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Dec 23 – Under Seige

The England team have been engulfed in the Swanny controversy, with rumours abounding that the team is about to impode, explode or disappear up their own basksides. I guess there is a sequence of those three things that could be interesting to watch.

As a result, the whole England team is in lock down. We haven’t heard anything from Deep Third since the announcement. We assume security is tight and there is a communications blackout.

As for Dennis, our regular Barmy Army correspondent, he’s headed south to Hobart for a few days out of the heat before coming back to Melbourne early on Boxing Day, in time for the Test. He’s sent US an email asking what was going on with Swanny, so he’s no help at all. What do you cultivate these friendships for if not to be able to get some value out of them at some stage? [Ed. Friendship? Mutual respect? Good times?]

The Prof and I contemplated a course of action in our adopted position beside the roof top pool. That’s the exclusive one, for the sole use of those staying on the upper three floors, as against the other pool, which is full of screaming kids in town with their parents for a Christmas argument with their families and a day or two at the cricket.

“We have to get into their hotel somehow,” said The Prof, sipping on his Pina Colada. He was struggling to keep the little umbrella in his drink out of his nose.

Then it hit me.

drone-helicopter“What about that helicopter thing that Wicky has bought himself for Christmas? It’s got a video camera . . .”

“And live streaming. Let’s go.”

It was easy to get hold of the device – Wicky is so disorganised, his room if usually unlocked, although finding the thing took a few minutes of rifling through piles of dirty kit. We left him sleeping on the bed.

Back by the pool, we fired up the helicopter, testing the controls and making sure we could stream video back to The Prof’s laptop. With all systems go, and me at the remote control, we launched the Drone into the warm Melbourne afternoon.

After a few false moves, we got the thing under control and focussed on the “target”.

It wasn’t long before the copter was hovering above the pool at the England hotel. A few of the lads were relaxing by the pool, but they were clearly taking with some intensity.

“We have to hear what they’re saying,” said The Prof. “Get in closer.”

I manoeuvred the copter in low, and snuck up behind the group of players who were sitting close together on a group of sunlounges.

“It’ll be too noisy,” I said through clenched teeth. I hadn’t concentrated so hard since my last net session against Tatts and The Natural.

“Land it behind them. Can we creep up behind them on land?” said The Prof.

“It’s not a bloody Mars explorer, Prof.”

There was a jolt and the video streaming image was moving around wildly.

“I’ve lost control!” I hissed.

The hopter was being shaken, and finally spun around.

The last image we saw before we lost signal was KP’s smiling face.

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