Hmm. As cricket is so redolent of the sound of leather on willow on village greens while nannies push babes in Silver Cross Balmorals past the tea room to the duck pond and warm beer is served at dinky tables under the weeping willow outside the little thatched inn, and as so many of the best cricketers are the product of public schools, etc., I'd have thought that cricket would actually be right up your Tory alley, Bonzo...