You suspect Andrew Flintoff is loved more for being so obviously hammered during the 2005 post-Ashes bus parade than for his on-field heroics, or his even more heroic attempts to laugh at James Corden’s jokes on that dismal Sky panel show.
These days Fred has lost his edge, like a declawed bear taught to dance and quip by Morrisons’ electric cash-prods. This endlessly benign Buddha now craves cupcakes and the company of children more than the thrill of crashing a commandeered pedalo into the jubilee barge. It’s a poignant reminder of the buccaneering boozer who laid waste to Australians with his monstrous girth.
Awaken, beast, and unleash merry hell!