Australia began the day as they had left off overnight. Head proceeded to 170 before hitting a catch to Crawley from the persevering Tongue. Thereafter events moved with ominous speed. Before lunch Australia found themselves all out for 349. Tongue, Carse, Stokes, and finally Archer harvested six fairly easy wickets. It was as though the Aussies had decreed that they had enough runs and may as well have a crack at England. Allan Border would have kept them out there for much of the day. The taciturn Captain Grumpy would have decreed much more pain, and a target of at least 500. But there: repeated disappointments had driven the iron deep into his flinty heart. Captain Pat seems made of more sanguine and exuberant stuff.

He began by prising out the hapless Duckett in his only over before the main break. If the definition of insanity is to keep on doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, then Ben Duckett stands accused. Wafting an optimistic diagonal bat well outside off-stump has not worked well for him thus far, and today was no different. Straight after lunch Cummins had the equally hapless Pope brilliantly caught by Labuschagne in the slips. But he saved his best delivery for Joe Root, who had stroked his way to an effortless 39. The Cummins leg-cutter struck again. Root had no need to play at it; unless he feared the off-cutter. As well he might, for a fast bowler who seams the ball both ways is a perilous antagonist.

The crisis came with Harry Brook. We have begun to suspect him of being a flat-track bully. Well here he was, finally batting on an excellent track, and doing as he pleased with the bowling. England had learned their lesson and decreed that in future batsmen would play themselves in before becoming expansive. This Brook did. He, Root, and Crawley had dealt harshly with Lyon, sweeping him (forward and reverse) with impunity. But on 30, with English hopes flickering into new life, he attempted a hopelessly optimistic reverse sweep to Lyon’s quicker, fizzing off-break. It took the leg stump. Brook stood there, bewildered, unable to comprehend what had happened. As Wilfred Rhodes once told a young Varsity man: ‘Tha’s missed it young man. Now p— off: we’ve a train to catch.’ Fortunately, these are more polite times.

Suddenly energised, Lyon steamed in to Stokes and bowled another of his dream balls. Stokes stood motionless, all too aware of what had happened. A 90 k delivery aimed at the stumps, swooping into the pads, and turning away to strike off-stump. There is not much Stokes could have done about it. Meanwhile there was Zak Crawley. Here is a man who has underachieved as an opener. A Test average of around 30 is rather under par. All too often he goes out too hard and throws his hand away. Not today. After 30 balls he had made a solitary single. Thereafter he appeared to discover that patience really is a virtue. As wickets tumbled around him he stood firm, defended when he needed to, and scoring freely when possible.

He made his way to a brilliant 85 before leaving his crease to drive at Lyon, who floated the ball up outside off. Alas for Crawley, it was Lyon’s arm-ball, which sailed impudently past his bat and into Carey’s waiting gloves. The day ended with Jacks and Smith defending desperately against Lyon and Head. At 6/207 you could get odds of a hundred to one on an English victory. The target is 435. Tonight it seems as far afield as the Hindu Kush.

The words of the ancient sea shanty were peculiarly appropriate today. Travis Head and Alex Carey are Croweaters born and bred, and during the evening session they all but snuffed out England’s dying hopes. Which was a thousand pities, since the day began with the redoubtable Stokes and Archer continuing to resist. The ninth wicket stand of 106 in 30 overs demonstrated with stark clarity that the pitch was still at its best, and those prepared to fight it out could survive and prosper. It took Starc’s best ball to crash through Stokes’ defences. His 83 had occupied five hours of watchful defence, and judicious strokeplay. Boland removed Archer for an excellent 51. By this time Australia’s lead had shrunk to less than a hundred.

When Wetherald declined the opportunity to challenge his dubious leg before decision the home team were on the back foot. Labuschagne was not himself, finding that Josh Tongue’s fast in-cutters were squaring him up. He must fix this defect in his technique if he wishes to keep his spot, and it was no surprise when he edged behind. As did Khawaja, though in the languid Queenslander’s defence he had made a sumptuous 40. Usman makes batting look so easy. Green was abominably thoughtless for the second time and edged Tongue to Brook. With Australia at 4/149 England were still in the game.

