MARTIN JOHNSON

One of the things that irks me about Twenty20 is that it prevents you from enjoying what has always been the inalienable right of all cricket spectators. Namely, a snooze in the deckchair, followed by a spot of good natured heckling should events out in the middle not be proceeding entirely to your liking.
There’s nothing more pleasurable, to my mind, than a half-hour kip after lunch, waking up to find that Bloggs is still on the same seven not out that he was when you put your head down, and waking up your next door neighbour with an anguished cry of: “gerr...