Stumped Pietersen, bald Warne

The speed of Kevin Pietersen's self-appointment as Shane Warne's spokesman has seemed faster than any of his one-day centuries. Hampshire's high-profile team-mates have struck an instant and entertaining bond, and their activities and private conversations stream through Pietersen's accent at a run-a-ball rate. His words ooze of worship, and are dangerous for a batsman waiting for a Test debut that could arrive facing his hero.

Pietersen gives away something juicy about Warne in most interviews. To be fair, since returning from South Africa there have been a lot - he must occasionally run out of things to say about himself - but Pietersen is making the Warne files bulge like his old Madame Tussaud's waxwork. First there were stories about how he was helped to settle in Southampton, including "absolute champion" character references for his captain, followed by the improvement of his sledging under Warne and the ability to pick his flipper.

After the strong, cricket-related colour came the Hello!-style streaks. They flick through trashy magazines in the same London salon, sharing tips on tips and discussing Warne's bald spot. For a bowler dependent on smokes and mirrors it was eyelid-thining treatment. Not to mention the extra care Adam Gilchrist must now take whenever blurting "Bowled Shane".

This week Pietersen upped the PR campaign by letting The Independent's readers know how Warne thinks England can win the Ashes. He also number dropped 600, his new pet nickname. It is hard to predict who will be more excited if Pietersen is the batsman to bring up Warne's sixth century.

Warne hasn't had a mouthpiece this busy since, well, himself. Yet even his private conversations usually took an English nurse or a South African mother to expose. Rather than shirk away from feeding Pietersen information, Warne is sitting back and delivering the lines.

Perhaps he is bored by the standard, dreary ploys to force pre-season opposition shakes. Or maybe he's already working on his opening Test-sledging scalp. Warne has had several close friendships with opponents such as Darren Gough. Never has an Australian been so close to having a puppet in the England dressing room, and Darren Lehmann and Craig White were brothers-in-law.

Pietersen's allegiance has been exhaustively and cruelly tested, but the spilling of Warne's baked beans forces the question: which side is he on? Michael Vaughan and Duncan Fletcher surely don't want a squad member scaring his senior team-mates by repeating Warne's "blood players who aren't brainwashed" theory. Pietersen should start to wonder if his greatest influence has a cunning Blackadder plan.

Despite knowing a lot about Warne's closet - he probably helped move it - Pietersen is in danger of running out of anecdotes. ("This story is off-the-record, 600." "C'mon Warney, I thought you said they were for breaking.") Warne has allowed his new mate to use his feet, luring him into a sense of friendly trust and equality. He has told Pietersen he won't sledge him during the Ashes, which sounds like a parent's promise to leave a light on all night. Warne may have decided he wants power in reserve.

Could Pietersen be trying a similar psychological trick? Attempting to out-fox the slyest legspinner since Clarrie "The Fox" Grimmett, who in the quaint old-fashioned style limited his trickery to changes of flight, pace and spin, is a career-threatening risk. Will Warne advise him on the dangers of being "naïve and stupid"? A quick text to Daryll Cullinan and Andrew Hudson in the old country would be a reminder of Warne's powers of verbal and physical retribution. Nasser Hussain and Chris Adams could be valuable closer to Hampshire.

Warne is rarely second in cricket wars of words and hasn't lost a Test series against England. Pietersen is young, hugely talented and doe-eyed impressionable. Whether he's playing games or acting normally, it is a surprising way to win friends, Test spots and, maybe, an Ashes series. As far as influencing people, Warne has won again.