2005 TOUR REPORT - EXMOUTH

Friday 24th June its 3:00 am in the morning and Exmouth in South Devon after four long weeks of hot sunny summer weather was just about to suffer a deluge, not just in rain but of Kings cricketers! Firstly a weather front moving in off the Atlantic was just about to run into the warm landmass of the UK. The result was a spectacular light show of incredible thunder and lightning plus torrential rain.

Kings 2005 tour had started in expectant fashion as the early tourists arrived in the seaside town of Exmouth on the Thursday night. Some had arrived even earlier, the duo of Smith & Sones were able to enjoy and quiet candle lit Italian meal before the more raucous members turned up. The new venue for Kings tour was Exmouth, just along the coast from the sleepy Victorian style seaside resort of Sidmouth that had been Kings' base for the last two years. The base in Exmouth was to be the Dolphin Hotel, which used to the home of a certain:
Reginald Alexander John Warneford VC- who was born in 1892 and was killed during World War I on the 17th June 1915. He was the first member of the Royal Navy Air Service to be awarded the Victoria Cross, the highest and most prestigious award for gallantry in the face of the enemy that can be awarded to British and Commonwealth forces.

Reginald was 23 years old, and a Flight Sub-Lieutenant in 1 Squadron, Royal Naval Air Service when on the 7th June 1915 he was flying over Ghent in Belgium. Flight Sub-Lieutenant Warneford attacked and completely destroyed the German airship LZ37 in mid air whilst it was on a bombing raid over the Belgium City. He had chased the airship from the coast near Ostend and, despite its defensive machine-gun fire, succeeded in dropping his bombs on it, the last of which set the airship on fire. The explosion overturned the attacking plane and stopped its engine. Having no alternative, Flight Sub-Lieutenant Warneford had to land in hostile country, but after 35 minutes spent on repairs, he managed to restart the engine and returned to base. Unfortunately he was killed in a flying accident near Versailles, France on the 17th June 1915. His Victoria Cross is on public display at the Fleet Air Arm Museum at Yeovilton, Sommerset. And the relevancy of this…? Well some of you will know that our own Paul Bygrave's actual full name is Paul Warneford-Bygrave, and Paul is a relative of good old Reg. The fact his relative had previously lived at the same building was a complete surprise to Paul, and he had actually booked the hotel - just one of those strange coincidences!

Reginald Alexander John Warneford VC

Garsh poses next to the Historic Exmouth Blue Plaque that recorded his ancestor's past residence in the building that is now the Dolphin Hotel

Anyway, back to the weather! And those who had been beering it up most of the evening were just about staggering out of the club and toward their beds looking for a few hours of shut eye when "god started to rearrange his furniture" - as my old mum used to say. With thunder, loud enough to rattle the windows, direcltly overhead of the hotel, sleep was not really possible for the slightly worse for wear cricketers! It was hard to say what was causing the most noise, the thunder or the rain lashing the streets!

When the boys in Devon were just about struggling down bleary eyed to breakfast the sun was still shining in London. The Skip and Windy set off from Basingstoke, met up with Julf and the Colonel and with sun on their backs set off west but heading for dark skies that seemed to signal armeggedon. The journey over Salisbury Plain revealed a horizon before them that saw black thunderous skies as far as the eye could see. Reports started to come over the radio that tents were floating away at Glastonbury and it seemed unlikely the game at Woodbury would go ahead. The journey over the Blackdown Hills close to Honiton was shrouded in thick mist and a call came in from Garsh that the game was indeed off due to rivers of water flowing acorss the square! Julf had decided on a route that went across country to Exmouth and past Woodbury where roads were found to be flooded! No cricket that day! Upon arrival at Exmouth the rain had finally stopped but the boys just arriving were greeted with tales of the spectatular storms of the night before by those who had a passion for glasses as dark as the 2005 tour t-shirts!. Having checked in and dumped the gear the team slowly assembled ourside the 'Warneford Residence' - sorry the Dolphin Hotel. Tales were then told of a set-to the night before between local residents and two Kings members…Police in attendance, claret split, chips on the floor - it seemed a grizzly event! We even saw grazed knuckles and blood on a cheek to substanciate the story. Well, this correspondent can exclusively reveal that this disagreement never took place..well there was a Police presence, there was some split chips, there was some grazed knuckles and some blood - but, and it's a big but…there was no rucking! Though 8 out of 10 for a great story boys!

