I used to play cricket with Keith. He was intelligent, idle and fat. I loved him.
When Keith left university with a degree in Politics, Philosophy and Economics he sought the job that would bring him maximum wealth with the minimum physical exertion. He became a tax accountant. Just as he hoped, he grew rich and fat. He also continued to play cricket.
For obvious reasons Keith favoured hitting boundaries. Our home ground lay beside a busy railway line. Keith’s ambition was to kill a passenger. He failed to do so but he managed to maim a dog. He cheerfully paid the vet’s bill.
Keith’s mother, who lived in Scotland grew concerned about Keith’s corpulence. For his birthday one year she sent him a kitset rowing machine. Keith returned it to the manufacturer to have an ashtray fitted to it.
When it was Keith’s turn to buy drinks in the pub he used to wave a ten-pound note above his head. Inevitably someone would ask him why. Keith then asked them to go to the bar for him and to keep the change. It always worked.
As a tax accountant Keith charged his clients in inverse proportion to the length of advice he gave them. If he could boil down what he had to say into one short paragraph he charged them a ransom. If he needed three pages, he felt he hadn’t done his job well and charged a pittance.
The apotheosis of Keith came a few years ago in our annual match against the Aylesbury West Indians. The West Indians always bowled first and fast. Keith is a coward. He stayed in the pub long enough at lunchtime to avoid having to open the batting.
But our skipper was a sod from Yorkshire. When Keith arrived, the skipper told him to hurry up and put his pads on. Keith refused. The skipper insisted. Keith padded up.
A big quick had paced out a run that took him to the sight-screen. Keith took guard. The slips crouched. The quick ran in. The crowd fell silent. The bowler reared into his delivery stride. Keith knocked his own stumps over.
"Oh golly gosh,” said Keith, “look what silly me’s done,” and he retired to a deckchair to snore the afternoon in great contentment.
But it’s an odd world. Two years ago Keith fell in love with a globe trotting Chinese lawyer. She likes opera and thin men. Keith shed weight. He now bowls leg-breaks.