The Watto exception

"Daddy, after church, will we be having a roast dinner surrounded by the bosom of our family on this special day of rest?"

"Yes, son, and after that we'll all go for an idyllic walk to the village green and feed the ducks while we watch the friendly local Bobby doing a Morris Dance. What's wrong with you? We're going to sit here on the sofa drinking Stella, watching the cricket and hurling abuse at Shane effing Watson."

"But dad, I thought you said to remember that sport is only a game and it's more important to play it in the right spirit and respect your opponent."

"Firstly, I only said that to cheer you up because you're so totally useless at games, for which I blame your mother, incidentally. Secondly, that's absolute rubbish, especially when it comes to watching Shane Watson."

"But dad, surely you can't help but be thrilled by the powerful blond allrounder's buccaneering 161 not out in pursuit of England's imposing total?"

"I can help but be thrilled by it, boy. The man's a complete weapon."

"But he hit a six off the last ball to finish it, dad. What style! What derring-do!"

"I hope he chokes on his surfboard, the posing, blond, overly-muscled tw--"

"Don't be too hard on the boy, love," she says. "He's only young, he's only just started following this bizarrely erratic England ODI outfit. He doesn't remember 1994-1995, when England lost to Australia's 2nd XI in an ODI tournament. Or chasing 272 in Melbourne in 1999, and falling agonisingly short by just 162 runs. Or even 2009, when we lost six ODIs to one. He thinks Sajid Mahmood and Steve Harmison are just mythical creatures. He hasn't suffered like we've suffered."

"I thought we had to be magnanimous in victory but gracious in defeat, dad."

"That's right, son. We do. Just not with Aussie cricketers like Shane Watson."

"Okay dad. I guess."

"Now go and get your father a can of Stella and let's hear no more about it, poppet."