Head and Carey soon put paid to that. Batting looked suddenly the simple proposition it was. England sprayed the ball around; their spin attack was helpless, and the two local men delighted the immense crowd with their succulent strokeplay. Head’s only blemish was when on 99 he edged a low catch to Brook, who grassed it. After lofting Jacks over his head he raised his bat for his second hundred of the series. Perhaps opening really is his metier after all. And Carey was every bit as impressive. By stumps the home side had reached 4/271. England still may entertain faint hopes; but the horizon suddenly looks a long way distant.

And Stokes did not bowl at all? Give the man a break. He had been cramping horribly during his marathon innings. Despite some dubious captaincy – massively exacerbated by his bowlers’ inability to maintain a decent line and length – he has carried this team on his mighty shoulders with bat, ball, and in the field. He deserves far more help than he has received. One would imagine he will front up tomorrow, with the old ball, and bend his back once more.

Any hopes that England might have entertained about wrapping up the innings quickly soon evaporated. Starc and Lyon weren’t going anywhere. Worse, while Lyon defended stoutly at one end, Starc indulged himself with his favourite plan on true wickets: standing outside leg and hitting considered shots through the off-side. By the time he was castled by the persevering Archer he had reached a meritorious 54. Even then Australia weren’t done. Boland struck three more boundaries before Archer trapped Lyon in front for 9. He had batted for an hour and made a crucial contribution. Australia’s 371 was more than anyone had bargained for. Of the bowlers, Archer’s 5/53 was an excellent effort. Stung by earlier criticisms, he kept up a good pace and attacked intelligently. Had his captain set a third man earlier, his figures would have been tighter. The rest were rather below par.

The stern resistance of the tail meant that the home side only had to bowl 14 overs before lunch. And what a drama unfolded therein. For once Starc went wicketless, and Duckett helped himself to a few boundaries. Crawley on the other hand succumbed to a Cummins special: late seam movement just enough to take the edge behind. The early arrival of Lyon at the bowling crease showed just what might be achieved on an apparently docile track. First he induced a loose waft off his pads from the hapless Pope, who was well caught by Inglis. Then Duckett, whose run-a-ball 29 had looked impressive, found himself castled by an off-spinner’s dream delivery. Round the wicket, no air to speak of, pitching on a fullish length and straightening enough to hit the off stump. He departed, apparently bewildered. But Lyon has been champing at the bit all series, waiting for his moment. Two wickets in his first over? It was well worth the wait.

It was left to the two Yorkshiremen Root and Brook to play out until lunch. Root was very lucky to survive a caught behind decision off Boland. It looked awfully out, but DRS said otherwise. Perhaps it was payback for Carey yesterday, who had feathered behind in the seventies and been inexplicably reprieved. With Australia now well in front, England will be made to fight.

The afternoon session was, for England’s army of Barmies, a thoroughly depressing experience. The plan seemed to be to wait for the rubbish balls and punish them. Australia’s bowlers’ response was Good Luck With That because there won’t be any. It was a tight, disciplined attack from Australia on a pitch which had flattened out into an autobahn. Boland led the way. His pitch map showed metronomic accuracy, pitching the ball from various places on the bowling crease into the shoebox. We will give you nothing to hit. Want to try your luck with shots that aren’t there? Fee free.

Only late in the day did Stokes and Archer show what was required. The latter really ought to be batting no lower than no.7. He showed not only skill, talent, and temperament. He also demonstrated the patience in which the allged batsmen were found wanting. With England’s hopes hanging by a thread, it was down to two lion-hearted seam bowlers to show what was indeed possible.

Adelaide is a frightful tease. In the days of Les Burdett you won the toss, made five or six hundred, and settled down to attempt to prise out the enemy. It might turn on day five, or it might not. These days it is a different kettle of ballgame. With baking heat forecast, a goodly carpet of grass was allowed to bloom. There would be something in it before lunch for the bowlers. Australia won the toss, and England served up a curious bouquet of doubtful offerings. Archer bent his back and bowled fast, though too short. Carse bowled an appalling selection of chaff, duly punished by Wetherald. Was there any method in the madness? Perhaps there was. Wetherald crouches awfully low in his crease, which can affect his ability to play cross-bat strokes. Twice he missed Carse’s long hops. Then Archer bowled short and fast to him; he got himself into a horrible tangle and presented Smith with the simplest of catches.

