Life on Mars?

I had this idea to write a post about how England, upon having reached an impressive score, would launch their strategy, trialled in a previous match, of tripping batsmen over and running them out.

This tactic would see them win for sure. And Vaughan would be responsible, so we wouldn't have to endure Paul Collingwood sooking it up at a press conference ("Mummy!").

However it would seem that contrary to, well, my belief, they might just have the skill to bowl Graeme and his boys out.

Upon reflection of this last sentence, I think it's all a bit generous, especially my use of the word 'skill', which is often bandied around. Let's be honest; South Africa are just useless.

Somewhere along the wall the wheels fell off, rolled into a pool of ethanol and caught fire. The consequences were not only disastrous for Ian Bell, who was standing nearby at the time, but also for Graeme Smith who needs to bloody retrieve and repair them.

But watching this match has been like opening a brand new bag of previously unknown cricket emotions.

The joy of watching South Africa humiliate themselves.

The horror of watching England doing well.

The surprise that England aren't playing as defensively as usual.

The amusement in seeing Ian Bell dismissed on 199.

The hope that England are being lured by flukes into a false sense of security, as opposed to actually, er, bothering.

Further to this, the wonder of whether they're serious about winning for once or would take the light without hesitation as usual.

It's a world gone topsy-turvy.