Just a small urn for me, please barman

Aussies – you pour the pints, we’ll win the Ashes. Thank you very much.

Anyone for cricket? Here at LondonTown.com towers we spent Monday glued to the radio, and just now the England team sailed past our windows in their victory bus, looking a bit the worse for wear after getting drunk all night. The exploits of Flintoff and co in their post-match bender are lovingly reported all over the papers today. And why not? They deserve it.

I’ve always had a soft spot for cricket, as sports go. I couldn’t bring myself to care about the rules or any such nonsense but it does seem a particularly civilised sport, and well suited to picnicking. This summer, though, has seen months of obligatory indoctrination at work and in my social life.

Thanks to the wall chart distributed by our Entertainment Editor (doesn’t he have better things to do?) I am now au fait with the fielding positions from Deep Square Leg all the way to Silly Mid On. No pop for the girls on the radio – just hours and hours of drawled commentary, mainly concerning cakes.

And what do you know? As Kevin Pietersen smashed his way to a century and a half, poor Sadie was literally hoarse with excitement. Of course, it’s always thrilling for a West London girl like myself to see the Aussies humbled, but there’s no doubt that cricket had got under my skin even more then football during Euro 96.

I think it must be because they’re all so nice. The Australians applauded us on the way to a victory that must have made them want to cry, and we sang a farewell song to Shane Warne that was the oddest tribute ever offered to an opponent: ‘We only wish you were English’. He was obviously moved and the whole five-match series was played in just such a gentlemanly, sporting spirit.

I see from today’s Torygraph that the army’s top brass agree – if only our lads could aspire to be cricketers, not footballers. Certainly, the transformation in my male friends is remarkable - from screaming at the telly for 90 beer drenched minutes to politely and patiently applauding five days of telly whilst sipping Pimms. Let the boys have their sport, and they’re happy. Especially if we trounce the Aussies.

Here’s hoping this remarkable victory gives a much needed tonic to the game of cricket, and that a summer of civilised sporting triumph will set us up for an autumn of boys dressing smartly, holding doors open and speaking properly.

In reality, I suspect the new moral fibre manifesting itself among my male friends will disappear during our planned gloating binge around the pubs and bars of Earl’s Court. But I wouldn’t miss that particular spree for the world.

TheTemeraire Fights Again

The ballots are counted – more than 120,000 of them – the results are in, and Turner’s The Fighting Temeraire is officially the nation’s favourite painting. The next stage is the worldwide competition – the inhabitants of Germany, Spain, France America and a host of others are going to vote for their favourites, and then the paintings will all be entered into a massive Eurovisison style final. Hopefully with Terry Wogan commentating.

Ticket to Ride

London Transport users get to make more out of their tickets thanks to the ‘Everyone’s London’ campaign. A Tube or bus ticket is all you need to access discounts and deals on shows, museums, restaurants and top attractions. Our pick of the bunch: half price London Eye.

Obi-Wan's Cloak Found in Fancy Dress Shop

The original Obi-Wan Kenobi cloak, worn by Sir Alec Guinness in the 1977 ‘Star Wars’ film, has been recently discovered in a fancy dress shop on Shaftesbury Avenue. Hidden among hundreds of other monks' robes, the famous cloak is said to be worth an estimated £25,000 and is currently on display in Harrods as part an exhibition of British film costumes.

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