Nor does it at present appear particularly close to joining the party - although it is hard to fathom how the Movement will fully captivate the Indian sub-continent without it.

But still I think it is worth making space on this website to reflect on the passing of one of the sport’s great commentators, Richie Benaud, who died earlier today aged 84.

Why? Well, there are few more enduring cultural enmities than that which spices Anglo-Australian relations.

Yet I can call to mind no Australian in any field who was as universally respected in Britain as Benaud was.

(It is, of course, unthinkable that any Britain in Australia should have been held in similar esteem.)

This, then, is a rare and valuable enough phenomenon for it to be worth considering why Benaud inspired the reaction that he did.

Impartiality, truth, integrity - the old virtues - have a lot to do with it; but it was more than that.

He was also utterly professional: even before retiring as a cricketer, he embarked on a training course that enabled him to observe previous masters, such as tennis’s Dan Maskell and golf’s Henry Longhurst, going about their business.

“The thing that struck me about those two guys,” Benaud once said, “was they didn’t talk much.

“Sometimes the producer would say into Henry’s ear-piece, ‘Are you still awake, Henry?’ or, ‘Are you still alive, Henry?’”

“He did all the work before the race meeting. That’s why I always get to the ground early.”

But in a sport where tradition has all too often been seen as a virtue in and of itself, Benaud - though as well-mannered as anyone in the Lord’s pavilion - had a refreshing ability to judge things on their merits.

This was never clearer than in his attitude to the Kerry Packer imbroglio in the 1970s, when he sided with the rebellion against the sport’s establishment, hence helping to administer a monumental and, in retrospect, much-needed shake-up.

Nor, while his judgement came more and more to be seen as the final word on cricketing matters, did he slide into the trap of becoming grand or self-important.

Benaud and his wife kept an apartment in France (whence his forebear sailed to Australia), and he was happy to act as patron of the sport in that country which, while it won the only Olympic silver medal for cricket ever awarded, is hardly known for its cricketing prowess.

This was at its most explicit in a playing career that saw him captain his country with great success, as well as capturing 248 Test wickets as a leg-spin bowler.

His cricketer-of-the-year profile in the 1962 edition of Wisden, the cricketers’ bible, noted that he “demonstrated to enthusiasts all over the world that the intention to make cricket, particularly Test cricket, attractive and absorbing is every bit as important as skilled technique”.

But his sheer enthusiasm for the sport was seldom far below the surface.

“Och! Absolutely brilliant,” he exclaimed when asked 10 years ago about the epic 2005 Ashes series between England and Australia.

“Here I am 42 years in television and this is the most thrilling Test series I’ve ever seen.”

Benaud bowed out from the cricket commentary-box in Britain at the end of that unforgettable series, which at least means that cricket fans here have been able to acclimatise to life without him.

I had the privilege of interviewing Benaud just ahead of the final Test match of the series.

I found him courteous and direct, but aloof and unyieldingly resistant to whatever doomed attempts I made to establish even a veneer of mateyness.

To achieve the clarity of perception for which he became revered, however, it is also usually necessary to keep your distance.

A Financial Times colleague deftly headlined the subsequent piece, “Au revoir, Sport.”

The headline seems just as fitting today.