Lawn Games or just Yawn Games:
Watching Wimbledon has made me develop an extaordinary muscle spasm. My mouth opens really really wide - stretched almost - and a very wierd noise protrudes from my vocal cords sounding a bit like ‘urgh’. Yes - it is a yawn.
The only thing more boring than watching tennis is writing about it so I will keep this brief. Not only do I hate strawberries and cream and have been limited to my Pimms consumption but I do generally believe (Emmeline Pankhurst please don’t turn in your grave when i say this) but it is only vaguely enjoyable to watch when men are playing. In my eyes men are allowed and women are just plain loud. All that orgasmic shrieking and shouting - I swear there are rats hanging themselves in the sewers with that ‘racket they make.
I also really do feel that in the London area - when Wimbledon is over - there must be a real lack of neck braces within doctors surgery’s as watching the tennis must leave you with an agonising ache in your neck from moving left to right to left to right - i’m surprised the various umpire’s don’t need a chiropodist on speed dial.
Anyway - I do hope you enjoy the rest of the action on the beloved BBC - and get your fill of strawberries and cream, Pimms on tap and sufficient development of a ridiculous airtex tan line…