Thereupon it finally dawned on Carse that maybe he should pitch the ball up to Head. Immediately Head did not quite keep the ball down enough, and Crawley took a fine catch low down. At 2/33 the home side found themselves in crisis. Brisbane notwithstanding, it is becoming apparent that Head is not a Test opener, and needs to return to number five. Josh Tongue at first change bowled fast and accurately. He always does. He induced a wayward flail outside off from Khawaja. The ball flew to Brook at second slip, who grassed it. Khawaja is only playing at all because Smith was ruled out with vertigo. But with the pitch visibly dying already, the imperturbable Usman must have breathed a small sigh of relief, and set about the bowling.

He took his time to get going – as he invariably does – but by lunch he had reached 41 off 55. He and Labuschagne added 61 in brisk time, and at lunch Australia was 2/94. Two overs from Jacks cost 17 as the Aussies helped themselves to his cafeteria offerings. The ugly truth is that Root is a better off-spinner than he is, and Jacks is only really playing to bolster the batting: itself a timid response to some irresponsible swiping in the first two matches. And yet. Just before lunch Jacks did turn one away on a good length. Khawaja was only saved by his soft hands, as the ball fell just short of slip. Nathan Lyon will have taken due note.

The afternoon session began in farce, with both Labuschagne and Green presenting Archer with gift-wrapped early Christmas presents. Two warm-up balls at well below top pace, both meekly spooned to Carse at catching mid-wicket. Carey began as is his wont, and cut a firmly-cut boundary; and he and the sanguine Khawaja attempted to wrest back control of the match. Carse bowled better after lunch, but Tongue lost his line and length and had to be replaced. Then came a long spell in which Stokes toiled away at one end while Jacks haemorrhaged runs at the other. Inexplicably Khawaja essayed a lofted sweep and presented an outfield catch when a century was his for the asking. Nevertheless his 82 had been a godsend to the home side, who had been well and truly caught napping.

The final session was one of frustration for the home side. Inglis came and went with a brisk 32 before failing to note that Tongue’s seam movement is dictated by his extraordinary action (somewhat reminiscent of Max Walker’s tangle of arms and legs) and he will jag the ball back. Captain Pat failed to keep Carse’s in-cutter down and was brilliantly taken by Pope. Even Carey may regret his rush of blood, deceived by Jacks’ slower ball and hitting straight up into the air. Nevertheless his industrious century was magnificent. Only the stalwart Starc stayed at his post, helped in the gloaming by a strokeless Lyon. The decision to drop anchor was sound, inasmuch as the fall of a ninth wicket would trigger an extra half-hour. Australia really wants to bat tomorrow. And they will.

The day was narrowly England’s. They persisted against the odds and watched Australia’s batsmen get in, and get themselves out. Archer? 16/5/29/3 flattered him only a little. He was a constant menace, and the home side wisely decided to see him off. The other seamers were exceedingly curate’s egg: good in parts, and horrible elsewhere. Jacks? Twenty overs for 2/106 was testament only to his persistence. He never gave up, and got a little belated reward. The curious incident of the dog in the night-time was the complete absence of Root from the bowling crease. He has dismissed Carey four times in Tests. Yet Stokes persisted with Jacks. And Bashir? England’s premier spinner must wonder why he is even on this tour.

Any evanescent thoughts of an innings victory soon melted in the fierce sunlight. Stokes and Jacks had come to fight it out, and before the break defied seven bowlers. The closest Australia came to breaking the partnership was a spitting cobra from Boland which took the edge of Stokes’ bat and flew agonisingly just above Green’s Go Gadget arms in the cordon. Aside from that the largely somnolent pitch, and Nathan Lyon’s impassive stare in the pavilion, told their contrasting tales. England drifted into the lead, and eventually Labuschagne tried an over of liquorice allsorts. All to no avail. Stokes was going to bat, and bat, and bat; and see if Australia’s bowlers could be worn down. In that event, after dark his plan would be to go berserk and attempt to conjure an impossible victory.

In the afternoon shadows Head dropped a hot chance from Jacks at short leg: a place where they either stick or they don’t. This one didn’t. Stokes reached a sedate fifty, and Australia sought inspiration. They found it when Neser induced a sharp edge from Jacks, taken just off the grass by Smith’s bootlaces. A miraculous catch for anyone else. Probably routine for him. He has well over 200 Test catches. This was one of the better ones. The longed-for incision then came when Stokes edged Neser behind to Carey, who was standing up to the stumps and treating the bearded Queenslander like a medium-fast spinner. Then Atkinson pulled Doggett straight to mid-wicket. This time Smith did not have to bend, and he tossed it away with a grin. Back at a fine slip to the energetic Neser, he pouched another to dismiss Carse and it was all over. 65 to win, and no-one imagined that Head and Wetherald would be dawdling on the way to the finish line.

