Cancel Culture

Fantasy Bob has been reading much in the media about cancel culture.  If he understands correctly it is the intention of the UK Government to cancel cancel culture.  This move has been criticised as a perpetuation of a divisive culture war.  Critics also say that it a tactical distraction from all manner of difficulties to which the Government would prefer no attention to be drawn.  Presumably this refers to the sorry performance of English batsman during the second test at Chennai.  But not exclusively.

FB shares those concerns.  Furthermore from the point of view of the lower league cricketer, FB has to say that the Government has got it wholly wrong.  In the lower leagues there is not enough cancel culture.  

Lower league cricketers are compelled to turn up at the appointed hour, even as the heavens pour down; even as the clouds darken further; even as the playing surface disappears under the deluge.  They will stand in a bedraggled group at the boundary.  They will utter the immortal phrase, 'We'll just give it another half-hour.'  

The half hour having passed, they will look up again and repeat the mantra, 'We'll just give it another half-hour.'  As if the rain gods in whatever dry fastness of an Olympus they inhabit these days are likely to respond.  

Players used to look at the clouds seeking with their naked weather eye a lighter patch amid the all embracing greyness.  Now, they consult all manner of weather radar to monitor the minute movements of weather fronts and pepper the audience with spurious meteorological exactitude.  'It'll be down to 90% probability of rain in 30 minutes.'  An excited murmur will pass through the group.  This is hugely significant.  For the lower league cricketer that 10% is notably nearer certainty than the 90%.  

'We can take tea early.'  The juniors distracted so far by and endless series of one-hand-one-bounce perk up.  The true believers consider this another another invocation which is bound to appease the rain gods.  For classical mythology tells us that they do not disfavour mortals whose bellies are filled with egg and cress sandwiches and Mr Kipling's Cherry Bakewells.

'It's down to 85% now.'  Optimism spreads through the company.  'We could reduce the overs.'  At this point, as the evening nears, all hope of common sense is lost.

Not that there was very much at the outset.  For the common sense response would have been to look out the window many hours ago, feign disappointment and cancel.  

And that's the problem - notwithstanding the enthusiastic baying of Government supporters, there is, quite simply, not enough cancel culture.