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Eleven months after our visit to Newquay, the team doctors ruled that our livers had healed well enough, and our digestive systems sufficiently cleansed themselves of pasties, to allow us to embark on a second summer tour. But the build-up to the trip was not without controversy. Community leaders on the Isle of Wight raised doubts over the morality of letting the St Anne's Allstars tour their island. What were the implications for their tourist industry of letting fourteen idiots lay waste to taxi interiors, upset hotel staff and popularise small children's use of the word 'c***'? Ranged against them were local vendors of premium strength lager, who were predicting bumper profits. This argument eventually won the day, and off we set from Waterloo, steeling ourselves for the long-awaited attempt on the All-England record for vodka Red Bull consumption...
Here we are on the train to Portsmouth, and after the previous year's experiences, Roger's taking no chances with his luggage. Limiting his personal effects to a pair of sunglasses and 90,000 B&H, he also appears - in a pre-emptive strike - to have spiked Tom's Coke.
Tristan and Boves prepare to board the train from Ryde to our tour base in Shanklin. Enthusiasts of rolling stock will be interested to learn that the Isle of Wight Railway use converted tube carriages. Uncharacteristically, I failed to fall asleep on them and end up in Seven Sisters.
The seven-strong advance party, shortly to be joined by Dolphin, arrive in Shanklin. The excited reaction of the town's residents is evident here in the total absence of ticker-tape parades, firework displays, or a welcome party of local dignitaries.
Our first night on the island is chiefly memorable for the unusual flavour of the late-night conversation at the Perran Lodge hotel. It's not for us to describe its owners' approach to race-relations as a little old-fashioned, but let's just say that the likes of Floella Benjamin and Sir Trevor McDonald might be best advised to seek accommodation elsewhere. One of the party also made the remarkable assertion that she was good friends with Kenny Baker, the diminutive actor who played R2-D2 in Star Wars and who, unlike the majority of Hollywood movie legends, has apparently decided to base himself not in Bel Air, but the Isle of Wight. She further claimed that it would take just one phone call to prove the existence of their relationship, by him coming over to the hotel at 4.00am in full costume.
The early part of Friday was spent in our traditional pre-match warm-up routine: mini-golf, Bowlingo and ice cream. Then it was off to Porchfield CC for that evening's 20 over a side contest against what proved to be rather strong opposition. Despite the smiling faces, we got a good kicking.
My team-mates reward my organisational efforts with loyalty, respect and co-operation. Nothing is too much to ask of them, and they're especially aware that our high profile role in public life entails certain responsibilities when it comes to media access. As you can see, Jason is only too happy to acede to my request for a photograph.
Our innings was not an unalloyed success. With Tristan among the early victims as we declined to 9-3, James Terrett bravely counter-attacked with a robust 28, although Porchfield seemed to have divined the limits of his shot-selection when they posted three fielders on the midwicket boundary. Our all-out total of 95 was at least 40 below par.
The familiar sight of the umpire signalling a wide, as we struggle to contain Porchfield's batsmen. Our hopes were briefly raised when a couple of quick wickets ushered to the crease an unremarkable looking young kid in helmet. No problem here, we thought. Ironically named A. Ringer, he proceeded to top score with 40 and lead his side to an eight-wicket victory.
(back row, l-r) Dave Halladay, Mike Bovill, Jason Nixon, Chris Gould, Nick Jones, Roger Pordes, Tom Everest (scorer); (bottom row) Tristan Haddow-Allen, James Terrett, Maxie Haddow-Allen, James Devlin, Kieron Dolphin.
In Newquay 2002 we stayed at the Cliffside, without doubt the worst hotel in the northern hemisphere, and thoughtfully booked for us by the sheister conmen who are Teamlink Travel. But our base for three of the four nights in Shankin was the Melbourne-Ardenlea - very nice and thoroughly recommended. Here we are relaxing on the bar patio, possibly reflecting on my controversial use of the 'Vulcan death grip' tactic during an attempt to befriend two local women in the bar on Friday night.
Boves can't bear to watch as the epic Dolphin-Pordes table-tennis clash reaches a searing climax - and proves just how far the Chinese squad will need to raise their game ahead of the next Olympics. Despite the use of a real, hard, table-tennis ball, Kieron has bravely opted to eschew his usual protective equipment of helmet and plate-metal armour. Nearest camera, Chris Gould is on hand with his traditional Alan Hansen-style analysis: "You'll win nuttin' wi' fags!"
The annual Saturday night gala dinner - although judging by his choice of shirt, James 'One Dart' Devlin appears to have been expecting to perform at the Lakeside, Frimley Green. During a meal which passed largely without incident, Dirty Jim sadly failed to live-up to his much celebrated performance at the Meadery 2002, with not a single occurence of passing out at the table or singing about the IRA.
At Jason's corner of the table, meanwhile, a theme is developing.
And in the bar afterwards, Devers tries a variation.
After the bar, on to southern England's most exclusive nightspot: Colonel Bogey's in Newport. Overcome with excitement at the personal appearance by Craig from Club Reps Ibiza, Boves and Devers decide to pose for an imaginary camera three feet to my right.
The paparazzi are out in force, meanwhile, to catch a glimpse of the pair dubbed 'the new Posh and Becks'.
Sunday afternoon, and with the words "what part of 12.45 don't you understand?" ringing in their ears, the surviving Allstars emerge from their Vodka Red Bull-induced stupor to face the pre-match media photocall. (Back row, l-r) Nick Jones, Jason Nixon, Chris Gould, Tristan Haddow-Allen; (middle) Roger Pordes, Dave Halladay, Maxie Haddow-Allen; (front row) James Devlin, Kieron Dolphin, Adam Clements, James Terrett, Mike Bovill, and, er, Les from Lake Cars.
It's one thing to be sledged by the oppo, another by your own team-mates; on this tour, I was sledged by the cab driver. As a reward for dubbing me 'Captain Mainwairing', we break the Allstars transfer record to make Les our first overseas signing.
To Brading CC, and Devers walks out for the toss. After I'd woken that morning too hungover to see, never mind set fields, One Dart had earlier been appointed stand-in captain for the day. On arrival at the ground he made an immediate statement of intent by vomiting all over the inside of Jason's car.
After electing to bat first our innings seemed in ruins at 44-5, only for Dave Halladay to transform our fortunes with an imperious and unbeaten 89. It was a performance of class, courage and skill, in no way devalued by the fact Brading only had seven fielders and put an eleven year old on to bowl.
As the tail help Dave construct an eventual total of 177, the exhilaration shows on the spectators' faces.
Brearley and Jardine reborn: Boves and Devers team up as joint captains and take turns to order me from fine leg to fine leg. When everyone stops laughing, we get our heads down to pull off one of our finest ever displays in the field. With Tristan bowling brilliantly, and everyone holding their catches, we chip away the Brading wickets to dismiss them for 128 and win by 49 runs.
Back to the hotel bar for the final evening of the tour, and Boves and I are the last survivors - linking up with a few locals for a sophisticated night of 21s, table tennis and real ale.
The hotel owner's son then hoodwinks us into the funnel game. This ostensibly involves dropping a two pence piece from your forehead into a funnel inserted into your trousers. But in truth it's a rouse - of which the victim, perhaps predictably, is...
...Boves. Drunk and tired, and with water streaming down his legs...what more fitting closing image could there be for Isle of Wight 2003?
Maxie Allen
Other tours: Newquay, 2002 Belfast, 2004 Menorca, 2005.
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