Nor did they. In the five overs before the break half the runs were peeled off. Archer sent down a few thunderbolts, and Head hoicked Atkinson all over the greensward. No-one knows why the dinner-break was taken. Common sense might have suggested that a break after five overs was surplus to requirements. Perchance it was a contractual obligation to the caterers. After the break Atkinson bowled beautifully, inducing a play-on from Head and a snorting lifter outside off to remove Labuschagne. All too late, alas. We don’t know what was in the refreshments served, but Smith came out in his black war-paint breathing fire and brimstone. Beaten by an Archer fireball, he suggested that the man try bowling faster. Archer obliged, and was whacked for a four and a six over fine leg.

For a dreadful moment lightning crackled between the two men. Then Archer smiled and turned away, realising that he had been deceived; and the moment passed. Smith finished the match with another six, and embraced his colleague, having scored an unbeaten 23 from nine balls. It was another eight-wicket victory. At least England put up a better fight this time. But it is apparent that their laid-back preparation has betrayed them. In Adelaide Captain Pat will return, and Lyon, and possibly also Hazlewood. With the series all but gone, England has some soul-searching to do. Josh Tongue must be given his chance. Probably also Bashir. Jacks might keep his place instead of Pope. Or else Jacob Bethel: a better-credentialled number three. They have been comprehensively outplayed by a weakened eleven. Stokes cannot do it all by himself. And his captaincy left a great deal to be desired.

There was a curiously tentative attitude from England this afternoon. Matters began well for them when Neser wafted outside off and was caught behind. It was a poor stroke unworthy of a capable batsman. Carey and Starc survived until the new ball; but Atkinson received a belated reward when Carey also flashed outside off. At eight down the end appeared to be nigh. And yet. We all sensed that something different was in the air. When Mitchell Starc plays with an upright front elbow he means business. The Australian plan was self-evident. Keep them out in the broiling sunshine for as long as we possibly can. We want to be bowling with a shiny hard new ball tonight. Preferably not with a soggy tomato. Stasis suits us just fine. The longer we keep you out here the happier we shall be.

The curious incident was that England seemed to be in no hurry to wrap up the innings. Carey was happy to take every run on offer, trusting in Starc to survive anything cast at him. When Boland came out at number ten Starc began to farm the strike. And once Starc reached twenty-odd the field went out to the boundaries. Starc gave his customary saturnine smile and applied himself to the team plan. Boland’s adhesive nature is well-known locally. Like Australia’s last First Nations seamer Jason Gillespie, Boland loves being the nightwatchman. Given free range to block as much as he pleases, he did just that. Eventually he even played a shot or two. And little by little, Starc allowed him to take more of the bowling.

England’s plan appeared to be that of Vladimir and Estragon. They were waiting for some extraneous happening which might give meaning to their endless struggle. Yes, Neser and Carey had got themselves out. What to do when neither of the incumbents show the slightest sign of batting suicide? There did not appear to be a Plan B. England largely wasted the second new ball, either over-pitching, or under. Every now and then a delivery would come along pitched on a perfect length, seaming either way, at a good pace, and beating the bat with ease. And spectators might well applaud and say Great bowling mate! Why don’t you do it more often?

For 27 overs numbers nine and ten defied everything thrown at them. Yes, Starc has exceptional talent as a lower-order bat. Boland has great endurance and spirit. But there was no urgency. A spread field often merely encourages the batting side. So you don’t want to get us out? Well OK then. We’ll settle in for the summer. Their stand was worth 75 before Starc finally lost patience. Like many a bowler before him, reaching seventy-odd not out has the same effect as high-altitude mountaineering. By the time Doggett succumbed to Jacks Australia had reached 511. It was a notable scorecard, in which all eleven players reached double figures. Yet Starc’s 77 was the top score.

A bare six overs remained until the dinner break. Crawley and Duckett made the most of them, clubbing 45 useful runs. Thereafter, as the shades of evening fell, so too did the English batting. Neser picked up both Crawley and Pope caught-and-bowled. England has not yet fathomed his subtle changes of pace. Boland began to seam the ball around off a fullish length, and despatched both Duckett and Brook. The latter’s dismissal was an awful lapse in judgement. Surely some coach back in Yorkshire must have told him that playing either forward or back was desirable. Being caught on the crease is asking for trouble.

