As an international Cricketer, I’ve got it pretty good, bowling, fielding, practicing, traveling the world, looking myself up on cricinfo.com, walking through airports with a big bags. It’s a great time.

But sometimes, you know, I reckon it’d be sweet to work in an office. Walking in, all “What’d you get up to at the weekend?”, “What about the Rugby?” and “I bet it’s raining in Wellington!” I mean, usually when I walk into the dressing room, I’m all “Who nailed my bat to the door? And my bloody undies?” Offices are awesome.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great life being a Cricketer, chewing gum and reading the paper and that, but I could really handle just, like, photocopying TPS reports and staring at the wall. I’d be into that. By myself. Just… thinking. Wicked!

I couldn’t imagine anyone in an office giving me shit about my name, either, people in offices would be all “Chris Martin? Yeah, I really love Coldplay, eh. I’ve got all their albums, do you want to come watch my ‘Viva La Vida La Birmingham’ Blu-Ray one night? I’ve got a massive, massive plasma. And a BMW.” That’d be wicked.

You just know where you stand in an office, everyone’s got a desk, a seat, work to do. I wouldn’t even mind being on a kitchen roster, I’d probably grumble a bit, but it’d be fine, really. There’s a whole DEPARTMENT to sort out your problems. The HR department. You could probably look yourself up on hrinfo.com. I’d love an HR department here, no more thrashing about blindly in the showers bawling “FIGHT YOU! FIGHT YOU ALL! COME ON!” Good times.

So yeah, count me in. Looking forward to that office. Coffee. Signing big cards and putting money in envelopes. Maybe a computer. A cake on your birthday! Probably have to buy it yourself, but still. Probably be heaps less bats chucked around in an office. Eh. That’d be sweet.