The Gabba

"Can I borrow that radio please, Umpire Dar? Assuming you've finished with the third umpire?"

It's been a long day for Alastair Cook. A long match, even. 101 in the first innings, 78 not out in the second, setting up the declaration. It looked like England's match to win. Then, Finn's wickets had made the win look inevitable. 7 wickets down with fifty overs to go.

But then, the long delay in the afternoon, as Steve Smith had to be carried off the field; imagine not wearing a box in international cricket? Word from the dressing room was that he had paid a heavy price for supporting the Go Commando in November appeal, to raise money for testicular cancer.

Then the rain delays, then - this. Clouds rolling in, blackening the sickly sweet green of the Gabba surface. Nine wickets down, ten overs to go - but the sun has sunk behind the enormous Gabba stands, and Umpire Billy Bowden is holding his light meter to the sky. The Australians in the crowd are dancing - if that is the term - at their lucky escape.

Cook flicks a switch on the back of the umpire's radio, and speaks.

"Delta Foxtrot, this is Alpha Charlie. Do you read me?"

But there is silence from the radio; perhaps just a little crackling. Cook frowns.

"Delta Foxtrot, I repeat, this is Alpha Charlie. Do you read me?"

More crackling. Then:

"Alpha Charlie, this is Delta Foxtrot. Reading you loud and clear...what are your instructions?"

Cook smiles.

"Delta Foxtrot. Please deliver the package to Auntie May. I repeat. Please deliver the package to Auntie May."

"Roger that, Alpha Charlie; see you in a minute."

A few seconds pass.  The ground is silent; then without warning, an air-raid siren sings its pitiful song in the Western section of the stand. Sensing something is amiss, row after row of Australian supporters evacuate the afflicted section.  And they are right to fear, for over the horizon comes an unmissable sight, preceded by unmistakable noise.

With its four engines drumming every one of its seventy years of distinguished history, the silhouette of the monstrous vehicle grows in sight as it roars over Brisbane, marching closer to the ground.  Just a moment before it reaches the ground, the giant Lancaster lets out two metallic droppings from its undercarriage.

As the Lancaster dips its wings and flies off, narrowly avoiding a mid-air collision with the Flying Doctors, the bombs strike the evacuated section of the stand. Two enormous explosions rip through the stand, bringing the structure crashing to the ground..

But after such destruction, a beautiful sight: for through the obliterated hole, where once stood the stand, the rose of the unobstructed sun can shines through on to the Gabba cricket pitch. The middle is bathed in sunlight once more.

"The light seems to have improved,  wouldn't you agree Mr Bowden?" asks Cook.

"Play" replies the Kiwi.