Wimbledon starts today. The best tennis tournament in the world. Well, the only one I watch, which means it must be the best. Right? I never watch the French, all that clay and 87-shot rallies, nor the Aussie, as its on in the middle of the night, and the same for the American, though that’s in the middle of the previous night, if ya get my drift. And Wimbledon is special. Its old, its on grass and its all white. This year very white. Because they’re no longer allowing coloured sportswear to be displayed by the players. No black shorts, red socks, yellow t-shirts, pink knickers. Just white. And anything that’s on display must be white, right up to the last 1cm band which can be decorative. Any inappropriate garments will be removed. Even the knickers. Though sadly replaced with something more suitable.

So now there’s conflict. Tennis and the World Cup. Forget the cricket, too dull and depressing to watch (where’s the rule that ‘England can’t win nuffink’? Where’s that written??), the New Zealand rugby tour is over now (played 3, lost 3) and there’s probably golf around, but who can be bothered when there’s proper, real, get sweaty and pant, sports on 12 other channels? I may have to suspend work for a bit to get it all in.

So Wimbledon, all white and green and lovely. Its as British (I use that word loosely, to mean ‘English’ as there’s nothing remotely Scottish, Welsh or Irish about that part of greater London) as the aristocracy. And one aristocrat is up for special mention today. Jamie Lonsdale lives on his family estate in Oxfordshire, just 1000 acres given to his ancestor, Lord Raglan, in 17-hundred and whatever, for… I dunno, fighting Prussians? stopping a revolution of peasants? stabbing Napoleon?? Who knows where these things come from in our wonderful and historic land? But incumbent Jamie is selling the pile. Land and all. To settle his divorce from wife number 1 who was one of Princess Diana’s ladies in waiting. Waiting for what? I have no idea, but it probably means something important to crusty old fascists. And he’s doing this, age 55, to marry his newly-beloved. A pole dancer. Not a Pole dancer, that could mean ballet, could mean all sorts of cultured, almost decent things done in a Polish accent. But no. This is a pole dancer, ‘actress’ and member of the ‘Only Tease’ website. Cool. She’s a bit younger than him. Well, quite a bit younger really, but that is the nature of true love. It has nothing to do with lust, with gonads, with dirty-old-men. This is love. A meeting of minds. And she apparently, don’t mind at all. I wish them luck and best wishes for their future. Or ’til the money’s all gone’, as it is known in some circles.

This World Cup is amazing. Belgium, like Argentina, all the ‘big guns’ were dull and boring and lucky to get through. Whereas Algeria against North Korea was fantastic. And the Yanks almost beat Portugal who look soon to follow England back to Europe even with the great (so he says) Ronaldo. The best player in his house.

Over 100 goals so far. And tennis now as well. Better check the batteries on the remote.

Happy monday

A xxxx