Flintoff is on

Warne, Ponting, my dead mother, my dead mother's ghost, my dead mother's non-existent ghost, my neighbour's dog, the Wags, the Beggars Union of India, the Dons of Bollywood, Hollywood and Sicily, The Don of australia, Gilly, Haydey, Hussey, every other Aussie who can be nicknamed with the inevitable 'ey', Mushy, who Mushy, doesn't matter who Mushy, the Pakistani Captain, the Pakistani Captain after the Pakistani Captain, the Pakistani Captain who doesn't want to be the Pakistani Captain, the Pakistani Captain who doesn't want to be the Pakistani Captain and wants to be the Pakistani Captain, the Pakistani Captain who wants the Pakistani Captain who is not the Pakistani Captain to be the Pakistani Captain, the Assistant to the Pakistani Captain, The driver of the Pakistani Captain, everyone else who calls the shots for the Pakistani Captain, the puppet Captain, the Pakistani Captain's Pakistani puppet, John Buchanan, people who do not approve of Buchanan, people who approve of Buchanan, a whole lot of people who still haven't been asked, but will most certainly be and all the people I have forgotten to mention before asking approve of Flintoff as Captain of England. The only people who aren't so sure are the English selectors. And, of course, Vaughan, who still harbours hopes of making a comeback for the Ashes Down Under as Captain. The question that remains to be asked is how fit is Flintoff to lead England?