And Starc? His opening salvo was erratic, as one might have expected from a man who’d batted two-and-a-half hours in the baking sun. After a short refresh he was back to his menacing and ebullient best, and had both Root and Smith caught behind by Carey. England will resume tomorrow with six wickets down, and still with 43 runs to make the home side bat again. Stokes has pulled off many a miracle in his time. If he can get England out of this one, it will be the greatest escape since Harry Houdini.

England’s innings wrapped up early. Nevertheless, that tenth-wicket stand of 70 showed three things. One: when he applies himself, Joe Root is a master batsman. Australia never even looked like getting him out. Two: Jofra Archer has rare talent for a number 11. He has underachieved thus far with the bat in his chequered life, but the all-rounder’s mantle was always a possibility. His 38 was a fine knock. And three: this is a largely docile wicket. Yes, there are cracks. The odd ball flies off a length. But the pink ball gets soft quickly, and it might be a long day in the sun for England.

Contrary to all expectations, Head and Wetherald began with three maidens. Thereafter they began to open out. Truth to tell, Head was not himself. It may be that opening is not his best place after all. He was dropped on three: a high catch which Smith muffed, and first slip was unable to drag in. When Carse held one back a trifle Head whacked it skyward for the easiest of catches. Nevertheless his 33, from an opening stand of 77, was a decent effort.

But the star of the afternoon was Wetherald. His stance at the crease makes it appear he is understudying Charles Laughton in The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Yet this is not necessarily a design flaw. Was not Gilbert Jessop known as The Croucher? He, Head, and Labuschagne made hay while the sun shone. At the tea-break the score was 1/130. From 21 overs, if you please. Bazball? Not in the least. The awful truth is that, Archer aside, the bowlers sprayed the ball everywhere and were pitilessly punished. Hi-tech bats, shorter boundaries, and venturesome batting have transformed Test cricket. Why: yesterday Rachin Ravindra made a run-a-ball 176 at Hagley Oval. As a knowledgeable spectator once remarked at Bridgetown: If you short or full today, you going to get paint.’ England were both, and paint, or a version thereof, they got.

After the break England tidied up their line and length to an extent, although Carse was still bleeding runs at a terrifying rate. Stokes’ damage report was barely better. Archer’s second spell was exemplary, if down a little in pace. There was nothing whatever wrong with the swinging yorker which pinned Wetherald in front for an excellent 72. Smith emerged, endlessly fidgeting as is his wont, and managing to appear to be in diabolical trouble without ever in fact being so. Labuschagne continued to hit the ball high, wide and handsome until he fanned at a wide one from Stokes and nicked behind. Green came out and played punishingly through the off whenever England overpitched. By the adjournment the home side was was 3/228, with still a great deal of work to do. For the third time in the match a session produced 2/98, which you would generally classify as a tied contest. Someone will have to go on with it.

With the shades of evening descending the much-dreaded night-time session began. Australia would have been happy to have two set batsmen in the 20s. But Stokes was in something of a dilemma. His spearhead Archer had already bowled twelve overs. He would need to be held back for later. Stokes himself had bowled eleven. The initial assault would have to come from the frugal Atkinson. And Jacks? His single over had cost thirteen. Yet he was picked at least partly for his bowling, and would surely have to be entrusted with a few more overs.

As it happened, Stokes went with Archer first up. And again later on. For someone whose match fitness has been so often questioned, Jofra strove with might and main for twenty overs in the heat and humidity. England could have asked no more of him. Yet Green and Smith did as they pleased, putting on 91 in 19 overs without unduly exerting themselves. Then Stokes threw the ball to Carse and told him to bowl Bodyline with deep catchers out. His first over cost 17 runs. Yet Green outsmarted himself by backing well away from the stumps to a fast yorker. Bodyline bowling is the last word in ugly cricket. Yet as long as it keeps working England will keep trying it on. Immediately Smith glanced in the air whereupon Jacks took a fine diving catch. Suddenly Carse had three wickets. His figures at stumps read 17/1/113/3. Readers may decide for themselves whether this constitutes success or otherwise.

