~~ That's not cricket! ~~

Surely you have heard about England's great cricketing 
family, Fotheringbushes. Bats were handed from father 
to son and the refinements of the game were drilled 
into the young men of the family from the age of six. 
While most of them observed the decorum of the genteel 
game, one scion, Herbert, had an unruly temper and to 
his family's shame insisted on disputing the calls made 
by the arbiters of the game.
  
In one particularly close match, Herbert's temper 
reached such a peak that he rushed to the man in charge
of the game, pummelled him, knocked him to the ground 
and sat on the squirming squire.  Fotheringbush Senior, 
aghast at his progeny's behavior, rushed from the 
clubhouse onto the field and pulled the lad off.
  
"Surely, my boy," he admonished sternly, "you above all 
others should know that the son never sits on the British 
umpire!" 
 
 
By Bennett Cerf