Cricket is in the air. The England team have won the Ashes, beating Australia for the first time in a rather astounding 18 years. On Archway Road, the off-licences and pubs have offers on English champagne, their pavement blackboards and computer-printed sheets of A4 in the window bedecked with celebratory St George’s crosses.

Just as there was with rugby last year, I feel there’s a fair-weather fans’ trend, people only getting into a sport when their country’s team becomes capable of winning a major prize. Popularity, like success, has a snowballing effect. Fair enough – it’s the timeless urge to want to join in, to get into the party, to have a share of the zeitgeist fun, to belong, to not want to miss out.

My entire philosophy is based on resisting the rush to join in with whatever seems terribly popular at the time. In many sci-fi tales like Night Of The Comet (a great 80s b-movie, by the way) or Day Of The Triffids, most of the human race is left blinded, turned to dust or turned into zombies by taking part in some mass event like watching a comet. Those that miss out for whatever reason find themselves among a surviving minority, charged with continuing mankind – or not – on their own. It’s possible that I read a little too much into these silly stories.

Nevertheless, one must never be afraid to not join in. There’s no need to follow the cricket if you’re not that way inclined. Similarly, there’s no need to get married and have 2.4 children, or 2.4 cats, or 2.4 iPods, to watch a comet, to tune in for Lost, to wear trainers, to rush out and buy a few more Coldplay records just in case no one else does.

Relax. Other people WILL do all these unpleasant things for you. And they will INSIST! Look upon the rest of mankind as your unpaid stunt doubles.

What an incredible sentence to write. It’s nice to remind myself I am who I claim to be. If I woke up tomorrow and found myself to be Judi Dench, I wouldn’t know what to do. One for the Dickon Edwards section in future books of quotations.

Look upon the rest of mankind as your unpaid stunt doubles.

This default against-the-grain pose of mine is, of course, ridiculous, and I don’t always embrace it myself. Many popular things are actually rather good and should be tried at least once. And many unpopular or (as the euphemism goes) “cult” works remain unloved by the masses for a very good reason. But if you believe in Mr Robin Hood’s principle of redistribution of wealth, you must recognise that much of the modern world’s wealth is the Currency of Attention. When most heads seem turned in one particular direction, looking to one side can be no bad thing. Other experiences are available.

For my part, I have tried to get into cricket in the past. But like bisexuality and bungee-jumping, it’s not for everyone.

Fowler: Are you trying to be clever or something?
Judd: I don’t have to try. I am clever.

The above dialogue is from Another Country, the film that most springs to my mind whenever anyone mentions cricket. In one scene, schoolboy Rupert Everett umpires a match. He deliberately skews the proceedings in order to favour bowler Cary Elwes, with whom he is in floppy-fringed love.

Perhaps this year’s England team are just much better-looking than the previous 18 years’ lot.

I don’t know, I’m not looking in the same direction.