Audio version – West London Man (15) : 15 – Love to George
The English summer continues. Ascot has, thankfully, passed into memory and George has two tickets to watch the Murray v Haas game at Wimbledon. Caroline has tickets for the second week. George, it has to be said, has absolutely no interest in Tennis. His tastes are for full contact sports like rugby, but even George was surprised when a New Zealand mate of his phoned from New Zealand to name the four England players, allegedly involved in absolutely nothing at all, and certainly nothing of note in terms of exciting play or even vaguely interesting or diverting opposition against the All Blacks, and then moved on to talk about spit-roasting.
Caroline has been offered a post by her ex-boss and is spending the day at her old office to get a feel for things before making a decision on whether to accept the offer.
George has invited Rick, a musician who enjoyed some success with a band in the eighties. They arrived at Wimbledon shortly after 2.00. Two women were playing tennis, so George and Rick went off for some drinks and a bit of Class A
Rick: I can’t stand f******g tennis. Why are we here? I mean look at ’em. The place is crawling with chinless wonders, and…. see those two caber tossers with the Scottish flag painted on their faces. I mean… who the f**k plays tennis in Scotland?
George: Apparently the guy with the curly hair is a Scot… Andy Morgan… or something…. No… I can’t stand tennis either, but free tickets are free tickets – and they come with £200 in crisp twenties for drinks which should see us through. Champagne?
Rick: Nah…. I want some Pimms…. undiluted…. on the rocks and no F*****g fruit. I’ll have an umbrella in it though. I’m off to the bog for a sharpener.
Rick nips off to the lavatories to powder his nose. George organises the drinks and buys Rick a treble Pimms on the rocks. There were no umbrellas available at the Bar for the drink, so George put the Wimbeldon Lawn Tennis Club umbrella supplied with the tickets into the tall glass of Pimms and opened it up ready for Rick’s return. People nearby look on with mild disdain. Their disdain was soon to turn to severe disdain and a lot of middle class muttering and clucking. Rick returns, sees the Wimbledon umbrella stuffed in his glass of Pimms and starts laughing maniacally… and very quickly.
George: I’ll be right back. This is a bit of a Class A joint… so when in Rome…. time to get the Dyson out.
Rick: OK…see you in a mo, mate.
The two men drink for about an hour, talking quickly at each other, glance occasionally at others wandering about not watching the tennis, and get fairly drunk. Rick didn’t enjoy his Pimms so he went and bought a couple of double Vodkas for himself and a bottle of Champagne for George. He also bought some strawberries, mashed them into a pulp with his fist, licked the strawberry juice off his hand and poured the pulped strawberries into his two glasses of Vodka. After several more visits to the lavatory and further drinks orders, the two men make their way out to their seats for the Centre Court Murray v Haas match. The game starts soon after.
George: Come on Tim!….
Rick: Who is Tim?
George: He’s over there in The Royal Box.
Rick: Yeah… but who is he?
George: A tennis player…. he didn’t win Wimbledon…. . but few do. In fact, if you think about it… only one person a year can win Wimbledon… he was a good player but just did not make it despite the hopes of a nation…. but made piles of cash being British about not winning…..
Rick: Bit like most of us in the rock biz.
George: Same with our lot, really… in fact probably true of most people. A lot of people are pretty useless at what they do and get paid for it. I mean take newsreaders. Why do they earn shedloads for reading?
Rick: Yeah, mate…. same with Gordon Brown… “Started well, f****d up, still in power….. and he complains about that buffoon Mugabe being elected with no opposition candidate!”
George: You have a point…. not a great point, and certainly not set point, but a point nevertheless… and does it matter?… they’re all on the make… dodgy expenses, nannies who can’t type doubling as secretaries…. failing to comply with their own regulations….
Rick: Yeah… and some of those f*****s also cycle and don’t stop at red lights, ride on the pavement and cycle the wrong way down one way streets….C***s…
George: Yes… they are…. F**k I’m pissed…. that tennis ball is going incredibly fast…. Well done Tim!… play up… play up… play the game.
Rick: Who is Tim?…. ah… F**k it… I can’t watch this shit… I’m going back to the bar… fancy a drink?
George: Yes…. this is tedious.
***
Yes…. this is tedious.
For once George is spot on – tennis? yawnnnnnnnnnn…
Mind you ‘Yes…. this is tedious’ would make a good sign to hang over the main entrance to Wimbledon.
~Yawn~ It’s true… tennis stopped being exciting about 10 years ago! I’m trying my damndest to work out who “Rick” is… any clues?
The BBC talking about Tim and Andy like they are family..Tim sitting in commentary box wiht nothing ot say…sad Home Counties type crowd cheering on another British loser..mumsy Sue Barker….Andrew Nearly, almost man Castle, the LTA in UK subsidising middle class mediocrity and who was the fat chick that played…
Ok my work is done here
Ms R – to the point as usual. tennis is not for me…. I just cannot watch it….
I’d rather watch a debate in The Welsh Assembly on water conservation…
Thank you Charon: I like to think I tell it like it is.
It’s bothering me how much nose-powdering seems to be going on in George’s circle. I must have been moving in the wrong circles … or, possibly, in the right ones.
Oh fuckity fuck: Murray won and now all the Home Counties mums will want to have sex with him like they did with Tim. They will shout his name out in their sleep.
What a sick world we live in when people aspire to bed mediocre tennis stars? I feel cheap thinking about it.
Ms R – Good god… a Brit into the last 16.
Ro: Nose powdering is remarkably widespread in West London – almost comically so at times.
Ms R:
“What a sick world we live in when people aspire to bed mediocre tennis stars? I feel cheap thinking about it.”
What?… as in come, Tim! ….
I can understand someone wanting to shag Agassi or McEnroe in their day – but Tim Henman? – I prefer not to dwell on such matters.
Thank God, Murray’s been disposed of nicely. I have had a shit day with the computer so now I am pleased.
Ms R: So he is a goner! I thought that Nadal was likely to win – not that I know anything of any value about tennis apart from what I read and have seen.
At least we won’t be subjected to television coverage of eager men and women of a particularly English style looking as if they are about to hyperventilate and, quite possibly, urinate.
Cricket is rather a different game, thankfully –
West London Man is off to henley next… where, inevitably, he will commit some social atrocity with water. Caroline has started work – and George is about to find that not all is well in Eden.
It rains at Wimbledon and the brave Brit gets beaten.
It’s nice to be reassured that in these turbulent times some things remain constant …
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