Inglis went on with the job, coming in unfashionably late at No.7. He made a brisk 23 and lost his stumps to Stokes. Wth the home side six down England was storming back into the contest. Yet their four-man pace attack was all but exhausted. So were the fielders. Four of the five catches that went down were late in the day. Some were easy, some very difficult. Fatigue, and difficulty picking up the pink ball in the gloom, doubtless played their part. And England were faced with Carey at his most belligerent, and Michael Neser in front of his home crowd. They put on 49 at a fast clip, and are still together at stumps. Australia’s lead is 44. They will want a good deal more yet. The pitch is a little up-and-down already. By and large, it was Australia’s day.

More than any other arena on earth, The Gabba is where illusions are pitilessly exposed. Michael Kasprowicz was once asked, after a two-day Shield victory, how much he enjoyed bowling there. You think it’s easy? he asked, with mounting incredulity. The pitch is fast and true, with minimal seam movement. If you can’t really play, then it is here that you will be found out. Australia made what seemed to be a strategic error in team selection, once it became clear that the captain was not quite ready and ought not to be risked as yet. And so they picked an all-seam attack. It is far from clear that five seamers can do what four cannot. Michael Neser was chosen, on grounds of local knowledge. This was more or less justified when he picked up Crawley to an awful off-side hoick. For the most part Neser bowled with Carey up to the stumps, at a brisk fast-medium. This was probably not what England expected. And they did not seem unduly fussed about it either.

Brendan Doggett was also selected, having taken five wickets in Perth, and was therefore deemed too valuable to be omitted. Yet his bowling offered nothing of substance on this pitch. Neither did Green, although he was as ever chosen primarily for his batting. Yet this meant that Lyon was squeezed out. The justification was obvious. If youse blokes are only going to bat for thirty-something overs we may as well not pick a spinner at all. And yet. What if England decides to bat properly? Where will you be then? In the event, many of the visiting batsmen did just that. Crawley – coming off a pair as he was – batted with verve and panache, looking for runs at every opportunity. By the time he essayed his suicidal swipe at Neser he had reached a brilliant 76. He may be forgiven this indiscretion, having dug his side out of a substantial crevasse caused by the genius of Mitchell Starc, who today went past the mercurial Akram as the highest wicket-taker among left-arm quicks.

Starc began as he left off in Perth. Surely no bowler – not even the sublime SF Barnes – has ever struck more often in the opening over of a Test match. No blame whatever attaches to Ben Duckett, whose golden duck was nothing more than the result of a perfect delivery to a left-handed opener. He had to play it, and it swung away late and took the edge to Labuschagne. Ollie Pope by contrast was very much to blame for wafting outside off with a diagonal bat and playing on. With England at 2/5 a subdued Root marched to the middle. This time it was a very different Joe Root. He eschewed the diagonal bat and quietly accumulated runs as only he knows how. Those 13,000 Test runs were no accident. By lunch, with England on 2/98, the visitors were on top.

After Crawley’s departure Brook made his usual breathless entrance. This writer opines that Harry Brook is a batsman of erratic genius. But if he wants to go down in history as a flat-track bully then he’s going the right way about it. Not long ago he made a triple hundred in Pakistan. I saw some of it while on holiday. He has every stroke in the book and quite a few that aren’t. After a run-a-ball 31 he wafted at Starc’s away-cutter and was caught in the cordon. This was not what his team wanted or needed, and his fellow Yorkshireman at the other end must have given a rueful sigh. The breathless run-rate slowed to a crawl. Ben Stokes takes his cricket seriously, and played himself in with care until he set off for an incautious run and was thrown out by Inglis’ matchless athleticism. Jamie Smith came and went in the evening dew when Boland moved one in off the seam and scattered his stumps.

Will Jacks came out at number 8, being the replacement for Wood, whose fetlock failed to come up in time. It was a timid selection. Jacks is a useful off-spinner, though not anywhere near Bashir’s class. He will find bowling hereabouts a severe trial. Yet he is a proper batsman; and he settled in to try to give Root the support he needed. He made his way to 19 against Green and Doggett before Smith decreed that the time for more Starc was at hand. As so many have done before him, Jacks wafted well outside off-stump and nicked behind. Root, on 98, would have been unamused. Yet his well-earned hundred came up with a leg-side boundary. The Barmy Army went berserk, as well they might.

