Na-na na-na na-na na na na, Duckett’s on the piss. On the piss. Duckett’s on the piss.
Don’t take me home, please don’t take me home. And while we’re here, stand up, stand up, please do stand up if you love a two-day Test on a pitch as green and ridged as an under-ripe roasting potato. For an hour in mid-afternoon on day two at the MCG England’s top order finally did the thing. The clocks stopped. Dogs miaowed. Birds flew backwards across the sky. And Test cricket turned into darts.
