Miles Jupp gazes across the vacant expanse of The Oval. “This is absolutely one of my favourite places in the world,” the actor, writer, and comedian declares. A pair of groundsmen tug at a hose, beginning their watering ritual on the square. “This is almost blissful,” Jupp murmurs, his voice dropping to a reverent hush. “You know, that day, 12 September 2005, was life-changing for so many of us.”
For Jupp, the final day of the 2005 Ashes series didn’t just alter the course of English cricket—it rerouted his own trajectory, at least temporarily. In his early twenties, he was carving out a path as a standup comedian and actor. Back in 2001, he clinched victory in the prestigious newcomer competition So You Think You’re Funny? “The final was held on 25 August, the same date Michael Atherton played his final innings for England,” Jupp recalls. “In my victory speech, I dedicated my prize to him.”
Soon after, Jupp landed the role of Archie the Inventor in the BBC children’s series Balamory. The show exploded into a terrestrial television phenomenon. Fans would yell “Archie!” at him on the street. More series were greenlit. Arena tours sold out months in advance. What began as a short, steady acting gig had ballooned into an unexpected albatross. “I was feeling pretty lost at that time if truth be told,” Jupp admits. “I felt stuck so tried to rid myself of the stupor by taking not one but two shows up to the Edinburgh festival in the summer of 2005. I was so busy, but all I really wanted to do was watch the cricket.”
With the Ashes poised for a decisive Test at The Oval, Jupp wrapped his Edinburgh commitments and found himself in London. “I was torturously close to the action,” he says. His days were consumed by rehearsals for the next Balamory live show at the National Youth Theatre. “I knew I just had to get here [the Oval] and watch some of that series in the flesh.”
On the series’ final day, a free man, Jupp joined the swelling morning queues in Kennington. A ticketing guardian angel sold him a spare ticket for a tenner. He was in. “I sat in awe,” he remembers. “Kevin Pietersen’s hooked sixes off Brett Lee after lunch sailed just over my head in the crowd. Just amazing. For an England cricket fan in the 90s, 2005 was the end of the movie in a way.”
In the afterglow of England’s first Ashes series win in 18 years, Jupp drifted away from the beer-fueled choruses of Jerusalem. His eyes lifted through the fluttering ticker tape toward the press box. He spotted journalists hunched over their laptops. “Something in me clicked,” Jupp states. “That’s what I should be doing with my life.”
That moment ignited an audacious plan. Jupp’s standup show and 2013 book, Fibber in the Heat, chronicle the wild journey that followed: how he blagged his way onto England’s Test tour of India as part of the press corps in March 2006. Now, back at The Oval where it all began, Jupp reflects on his motivations. Was he genuinely serious about cricket becoming his profession, or was it merely a case of “this will make for good material down the line”?
“Well, I won’t deny that part of me definitely thought whatever happened would be a good experience I could perhaps draw upon,” Jupp concedes. “But I don’t think I was cynical enough at the time to think this is a good way of getting a one-hour narrative show! No, I’m afraid I was really invested in it.”
His investment was tangible. Jupp funded the entire trip upfront by performing pantomime in Aberdeen the previous Christmas. Widow Twanky to the Wankhede? “Ah, I’m yet to give my ‘Twank’, I was Simple Simon,” he clarifies with a laugh. “One of my finer performances.” His distinctive giggle echoes through the empty stadium.
“But actually, when I put the India material together for the book of Fibber I remember thinking, hang on, this is actually quite sad,” Jupp reveals. “I guess I look back now with misty eyes, but it is fair to say I found it tough going. I thought getting on tour and into the press box would be the hard bit. That turned out to be relatively easy. What frightened me was what you were meant to do when you were in there, that turned out to be the difficult thing. I couldn’t really understand the workings of it because I was trying to pretend like I knew what I was doing already.”
The experience crystallized one truth for Jupp. “It taught me that I love cricket, but I’m a fan,” he asserts. “I never really got to grips with the almost theatrical neutrality of the press box. I need to be in the stands and that’s absolutely fine by me.”
He did, however, get to rub shoulders with cricketing legends. “I’m full of admiration for what Miles did,” says David Gower. “To go out there and make it happen with pretty much just the smile on his face is very impressive. I remember this sort of diffident-looking chap joining us for a drink after a day’s play in Nagpur and he was just such good company. Miles didn’t need cricket really …”
Jupp may not have needed cricket for a career, but his bond with the game remains profound. He watches the Oval groundstaff with focused intensity. “It’s kind of hypnotic isn’t it?” We sit in quiet contemplation for a moment. “You know, I had a brain tumour a few years ago. I had brain surgery and things like that. Of course that gives you perspective. You’re like, what actually matters? What do I have time to do in life? What interests do I want to pursue? What I’m getting at is that cricket is … just massively, massively important to me.”
