Tennis-balls, my liege …

BH tennis balls
No, YOU eat it!

(subtitled: it’s not life and death, it’s just Wimbledon, sigh.  Now can I have my radio back, please?)

It’s not that long ago that I effectively promised that the blog’s ventures into the real world would remain topical rather than political – that when major sporting events were on I would give them as much treatment as the current political situation.

I despise Wimbledon.  With a passion you could only vaguely grope at, like a sixteen-year-old boy trying to cop his first feel in the back row of the cinema.  Assuming that sort of thing even happens nowadays – they seem to be too busy on social media, throwing popcorn, or trying to record the film on their smartphones.

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