Between Simon Crane and Beesley, overs 10-20 against Warlingham - first place in the ‘that’s definitely a village in Surrey’ awards nine years running - went for 10 runs.

One of their bats dotted up 19 of their first 20 balls. People got Oasis tickets faster than that he got a single.

The fates conspired again Calum Daley, who did everything but get a wicket. Top edges landed safely, catches fell just short, LBWs struck inches off line.

At 70 odd for 3 at drinks, we were feeling pretty good about the hottest of ends to a scorching Plough summer. Alas, our levity was short lived.

Because the batsman had a chat about the bird and the bees at drinks. And they decided it was time to stop using protection.

The Plough continued to chip away. A skier was s-Nair-ed by Rahul.

Side note: Nothing fills a bowler with confidence more than a fielder shouting “oh sh*t!” as the ball flies in their direction. For Rahul’s internal monologue had spilled out into the open.

The red cherry flew up into the pure blue sky. Did he sh*t the bed? You’re god damn right he didn’t. One more down and the Plough were marching on.

But eventually, two bats set themselves like Michaelangelo’s David. Umar, to quote them, was “swinging it miles”. But even his best efforts were in vain.

Angus drew the short straw at the end of the innings. Good areas, but the batters were now seeing the ball like Epcot, taking Warlingham to a total of 233.

With barely time for a chocolate fondant, Angus was back out there reaping his revenge as an opener, and 30 of the classiest runs you’ll ever see whizzed by. Umar stylishly passed 50. Still a lot to do, but the Plough-mentum was building.

Parks got himself into the 20s (doesn’t he literally always?). But Warlingham is known for two things: being “a village and civil parish in the Tandridge district of Surrey, England, 14 miles south of London and 22 miles east of Guildford”; and producing a leg spinner that can change the game.

Our middle order, alas, scored in binary, as a fine display of very unvillage bowling descended upon us.

Plough wrapped up some 50 runs short after taking it to the 37th over.

Once we’d finished, watching Aza smash records on the other pitch was joy itself. I had so much fun I even forgot my plough branded cup, the latest in my string of stash losses (see replacement baggy).

Umar’s insistence on a shower after the match was mildly creepy, but he’s such a sexy batter I was tempted regardless.

To those finished the season this week, it’s been a pleasure. To those playing again next weekend, we who are about to die salute you.