Thereafter things began to move with alacrity. Atkinson skied Starc over the keeper’s head. Both Carey and Labuschagne sprinted after it, each oblivious to the other. A fearful collision seemed imminent. Surely the ball was out of reach? And yet two things feared and hoped for both occurred. The two Australians crashed into each other; but Carey pouched the ball anyway for Starc’s fifth wicket. Carey once turned out for the GWS Giants in Australian football. Their loss was Australia’s gain. I doubt he ever took a mark under such torrid circumstances. Then Carse, who really ought to have known better, wafted well outside his off-stump and the now-weary Starc had six wickets.

Yet full oft the tail of the scorpion is deadly to behold. Archer began to throw the bat around; and Smith, sensing a declaration, pushed the field well back. Delighted with this decision Archer and Root swung hard and often. By the end of play they batted with circumspection. Despite this the last-wicket stand had reached 66 from seven and a bit overs. By stumps England was 9/325, and could feel well satisfied with their day’s work. Tomorrow is another day. Going by what we saw from the old ball – Starc’s unearthly genius excepted – they may well struggle with the pink ball. A sobering thought for England is that their best swing bowler is about to turn out for the Sydney Thunder. Reece Topley would have been a handy inclusion here. Inexplicably he appears to have been banished from their thoughts.

Like most cricket fans, I assumed that Day 2 would see a general quietening. The pitch would settle down; batsmen would play more carefully, and what passes for normality in the modern game would re-establish itself. And before lunch that is exactly what happened. Lyon and Doggett defended capably without ever suggesting a big partnership. Eventually the last wicket fell, and England’s second innings got underway. As usual (!) Starc excelled himself in his opening over and removed Crawley for a pair. It was a caught-and-bowled: off-balance, with no warning whatsoever; but somehow Starc tumbled to one side away from his trajectory and hauled the ball in. When he finally retires from cricket, perhaps Circus Oz might wish to grant him an audition.

But thereafter Duckett and Pope played within themselves until lunch time. What unfolded in the afternoon session made yesterday’s riotousness seem almost tame. The primary incision was made by the redoubtable Boland. He had endured the torments of the damned on Day 1. His opening three-over spell had cost 15 in this innings. What to do? Why not bowl seventh-stump line and make the ball seam a little either way? Surely that will bring control to the innings. He can scarcely have expected the flower of England’s batting to go chasing the ball well outside off; but that is exactly what they did. In no time at all he had three wickets for nothing much. The ever-alert Smith brought back Starc as soon as the fun began, and he removed Root and Stokes to loose strokes from both. Root will be mortified by the video repeat of his dismissal. A man with 13,000 Test runs should not be waving an angled bat outside off to Mitchell Starc. The ball cannoned off the inside edge and took the stumps.

Smith kept shuffling his seamers. Doggett got into the act with a couple. And with England seven down for nothing much, it was time for the lower order to do something. Atkinson and Carse are capable batsmen, especially the former. In less than six overs they put on fifty. Here at least the despised Bazball made sense. With the innings in ruins, counterattack was the best and indeed only viable strategy. Having gone so far they might well have reined themselves in and cashed in for a long innings. But as with yesterday England’s plan seemed to be to get the home side in as quick as possible. When an early tea was taken, Australia need 205 to win the match. It will be the highest innings score so far. But it should be possible.

And it was. An injury to Khawaja caused Travis Head to put up his hand to open. The first few overs were tight enough. Thereafter it was a brutal massacre. Even by Head’s eccentric standards this was something well out of the ordinary. His 123 occupied just 83 deliveries. Bazball? Nope. He bats as did Lord Botham: block the good ones; whack the bad ones. He began with circumspection, but soon opened out into a riotous flower of fours and sixes. England lost their heads entirely. The pitch map tells its own guilty story. They sprayed the ball everywhere: especially short. There is a theory that Head is vulnerable to short balls on his body. That’s as maybe, but possibly Perth’s even, predictable bounce is not the place to try it out. By the close Head was smashing forehand volleys more suitable to Wimbledon’s centre court.

The supporting cast did their job. By the time Wetherald was out to Carse the opening stand had produced 75. In the 12th over. Labuschagne joined the South Australian and the pair hopped into as dismal a collection of half-volleys and poorly-conceived short deliveries as was ever seen in a Test match. He eventually fell to Carse, and Labuschagne finished things off, though acting skipper Smith was left to hit the winning run. After three innings more redolent of T20 cricket than Test matches, Australia ran up 2/205 in a tick over twenty-eight overs.

