The posh water trade is, bizarrely, booming. When a parched friend hauled himself to a bar to ask for a water at the Lord’s Ashes Test, he was handed a jazzily-decorated can. “What’s this?”, he rasped. “It’s water! In a can!”, smiled the attendant. And so he, too, drank the squash-free Kool-Aid. “It was really disappointing,” he tells me. “The swish-click of the can triggered a sort of Pavlovian response to which I was expecting something fun. And it was just water.”