a couple of beers, I didn't need a second invitation, so I picked this pad up and cuffed Clarke with it, making the biggest thud imaginable in the process, and causing everyone in the room to stop nattering. For a split second there was complete silence. 'What the f**k ya doing?' he snarled. Naturally, the temperature in the room had risen and the sensible thing to do was to cool it by cutting the night short and leaving. For once that winter, we did the sensible thing. It was not an episode I look back on with any pride but the theme of drowning our sorrows and seeking solace in beer was extended throughout the rest of the trip. It is fair to say that I was lacking direction both on and off the field at times. Although I considered that scene with Clarke to be something and nothing, there was one incident during the one-day triangular tournament that followed which makes me cringe with embarrassment and regret. It came on the eve of the series when, typical of the drinking culture that had developed, a few of us really went for it one night. Not any night, mind: a night 36 hours before a one-day international. Now we all make mistakes, and I've made my share during a 10-year international career, but this escapade in Melbourne broke all the rules. In a disciplined team you do not need curfews and clock-ins because common sense prevails and players self-police --