Kettle...pot...black

While we're on the subject of crimes against Beamerdom, J, here's the song I didn't perform at the cocktail party. To be sung to the tune of Jacques Brel's classic.

Ne Me Quitte Pas - A Plea to Mr Cave when he next goes to France

If you go away, for a 'oliday, down to Nice or Cannes, in your camper van,
For a week or two, when ze skies are blue, to escape ze stress, with Em, Olly et Jess.
If you go away, for a 'oliday, soak up lots of sun, have some Frenchy fun, but
Don't take ze kit, don't forget ze kit, don't forget ze kit, don't forget ze kit!

Hélas, c'est difficile, when ze kit's in Lille, you get some nasty knocks, batting wizout a box,
No pads for goodness' sake, ze Beamers' legs might break, you cannot 'it a six, when your bat's in Biarritz.
It's hard to play you see, when ze kit is in Paree. Ze stumps are eas'ly missed, when zey don't exist.
So don't forget ze kit, don't forget ze kit, don't forget ze kit, don't forget ze kit!

If you go away, even for one day, whezer near or far, in your Mini car,
Have a little look, in ze bloody boot, if you see a bag, zat's bright red wiz some black,
Wiz white stuff stickin' out, give someone a shout, it mustn't go away, in England it must stay.
Please don't take ze kit, please don't take ze kit, don't forget ze kit, don't forget ze kit!