The Duckworth-Lewis method explained
It has been a long-standing ambition of mine, when I come to review things or simply give my opinion on important matters, that I should have a strong, steadfast rating system that tells you, the reader, what I really mean in a clear, concise manner that also appeals to my average visitor. You know: manky old perverts.
Take, for example, a review of, say, the Wallace and Gromit flick I paid good money to see in the cinema. I’m somewhat impressed, as a matter of fact, and apply my opinion of this fine cinematic work to the Duckworth-Lewis method, taking into account style, control damage and aggression. My report would look something like this:
Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit
A work of outstanding creative genius, albeit by a group of people with far too much time on their hands. An outstanding mix of gags for both kids and adults, and the word "arse" released into the wild like a killer rabbit. On a scale of 1 (Ann Widdecombe giving you the eye) to 17 (Sarah Beeny wrestling Kirstie Allsopp in a paddling pool filled with baby oil), I score this a hetfy
14: (Konnie Huq in a bath of beans)
That’s thumbs, way, way up there.
So, you are asking, what are the other points on the scale? Ah ha! I reply. I haven’t thought of them yet. This is were you come in, as my imagination has been sucked out of me with the utter totality of Michael Portillo at a McDonald’s extra-super-concrete milkshake.
1. Ann Widdecombe giving you the eye
2. Margaret Thatcher leather whip “happy finish” massage
6. The Princess Anne unnamed many-tentacled woe
11. Carol Vorderman rubbing up against a bollard for cold, hard cash
14. Konnie Huq in a bath of beans
17. Sarah Beeny wrestling Kirstie Allsopp in a paddling pool filled with baby oil
Go on then: suggest-me-up, or Number Two may pay a Hallowe'en visit.
Also: You may wish to do some suggesting-me-up for my bestest House of Lies Lie ever.