it's very comforting to know that you're all still atrociously unfunny. Please keep them coming to caption@cricinfo.com. In the meantime, here's next week's freeze-frame.