What's more, there is a greater chance of spotting one of them reaching for another olive to pop into the dry martini than a cricket bat.
Given that these two winter series are effectively for the wooden spoon of Test cricket, some might have considered a Siberian salt mine to be a more appropriate place to send them, but despite the blissful surroundings here in Vale da Lobo, this is a long way from being - as far as the players are concerned anyway - a kind of TCCB-sponsored junket to Euro-Butlins by the sea.
They are not playing any cricket in their week-long stay here, but the players are certainly shedding some perspiration in an effort to make England the fittest team in international cricket, if nothing else. If you were of a cynical disposition, you might say that improving stamina levels is ideal preparation for their traditional role of chasing around in the field for 2.5 days while the opposition rattles up a mountain of runs, but it is at least a sign of good intentions.
The players' pain levels - which at times this week have been almost as intense as those suffered by England's supporters are being tested at the instigation of the coach, David Lloyd, who plans to take English cricketers well away from the nottoo-distant past, when pre-season training consisted of a couple of jogs around the out-field, a bit of loosening up in the nets and back to the pavilion for tea and biscuits.
Lloyd has secured the services of Dean Riddle, one of Leeds Rugby League Club's fitness coaches. Riddle, a New Zealander, is compiling individual programmes for each player, and Lloyd's office at Lord's now contains a personal computer containing details of which ones have been sticking to them.
``I can turn on my machine, and find out within a matter of minutes which players are fit, and which ones are not. If I do find someone who's not doing the business, well, it will tell me something about him, won't it?'' Enough to see him out of the side? ``Sure. I want a fit team, and we've a fair way to go yet to achieve that.''
Lloyd's ambition is to be able to pick ``a batsman who doesn't give away his wicket through fatigue, and a fast bowler who can be whistled up for a flat-out spell towards the end of a long, hot day''
WHETHER or not this digital database leads to spotting England cricketers pounding the pavements before sun up, or sitting in the snug bar at the Horse and Hounds thumbing through a beginner's guide to computer hacking, is hard to say, but Lloyd's ambition is to be able to pick ``a batsman who doesn't give away his wicket through fatigue, and a fast bowler who can be whistled up for a flat-out spell towards the end of a long, hot day''.
Preliminary results from the club Barrington here indicate that some members of this winter's squad are towards the top end of the fitness scale, and some can only safely be put through their paces in the proximity of a ventilator machine. ``Nick Knight is very, very fit,'' said Riddle. ``One or two others have a lot of work to do.''
The ``one or two others'' were not identified by name, but Philip Tufnell did not look as though he was enjoying the 22yard ``shuttle'' runs too much, and had to wait quite some time to get enough breath back to light up a cigarette.
Tufnell, though, could not be faulted on effort, and neither can Lloyd for optimism. The coach said that Riddle and the England physiotherapist, Wayne Morton, had devised a fitness programme that he wanted to see utilised by all 18 first-class counties, and declared himself ``confident'' of receiving a favourable response.
Traditionally, the counties do not respond favourably to any suggestions from the England camp, and Lloyd faces the same problems as his predecessors in persuading the counties to reorganise their priorities towards the national team.
At least he is trying to do the best he can within the constraints of a system geared to the domestic game, though trying to get players ultra-fit in order to help them cope better with an overload of cricket is the old story of prescribing aspirin for a broken leg.
However, the days of Fred Trueman rejecting the offer of ship-board training from the Olympic athlete Gordon Pirie en route to Australia, with the words ``I bowled 1,000 overs last summer, 'ow many did you bowl, sunshine?'' appear to have gone forever.