The villain, apparently alive, describes the best hat in the audience as “like a funnel made of dove-colored net, but backwards, with fiies trapped in it” This is every bit as good as that time in Australia in 1975, they all agree, drinking their tea and eating home-made cakes sent in by the fans. The poet comments favorably on the icing and sugar-preserved violets. The Yorkshire man discourses on the nature of sponge. The villain clatters his cup too hard on his saucer. To cover his embarrassment, the poet begins scrolling through Twitter on his phone, reading aloud the best memes in his enchanting milky voice. Then, with joy, he reads an @ from an ornithologist at the University of Reading: seagulls do eat tacos! A reference is cited; the poet reads it aloud Everyone cheers. You are honestly - against your will - kind of into it! but also: weirdly enraged. “Was that __. it?" you ask, deeming it safe to interrupt “No." says the person who likes cricket, “This is second tea break on the first day. We won't know where we really are unti lunch tomorrow.” And - because you cannot stop them - you have to accept this; if cricket teaches you anything, it is this gentle and radical acceptance

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