by SHANE WARNE

Sledging can be an effective cricketing weapon, but I feared I had gone too far when one of my victims burst into the Australian dressing room brandishing an AK- 47 and demanding revenge.

The South Africans play the game hard and nobody more so than Brian McMillan. He could be an intimidating figure if you showed any sign of weakness. During our home Test series against South Africa after they were re-admitted to international cricket, McMillan and Peter Kirsten were involved in a run-out mix-up that left McMillan back at the end where he started.

I said: 'Looks like you don't fancy it very much, Depardieu (he resembles the French actor).' He replied: 'Listen, a lot of people go missing every day in South Africa and one more won't be noticed.' Later, he threatened to use me for bait when he went shark fishing.

I thought nothing of it all - until we went to South Africa. It was lunch in Johannesburg and we were just starting to tuck in when McMillan stormed in wielding the gun, which he had borrowed from a policeman outside, shouting: 'Right, I've had enough of you Australians.'

It was scary for a second or two, then we all laughed. We have shared a few beers and got to know him over the years. He is a character; the game needs them.

For some reason, Australia have acquired the reputation of being the world's worst sledgers, but I think New Zealand should hold the title. I don't know whether they reserve it for us because of geographical rivalry, but sometimes it is like being in an aviary full of twittering birds.

Compared with the Australian side I joined in the early Nineties, the team of today is relatively quiet, even with Glenn McGrath in our ranks. I know when I hear him shouting: 'I'm going to hit you on the head, buddy', he is doing it out of frustration, but it does put doubt in the batsman's mind.

Merv Hughes led the way. He once claimed that a quarter of his wickets were down to sledging. With his stare, sweat and handlebar moustache he did have a certain aura. With a face like that he didn't really need words.

But part of the trick of sledging is recognising who might be vulnerable and who is best left alone. Although Allan Border used to be quick to let opponents know what he thought of them, it was not wise to try sledging in return. It simply made him more determined.

Some days he would say to a passing fielder: 'What are you looking at?' just to provoke a response.

Border taught me the usefulness of sledging in raising my own game. If things were not happening for me, he suggested that it was probably worth having a word with the batsman - not for the sake of having a go, but to switch myself on for the contest.

During the South Africans' tour of Australia in 1997-98, Daryll Cullinan revealed in a newspaper that he had seen a psychiatrist to help him overcome Shane Warne and the Aussies. I couldn't believe it. I knew Daryll was a bit fragile at times, but never imagined he would go to a shrink to learn how to read a googly.

When he walked out to bat, I let him take guard before saying: 'Daryll, I've waited so long for this moment and I'm going to send you straight back to that leather couch.' I bowled him for a duck and he didn't take any further part in the Test series.

England have generally begun a series against us with plenty to say for themselves. The problem is that if you start sledging without being able to back up your words, it loses effect. But they can be susceptible.

During the first one-day final at Sydney in 1999, England needed fewer than 50 to win with six wickets in hand, 10 overs left and Nasser Hussain going well. As he has a reputation for being fiery, I decided the only way we could win was to tempt him into doing something silly.

At that stage he was not a regular in the one-day side, so I said things like: 'This is where it's crucial not to get out, Nass' and 'Don't let your team down, mate.'

When he ran down the pitch and hit me over the top, I clapped him and said: 'Great stuff, Nass, that's the way to do it.'

At the end of the over his face was red and you could almost see steam coming out of his ears. I knew then the ploy might work. Lo and behold, in the next over he was stumped three yards out of his ground.

We ended up winning the game. Later, England's Alan Mullally told me the guys in the dressing room could see what was happening and were praying Nasser would not start answering back.