With no cricket and no better plan in place it was decided we should go to the pub! There was a need for a short diversion into town to find a cash machine for most of the team - who had fallen into the old trap of spending all their tour money on the first nights booze. The duo of Smith and Sones seemed to know their way around having had most of the day before to explore and led us from the hole-in-the-wall to the beach front pub. 10 pints of larger and a bitter ordered the team gathered around the table football, darts board and pool table. Then the rules of the tour drinking time were announced and the introduction of the red and yellow card punishments explained. This basically was the need to always use your left hand to drink with. Any infringment noted would see a whistle blown, a yellow card brandished in your face and you had to down your drink. A second offence and it became a red card and the ultimate punishment being a drink of the referees choice from the bar. Needless to say within minutes the first victims were caught and people were being forced to down full pints! It was also not too long before the first victim of a RED card was found…the first of many! With lunch consumned by those who needed somethig other than liquid fuel there then followed discussions as what the should be the agenda for the rest of the afternoon.

Finally, with the tide out, it was decided that beach cricket should be the order of the day. A small kids cricket kit was purchased and the flatest and sandiest piece of beach selected. Just like being at school the teams were selected by the Captain's choosing a player one at a time alternating selection. Carribbean sat out as the offical umpire and photographer. Each player had to bowl an over and the batsmen batted alone, retiring upon reaching a score of 20. The opening overs were testing, as bowlers soon found that bounce was impossible off the sand, whilst the batsmen soon found that running the dozen or so yards between the wickets became tougher and tougher as the 'pitch' got churned up. The first innings saw the VC's five make a good fist of setting a target.

The hat trick was worthy of celebration

The Skip's five made the most horredous of starts as Windy tore through the top order batting with full length deliveries - taking a hat trick in the process. Only a Skippers innings gave the score any respectability. The VC's five second innings saw them crumble horridly as the rule of "hit it - you run" saw them have run out after run out. By now a crowd of spectators had gathered on the promenade, enjoying the afternoon sun, the selection of OAP's and wineos seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the entertainment - the first sign of the increasing interest in cricket during the summer? The Skip's Five chance of chasing the target in their second innings seemed unlikely when early wickets went down but with Ming now having developed a game plan of tip-n-run it was clear the following batsmen only had to follow the same policy to win the game! Yet events were to intervene in the plans when the bat handle parted company with the blade - a case of a 'broken bat stopped play'.

With not bat the game was declared an honourable draw and the team retired to the promenade to de-sand and examine the cuts to feet and massage the strains and aches of trying to run through the thick sand. Insides were then massages with more beer. Once again the drinking game was reinstated and it took on a new perspective as people started to 'rat' on team mates to the referee which brought a flurry of yellow and red cards. This correspondent personally had to down a Baileys and Port! By now the now infamous 'Spitter' had been born - quite aptly in the shape of a KING Cobra - this rubber gob machine was filled with beer which would then be propelled from it's fanged mouth in the direction of its victim. When not dowsing its victim in lager it would fly at its victim with a 'bite' at the back of the leg or back of the neck. It soon became apparent then whenever the first notes of the charming music drifted through the air it was time to be wary, but the 'Spitter' got its fair share of unsuspecting victims! Outside the pub in the late Friday afternoon sun it was difficult to believe that so much rain had fallen the night before.

The Colonel about to remove Julc's head!
This just about summed the game up!