The fault, as the sages of the commentary box pointed out, lies with the batting. The bowlers get no rest when all 20 wickets fall in 68 overs. Trying to whack the good balls repeatedly generally leads to disaster when the fielding side keep their heads. A two-day Test match? One doubts the Authorities will mind overmuch. It was an adrenaline-filled spectacle seen by a combined hundred thousand spectators. And most would have gone home happy and exalted. The Barmy Army not so much. And so on to Brisbane.

Only 72 overs were bowled yesterday in 390 minutes. And yet the spectators could be said to have got their money’s worth, with 19 wickets and almost 300 runs. It was amphetamine-laced fare to be sure. And yet the obloquy heaped on the batsmen was largely undeserved. The bowling was mostly magnificent, and batting was an excruciating business. None could survive for long, and neither did they. A deal of nonsense had been uttered beforehand. England will bowl Bodyline? There was hardly a bouncer bowled all day. As the Windies in their pomp had shown, you don’t need more than chin music as a fleeting reminder. The ball that flies off a length is far more perilous.

Another delusional comment from The Sages was that having won the toss Stokes would choose to bowl  with his five-man pace attack. The pride of county Durham knew better. We do not know how this pitch will play. If it turns out docile, then we will bat first and make 400 plus. If it is sprightly – as it transpired, it really was – then we will have a thrash, get a few, and put them in early. England batted and lost Crawley in Starc’s first over. It was an over for the ages. Starc at 35 is in the form of his life. Nobody likes facing left-arm pace. And everyone knows about his roaring inswinging yorkers. Yet the ball did not swing much for anyone. There was just enough seam movement to take the ball from the middle to the edge. His 7/58 was a magnificent piece of bowling, even though there had been contributory negligence from his adversaries.

For the rest of the attack, little remains to be said. Boland’s day began and ended in a hideous nightmare. This most metronomic of bowlers lost his line and length, and was hammered all over the park in runs the home side could ill afford. Brendan Doggett by contrast was lively and menacing, and was rewarded with a pair of wickets. Green’s single over went for ten runs, but he picked up Ollie Pope. Lyon bowled just two overs. When England were bowled out in 33 overs, the howls of derision could be heard as far afield as Fremantle. Yet there was method in their madness. England batted as though it was white ball cricket. Brook’s 52 was the day’s top score. Pope’s 46 and Smith’s 33 were useful contributions. None looked as though they were there for the long haul. Given that Australia caught practically everything, they were not.

As it happened, England’s 172 looks like a good score now. Jake Weatherald collapsed over himself and was trapped leg before by Archer on his second ball. Weatherald is the form opener in the Sheffield Shield, but this was verily a baptism by fire on the big stage. Archer, Wood and Carse are fast bowlers. Atkinson and Stokes are medium-fast. All bowled superbly, and there was to be no respite anywhere, or at any time. To add to Australia’s discombobulation, Khawaja was caught napping off the field and was unable to open, so Labuschagne was forced to go in first in his place. He and Smith decided to ride out the storm. Between them they faced 15 overs for 26 runs. Both succumbed anyway. With Australia reeling at 4/31 Head and Green decided that the English approach had been correct after all.

Their stand of 45 off 71 was restrained enough, but it reflected the underlying truth that sooner or later there will be a delivery with your name on it, so make hay while you can. Carey made a run-a-ball 26 in his customary fashion. But the destroyer of the evening session was the visiting captain himself. Stokes has bowled just six overs. He has 5/23. Poor batting, brilliant bowling. Nobody seems to be able to explain adequately Stokes’ genius for picking up wickets. He has 230 of them in Tests, so it cannot be a fluke. What he does is go hell-for-leather at the stumps. If he gets hit for four it doesn’t worry him. It is the all-rounder’s privilege. He varies everything: his pace, angle of delivery, seam movement, even swing if there is any. Australia’s tail had no answers.

Australia resumes today on a piteous 9/123. And nobody knows what will happen. If the pitch remains capricious, it could be all over by stumps. If it flattens out, then batting will get easier, and a fourth-innings mammoth chase is a viable prospect. Or possibly the old WACA menace of opening crevasses might manifest, though that has not been seen for many a year. But honours on Day One are firmly with England. They came with a plan and executed it to the letter. A sobering thought for Australia is that yes, Archer and/or Wood might indeed break down and strain a fetlock. Waiting in the wings is Josh Tongue: England’s leading wicket-taker in the recent series against India. It will be a summer of scorching pace. More later….