The pains of playing for England

"Coach," said Stuart Broad. "My back really hurts."

"Nonsense, boy," said Andy Flower. "What you lads need is a bloody good run and then a bit of weightlifting. You'll be right in no time. And maybe a few games of rugby and a bit of wrestling and maybe a session in a very heavy canoe."

He regarded them distastefully.

"Bloody softies," he said. "Do you know, when I was your age, I would drag a piano through mud with my teeth and then run up Mount Kilimanjaro with a wardrobe on my back, and get an elephant to stamp on my spine in order to warm down and make sure I didn't get complacent. And we never saw a banana until we were 42, even though we lived in Africa, not until we came to Essex. And you could leave your front door open and go for a 150-mile run with Goochie and nobody would come in and mess with your home gym equipment."

"But coach," groaned Broad. "I am just a promising young allrounder with the cricket brain of a much more experienced professional and the physique of an 11-year-old girl. I can't take all this physical exertion."

"It's true, sir," said Graham Onions. "I don't want you to think I'm not grateful and all, rescuing me from a life of toil down the pit or call centre, or listening to Harmison talk about Newcastle United and his bairns and Lovejoy and that every hour God sends. And you saved us from being made to do a humiliating benefit-year roadshow of amusing puns with Phil Mustard to put food on the table and everything. But you're driving us too hard."

"Rubbish," said Flower. "You boys just need toughening up."

"What about Sidebottom?" said Broad. "We all seen him driven off in that van that said JP Knackington And Sons - Animal Slaughterers on the side."

"Oh, don't be silly, Stuart," said Flower. "That van belonged to a very expensive Harley Street physiotherapist who had simply forgotten to paint over the sign that had been left there by the vehicle's previous owner. Why, as we speak, Ryan is in a fantastic clinic getting the best treatment money can buy, and he'll be back to his old self in no time. Now let's have no more whining, Stuart, and as a special treat, you can lead the squad in 1000 press-ups and then a nice run around Chittagong in these deep-sea-diver outfits and boots."

"Sir, yes sir," said Broad unhappily, as he reached for his trusty Nurofen. Was life always this unfair?