The team slowly drifted back to the hotel to prepare for the evening ahead, some (those deprived of sleep the night before) took the opportunity for some shuteye before the evening ahead. The team assembled in the hotel bar - which was soon taken over by the black shirted tourists. The Hungarian bar man soon had his work cut out not only having to cope with the size of the orders but the rate at which the beer was being sunk. The late arrival of Cletus and Casper meant the table reservation at the 'Chinkie' was getting pushed back, which at least allowed time for more ale to be downed giving more opportunity for some more infringements of the drinking game. The missing tourists finally arrived, there were some thoughts that Casper had been there all along but nobody could see him. There then followed some confusion over a room for them, apparently Balzas the Hungo could not work out why we needed a twin bedded room when there was only one person - Casper again could not be seen! The boys actually had a special tour t-shirt for Casper - his very own white sheet - in case he wanted to go haunting rather than clubbing. With the total tour squad now assembled they set off for the Chinese restaurant. The group was split into two - those eating and those just quaffing. Those who did eat can verify that it was an excellent meal - and not a single bit spilt on anyone's shirt, which had to be a first for tour. Unfortunately the late arrival of Cletus and Casper meant that it was already quite late when the team left the restaurant. At this point some went onto the nightclub whilst some returned to the hotel bar for a card school.

The next morning everybody made it to breakfast and prepared to set off for the pub! Yes, the pub. The Lions game against the All Blacks being the lure to be there rather than the need for alcohol. Some of the team just returned to their beds, whilst Casper and Girth (or Skip for those who do not recall what was on the t-shirt) took a stroll down to the sea front and harbour. There they witnessed a strong rip tide that saw boats heading out to sea going backward one foot for every three foot they moved forward! The ferry crossing later that day was looking like fun indeed! We also met the wineos from the day before who wanted to know if we were the 'beach cricketers' - which we confirmed in the affirmative for them to advise it was the best entertainment they had had for ages. Not sure we should be proud of that coming from a group of Special Brew drinkers! The mauling of the Lions did nothing to lift spirits that were suffering from a lack of sleep and alcohol abuse and many only found a way back to their pits.

Come the appointed time the team gathered in front of the hotel with kit bags in tow in readiness to walk to the harbour and the point of departure of the Starcross Ferry. Fortunately the tide had now ebbed and the water was quite slack (some sailing terms there for you!). The boys did their best to take over the ferry, filling the inside lower deck with the kits bags and pretty much commandeering the top and rear decks. The Black shirted tourists made quite a talking point amongst the tourists who were also on the ferry, and this had nothing to do with the Colonel getting friendly with a boxer dog that was on board. Considering the distance between Exmouth and Starcross as the crow flies is only a matter of miles the ferry takes a rather long-winded route around the estuary of the river Ex avoiding the mud flats in the middle. It was not the only thing that was long winded - breakfast was now starting to work its way through that famous Miller digestive system and suddenly there was space available on the top deck as the smell of fish was replaced with something more akin to fresh dung in an elephant house. Having circumnavigated the estuary the ferry finally arrived at wooden pier and drew alongside.

'Mad Dog' and canine friend!
All aboard…but where's Casper?

As the tourists disembarked the crew gave out a 'good luck' message over the tanoy and off the team trooped down the pier passing the waiting tourists waiting to go to Exmouth. The representative of the Cockwood met the team and led them along a path along side and then over a railway line - if you were one of the players without a wheeled kit bag you either thought (a) now you know what a Himalayan sherper feels like going up Everest (b) knowing the meaning of pack horse or (c) simply time to buy a new kit bag with wheels - for the walk seemed long enough to have walked back to Exmouth by certainly with kit in tow. Finally a minibus was reached, the next challenge was a cross between a "It's a knockout" game and a challenge off "Record Breakers" - how many people can you cram into a 15 seat minibus plus 13 cricket kits, 1 box of awards and a driver…and in what sort of time!! With the mission sort of accomplished - men perched with kit on laps we sent off through the Devon lanes,

The Anchor Inn at Cockwood

not that we could see much of the countryside past the kit bags on our laps. Within 10 minutes we pulled up a small pub called the Anchor Inn opposite a small tidal harbour.
The people out enjoying their Saturday afternoon lunch were not sure what to make of this minibus now regurgitating kit bags and black shirted tourists. Once inside the pub we found a table totally reserved for us and soon the first pints of the afternoon were being downed. The menu proved very interesting with up to 40 different ways of having mussels! It also included a fantastic 'hanging meat' dish for two, which allowed you the opportunity to carve off your own meat from a joint hanging from a big hook! Wrighty was licking his lips in anticipation!

