I had to pick something that I would both enjoy and have enough interest in to keep the adoring public enthralled. Baseball was an obvious answer: what could be better than sitting on a hot summer evening with a few beers shouting abuse at prima-donna millionaires? Okay, maybe chasing sheep around a field is towards the top of the list, but there’s probably not much else to challenge it. But there have been a million books about baseball, almost all of which are written by far more eloquent scribes than me. I needed an edge. I needed the ‘x-factor’. And as if by magic (there may have been some Guinness involved as well), the solution presented itself: why not use baseball as a flimsy cover for writing another book that deals with my REAL number one hobby - poking fun at people? Yessssssssssssss! And why fly all the way to the other side of the world to start the abuse when there are a quarter of a billion Americans in my back yard just asking for it.
So the plan was hatched. After deciding that further sullying of Anglo-American relations was in order, the baseball trip seemed a little superfluous. After all, what self-respecting Englishman couldn’t throw together several hundred pages worth of colonial leg-pulling? But I decided to drive around the place anyway – it was either that or get a job!