Somewhere in New Zealand, probably with mountains in the background

"Well, I think our younger batsmen will receive a bit over the next couple of hours," grimaces Brendon McCullum, looking down at the green pitch as he is asked to respond to the glum news that England have lost the toss.

He is right, of course: New Zealand are 90-7, as the players tuck in to a rack of lamb for lunch, and Steven Finn tucks into his former bleater with special gusto, having taken the first five wickets of what is a lucrative tour for him.  His bowling speed may have reached 100 mph at one point, although it is impossible to know for sure, because for some reason the Kiwi television producers have set the speedgun to record in kilometres per hour.  Back in England, Nigel Farage asks indignantly whether New Zealand is now French, or something.

The afternoon session sees a spirited, but all too brief, fightback from McCullum and Doug Bracewell. However, when the Kiwis finally collapse to 146 all out, even Sky television's Ian Smith is glum.

Things do not get much better when England bat.  Bracewell is the only bowler able to extract any zip off a gentle cricket pitch.  Whilst Nick Compton edges Bracewell to Ross Taylor at first slip for a steady 36, there is simply no question of Jonathan Trott or Alastair Cook being dismissed on the first day. England are on 146-1 at the close of play.

In order to breathe some life into the second day, and perhaps to improve the paltry attendance by the paying spectators on the first day, New Zealand prime minister John Key announces that the New Zealand parliament will sit in the stands at the University Oval, for one day only.  They debate the motion that "Test cricket should be split into two tiers, in order that it may remain meaningful for supporters of New Zealand and Bangladesh, and also in order that the Irish should be given a chance". They pass the motion 69-0.

Whilst the enthusiasm of Mr Key and his friends is not enough by itself to arouse interest from the Dunedin crowd, as the day passes, the stands fill; to the point of capacity, and then to the point that the (refreshing and sensible) ground stewards let willing spectators sit just beyond the boundary ropes; for something magnificent happens.

Bracewell has a clear limp, as he takes to the field, but takes the second new ball nevertheless. It is clear though that the cut to hit foot has worsened with the previous day's bowling, but he carries on into the Dunedin wind. He picks up the occasional wicket, and that is only notionally why he is out there. For as first his show, and then as every second footprint in his run up become blood-sodden, even the beige brigade start to understand that he is bowling because he has realised he can be magnificent. Fifteen overs and three wickets later, he changes his socks and (eschewing offers for a massage or something in the dressing room) goes to field at fine leg for the rest of the day.

Still, for all Bracewell's heroics, New Zealand are not very good at cricket.  Ian Bell quietly scores a century, explaining later that he was not affected by Kane Williamson's sledging at cover, because he could not understand what he was saying. So pronounced (if that is not an unfortunate word to use) was Williamson's accent, that the educated Warwickshire batsman believed the Kiwi was speaking Cornish. With ten minutes to go before close of play, England decide that enough is enough, and declare on 500-5.

It is all over quite quickly the next morning, and but for a few lusty blows from Bracewell, New Zealand would not have made it to 100.  It is difficult to be sure whether Steven Finn's match figures of 12-121 are a little generous to him, because the Black Caps batting is improved second time around, it is coming from an under-developed base.