After a few beers it was time to cram into the minibus again for the short trip to the ground for the afternoons game. The pitch looked more like cabbage patch and seemed to have undulations similar to the Mendip hills! Along side the ground, in an adjacent field, the village fete was taking place and we were politely asked not to try and hit the ball over the hedge into the fete for fear of hurting the residents. With 13 players for this game it was not long before Caribbean and Stig were drawn to the sights and sounds of the fete, the tunes of the live band and the smell of the hog dogs proving more inviting than watching DP smashing the bowling around and Mince trying to survive another delivery whilst in his drink induced agonising death. When they returned loaded with burgers and cans of beer there was a sudden surge of desire from some of the team. With the game suitably won we all piled back into the minibus - this time heading for the alternative pub in Starcross. Upon arrival we had to dump our kit in the village hall as the minibus was needed elsewhere. The pub was busy and we had to commandeered a large part of the garden where the traditional awards were handed out

It then started to rain, but fortunately not enough to drive us inside. After a while we moved back to the Anchor where we should have been for just a quick pint before catching the minibus back to Exmouth, however as our host was enjoying himself so much the departure was put back and arrangements made for his wife to drive us back. This then got pushed back even further and the wife switched to the landlord - which enabled us to stay pretty much until closing time. The journey was not without event, the results of some tomfoolery with an umbrella meant that it eventually ended up with certain team member having a rumble, one in which a tour shirt got torn and DP, trying to act as referee, got injured. No more need to be said on this incident - as we all know what happened and after all what goes on tour stays on tour!

However the worst behaviour was still to occur. With the boys now hitting the hotel bar in large numbers our Hungarian friend behind the bar was worked of his feet it trying to keep up with the drinks orders that were now arriving every few minutes. Slowly but surely the drink started to take its toll on certain members, and one in particular. (Stig), who had been drinking pretty non-stop since lunchtime entered a new level of degradation, which went from one dare to another. First was his attempt to down a Smirnoff Ice whilst laying flat on his back on the floor. Any hope that this would all disappear down his gullet was soon proved more then hopeful and instead it soon took the quickest route out, which was back up out of his mouth in geyser fashion only to flow up his nose and with a nasty sting into his eyes. Not having been put off by this back firing stunt he then went into a self-exposure mode - where he went around dropping his trousers and underwear to openly expose his fruit and two veg on CCTV, which after several hours of drinking were less than impressive. Stage 3 of his onslaught of gaining attention for his self was to go around asking his team mates to hit him as hard as they could either in the stomach or even better right on the chin, his boast being that he would not feel a thing. Which was not surprising considering his state of drink-induced bravado.

Meanwhile Mince was working on a different slant, which was to ask anybody who would listen, to name their best three batsmen, bowlers and fielders. If he did not find himself within their list he would then spend 20 minutes or so arguing his case to be included. This then expanded into who would be the best to bowl the last over in a tight finish? Who would you want to be batting in a tight finish and whom would you want under the match winning catch?! The key was to try and avoid both of these two if you wanted a sane moment! Later hunger started to kick in and some went off to find kebabs and chips, whilst for the sake of the respectability at the hotel others dragged Stig to the beach. However this only led to more death defying dares such as throwing himself headlong down the beach or trying to jump off the seawall on to the beach below. This man was in a bad state and clearly thought he was superman or some other fictional super hero - basically he was totally pissed out of his head.

