Oh to be in England now that Summer's here...
The sun is shining, perhaps shining behind a massive cloud but shining nonetheless. The birds are tweeting like bastards. A gay old gentleman dribbles his cream on some fruit. A nubile young lady is running around in a tiny little skirt showing off her knickers and that. Meanwhile, a strapping young cove sits in the shade playfully fingering his hairy balls.
Yes, that's right, Wimbledon fortnight is upon us again. A chance for the Great British public to feign interest in tennis for a bit before ignoring it for the other 50 weeks of the year.
I anticipate being glued to the BBC's Wimbledon coverage, mainly because the television is broken, although who can fail to become a little excited at the prospect of a gimp in a huge baby-chair watching two barrel-chested, tree-trunk legged, sweaty beefcakes hit a ball over a net? However, not everyone shares my enjoyment of the women's game, preferring to ogle Roger Nadals and Rafael Federers instead.
Amelie Mauresmos:
25-1 to win the Women's Singles, 18-1 to win the Men's.
Of course, unless you enjoy queueing, you have to be well connected to get your hands on a ticket for centre court. I'm not sure what the qualifications are to become a big cheese in the Lawn Tennis Association. What i'd give to be paid to sit around all day thinking about seeding Maria Sharapovas.
Anyway, perhaps if there are some attractive East European lovelies on telly later i may just be tempted to practice my forehand.
'Music to Watch Girls By' - Andy Williams