Having taken one look at the pitch originally allocated for the Headingley Test, the English think-tank concluded that it would be far too helpful for Shane Warne, and substituted it so successfully that the Australian leg- spinner took only one miserable wicket in the entire match.
Some wet blanket in the pub the other night pointed out that this merely resulted in England being cleaned up by another set of earrings instead in Jason Gillespie, but this is the kind of negative, nit-picking that has plagued our national summer game for years. Neutralise Warne, add a dash of bad weather, and there's no telling how many times we can delay Australian victories until the fifth day.
However, it is not only the team who are now properly prepared for Test matches. Not so long ago the cricket spectator would leave home with nothing much more than a sandwich tin and a plastic mac, but nowadays is more likely to be asking his wife over breakfast: ``What shall I go as today, dear? A pantomime cow, or a carrot?''
The pantomime cow, or the back end of it, sadly spent a night in Leeds Royal Infirmary, having been battered against the advertising hoardings by a posse of thugs masquerading as stewards. The maddened cow is reported to be consulting its lawyers over a clear case of MSD, or Mad Stewards' Disease.
The carrot received less heavy-handed treatment, merely being escorted from the ground for the offence of being a wobbly carrot - having nourished its roots with something stronger than a light sprinkling from a watering can. In fact, the carrot was probably nothing more than a tabloid newspaper reporter, anticipating another England defeat and offering a variation on the old turnip routine.
Pitch invasions appear to be particularly virulent in Yorkshire, whether it be a Test match or more modest occasions like the Scarborough Festival. Maybe it's something they put in the Tetley's, or all those years of boredom waiting for Boycott to score his next single.
The pitch invaders themselves are also more entertaining than at other grounds. During the 1989 Headingley Test against Australia, a local madame who had been landed with a £14,000 bill from the Inland Revenue took to the field in her working clothes (i.e., none) with the words 'no' and 'tax' felt-tipped on her buttocks. Her posterior could, incidentally, have accommodated a much larger message, and she was sufficiently well-built to have made even the Headingley stewards think twice about tackling her.
Yorkshire County Cricket Club are apparently reviewing their policy of employing local rugby club prop forwards to knock seven bells out of anyone encroaching on the field of play, which will doubtless, as with all issues at Yorkshire, result in several years of arguing, resignations and splinter groups. Come to think of it, an apprenticeship on the Yorkshire committee ought to be essential training for anyone aspiring to high office at the RFU.