The next morning it was time to start getting packed ready to check out. Whilst this was on going it was being established by the tour management about the possibility of some golf on the edge of town. However a quick check of a map showed that not 5 minutes from where the beach cricket was played was a crazy golf course. The Colonel and Julc went to check it out and discovered this was ideal for our purposes. So we all gathered and on a lovely sunny morning we set off to invade the course. The multitude of obstacles caused men who had less than 8 hours before had been extremely drunk a series of difficulties, no more so that trying coordinate trying to get your ball between the rotating arms of a windmill whilst similar problems were encountered on the watermill hole. Of course the key was to find someone who was in a good enough physical state to stop Julc from winning.

Throughout the whole tournament one had to contend with the 'spitter' which had now adopted a flying role and was to be seen landing mid hole in an attempt to put off opponents. With the last hole being the watermill those who had finished gathered round to watch the painful sight of endless attempt to get the ball pas the rotating wheel. Heavens knows what the 10 year olds in the queue behind made of this torrid affair of grown men struggling with what should have been so easy. Many of those in the running to win lost their opportunity by taking several more than par on this hole of death. A few of us won a free game by 'ringing-the-bell' on the "last" hole; winners donated their games to children just about to start their rounds, generous to the last!

Imagine how much trouble the windmill obstacle caused a bunch of guys with hangovers
Cricket tour…or Mafia gathering?
Waiting for the result to be announced !
It was all being taken very seriously - anything to stop Nick from winning

Having monopolised the crazy golf it was time to see what mayhem we could cause next, we passed on causing havoc on the boating lake!

On our way back to the hotel we passed a fete being held on the seafront, which was drawing the attention of many of the day visitors on the sunny Sunday morning. What caught or eye was a couple of old guys who had set up a 'smash to the crockery stall', just like a coconut shy but with plates in place of the nuts! For 50p you got 3 balls and it just seemed too good an opportunity to miss. Early attempts were not good but once the distance was judged the first plates and vases were being smashed to smithereens…except when Stig had a go. Ball after ball missed its target by feet, such was he frustration he had a second 50p's worth, and then another 50p - result, £1.50p - 9 balls, 9 misses! Of course once Garsh and Bodrum got a go it was time to introduce so extra spice, which was to place the 'Spitter' in a vase with its head-poking out as if being charmed out - just in time for the vase to explode into pieces around it. Everybody had a go and by the time we had finished there was not much crockery left worth putting up. We had fun as did the assembled crowd of OAP's who found it compulsive viewing, especially watching Stig hurl down ball after ball without a single success!

Determination and concentration were vital…but Granny found it fun!

On the way back to the hotel we split into group different groups to take in some lunch before the game at Honiton. We also said goodbye to Mince who was making his way home for a family function. With tired minds and bodies, sitting in the sun seemed far more inviting than having to play cricket, but having checked out of the Dolphin Hotel we loaded up into various cars for the short cross country journey to Honiton. When we arrived we were told than Honiton had a weak team out as they thought that would be ideally suited to a 'pub' side. Their Captain was quick to change his mind though when he saw us all dressed in the same T-shirts and quickly thought he should call up a strong reserve for his missing 11th man.

Before the game some warmed up with a knock around, others where not in a good way and sort shade or took the opportunity to catch some sleep. Meanwhile Smut, who was about to join the Kempton tour and was sitting this game out found a good position in the clubhouse, which enabled him to watch our innings whilst also being able to watch the England ODI on the TV, with of course regularatory pint in hand!

In the game Kings managed to post a reasonable score but an early injury to Garsh that hampered our bowling and then the heroics of the late arriving 11th man for Honiton saw that the home side were victorious despite our hard work in the field. By the time the game had finished and the side showered people we keen to push on home and the drinking was subdubed and short before we set of back east. It may not have been how we had wanted the tour to finish but it could not overshadow a superb tour, that had started damp, but finished in beautiful sunshine

Sleep was all some needed…..
……despite the distractions on the boundary