David Robbins: The day I lost the head with Anne Boleyn's father
There is a group of people living among us who are like the rest of the population, but not quite. Like the vampires in True Blood, or the zombies in 28 Days Later, they are outwardly human, yet there is something different, something other about them.
They are cricket club secretaries, a sort of sub-species of homo sapiens. If you can't identify them in the ordinary way (they're usually barking mad), you may look for an indentation on the forefinger and thumb caused by excessive pen work at this time of year.
I know all this because I am one of them. Yes, despite living an outwardly normal and respectable life in leafy Dublin 6, at this time of year I become one of those vampire/zombie/cricket creatures.