No left-arm spinner ever took a wicket in their life. For some reason, whenever a batsman gets out to one, it is always their own fault. Even the term ‘slow left-arm bowler’ feels vaguely derogatory, as if their only distinguishing feature is an intrinsic lack of verve.

And yet, with Rangana Herath, it feels like an entire appropriate description.

Everything about Herath screams slowness. The trundling run-up, the delicate loop, the ascent to greatness. Herath is the guy you get stuck behind for half an hour on the A421. Herath is the baggage carousel at Gatwick Airport. Herath is the Festival Place Shopping Centre in Basingstoke on a wet Tuesday morning.

If Herath ran a restaurant, you would have to wait until morning to get your food. But you would wait, all the same. Because it would be delicious.