Staring at Jonny through his kitchen window is a worrying sight.
He is wearing only his pants.
He is watching the cricket.
He is chortling at the intense physical pain another human being is experiencing after being struck in the testicles with a very hard ball.
He is tuned to the Urdu channel.
I am acutely disturbed by the pants. The pants are, in themselves, disturbing. But, sporting as they are one Jonny Billericay, they are doubly so.
I am disturbed that he seems to be enjoying cricket. Surely only half-crazed lunatics actually enjoy cricket.
The fact he is taking pleasure in the torture of a fellow human should not come as a surprise. Yet disturbed I remain.
But most of all, I am disturbed by the apparent ease with which he is understanding the commentary. I had previously thought that Jonny had been radicalised after a Western upbringing. Now I may have to reassess this view - perhaps he was born and raised in the developing world, and has since contracted some kind of weird skin pigmentation disease, like Michael Jackson.
