Ah, those over clever Australians. Just for a change we bring something revolutionary - and enormously successful- to cricket, namely Twenty20, and now our favourite cousins from Down Under decide to introduce their own little addition - nicknames on the back of their shirts.

Now, there was me thinking that the whole idea behind names on shirts was clear identification. So that in days gone by some poor spectator might have been able to say:

"Ah, that was that young James dropping that sitter of a catch over there." The culprit identified.

So I turned on the TV to see that 'Catfish' was opening the batting for Australia in their Twenty20 encounter against South Africa. The chap at the other end was 'Marto'- I recognised him. That was Damien Martyn. But 'Catfish'? Who on earth was he?

For a moment I thought that the South Africans were being equally silly because their opening bowler had no name whatsoever on his shirt, and I didn't recognise him either. Then his mate at mid-on misfielded one and he didn't have a name on his shirt either. 'What is going on here?' I asked rather loudly, even making my eight-week old son, Rhys, jump.

Soon all became clear. 'Catfish' is James Hopes, that well-known all-rounder (not) from Queensland and South Africa's two men without names were Garnett Kruger and Monde Zondeki, whose unexpected presence due to injuries had caused some hurried borrowing of plain shirts.

But this whole idea was plainly ludicrous. The Australians tried something different in their first Twenty20 match against New Zealand last year by wearing retro kit, with some of the players deciding to imitate players, including my old friend Mike Kasprowicz whose white head-band and outrageous appeals brought back instant memories of Dennis Lillee. That was quite funny. This? Well.

There was an ex-Glamorgan player playing for Australia (as there was for South Africa in Jacques Kallis- bet he wouldn't have had 'Scrumpy' on his back if his team had been sporting nicknames- he liked a tipple of the cider and it fitted nicely with his Christian name). Mick Lewis is his name. Did you know what his nickname was? No, nor did I.

I recognised his face but kept straining to see what was on the back of his shirt. I got there in the end. 'Billy'. Why? That is always the question next. I don't know why. I had a suspicion that the Glamorgan lads might have called Lewis 'The Brown Snake'. I looked it up in the Cricketers' Who's Who reference book (a brilliant book by the way - why is there no equivalent for rugby?) and it was in there as his only nickname. Why was that not used? Was it too rude?

Who chooses these nicknames anyway? The usual idea of a nickname is that it is given to you by your team-mates. And heaven forbid that you say you don't like it. That is a sure-fire recipe for it sticking. My nickname at Glamorgan was 'Sid' after the Carry-On character Sid James. Crap nickname. Do you think that I was going to say so? No. I became used to it and don't mind it so much now but I much preferred my Lydney one of 'Pedro,' but that's another story, so is that of 'Dougie No-Mates' which was bestowed upon me at Cambridge.

Of course, there was also the bog-standard 'Jamer', 'Jamo' or 'Jamesy'. Don't you just love it when there is such originality in the creation of such names? Just like Marto.

Owen Parkin, the former Glamorgan bowler who so brilliantly composed the lyrics to the team song, used to love conjuring up nicknames in the dressing room. So if a name appeared on TV he would be off. Say it was Ian Bell. "Tinker, wedding" or words after "ringer", becoming more obscure "...s of doom and gloom." And again when the same player appeared, off he would go again.

That confused one of the slower members of the dressing room once; upon hearing the "wedding Bell" connection he shouted out "engagement". Engagement bells soon became all the rage.

Nicknames should be used in the dressing room. They are intended for some light-hearted fun between mates. You should never address someone you don't know by his nickname. I used to loath it when fans called me by nickname, which they might have heard somewhere.

I thought it disrespectful. I listed all the Glamorgan players' nicknames on my book, but that doesn't mean anyone who has read it should use them.

But if the Australian cricketers (and the silly experiment is also being used in their domestic Twenty20 matches) are happy with that so be it.

Twenty20 is a marvellous thing, but, as we have seen in England and Wales, sometimes you can try too hard with the peripheral razzmatazz. You never know; the fans might just be there for the cricket. It doesn't take long after all.