Watching a fabulous match between Andrew Murray and Frenchman Julien Beneteau. Wimbledon, pound for pound, provides far more entertainment and sportsmanship than the World Cup, or just about any other sports event. However, in the cynical / whiney tradition of this site, I want to point out 3 things that have already pissed me the hell off about Wimbledon:

1) Fist-pumping. I daresay it’s OK from time to time, but not every point, Messers. Hewitt and Murray.

2) Women “grunting”. It’s not grunting, it’s squealing, and there’s NO FUCKING NEED.

3), and most of all - self-righteous members of the audience applauding after the umpire has said “Ladies and Gentlemen, please do not use flash photography”. I HATE that SO MUCH.

Slightly bizarre exchange of e-mails this morning: Smile (internet bank run by the Co-op) are running a promotion whereby if you open an account with them, they give you 12 bottles of wine. I’ve been thinking of switching to a more ethical account for a while, and the Co-op are about the best there is on that front. So I sent them a message saying 1) are you able to transfer direct debits automatically, and b) what wine would I receive? This is the response I got:

“I’m sorry, but I can’t access or discuss an application in response to an e-mail, as it’s not secure”.

What the FUCK? Basically, some sharon has received my message, typed in a generic term into her console and received “Computer says no” as a response. Neither of my questions would have threatened the security either of their banking operation or of my finances, as I pointed out to her in my reply. I resisted the temptation to add “If ‘computer says no’, get off your arse and ask your fucking line manager”, but only just…

I’m a fairly committed Italy fan, and have spent most of the last 2 days setting Australians straight about the fact that the better team won in our World Cup encounter. But even I would stop short of the fervour displayed by Chinese commentator Huang Jianxiang; who later justified his comments by saying simply “I don’t like Australians”. Later still, sadly, he apologised. Instead, he should have carried on:

“Alan Border! Kylie Minogue! Dame Edna Everage! Donald Bradman! Skippy the Bush Kangaroo! Rolf Harris! Can you hear me, Rolf Harris? Your boys took one hell of a beating!”

Excellent - this is what we really want to know, not that Opta rubbish. Utterly subjective, of course, but nonetheless riveting - stats for not singing the national anthem, bullying the referee, tantrums etc… guess who came top of diving? I’ll give you a clue - it’s not Australia.

Actually, this one I’m quite proud of. A friend has just got back from his honeymoon in Turkey. I asked him about his itinerary, and he said “well, we spent the first four days in Istanbul”. “What then?”, I quipped, “did you take her up the Bosphorous?”

On a related point, check the top review on this restaurant site… fantastic stuff.

Second episode last night; it’s ALRIGHT, but certainly no better than alright. The odd good line, but I’m still not massively enamoured of any of the characters as comic creations, least of all Saxondale himself. The Clarkson pastiche was easy-peasy; taking the piss out of Jeremy Clarkson is the comedy equivalent of hitting a cow’s arse with a banjo, and he still didn’t manage it particularly convincingly. Coogan, as has already been mentioned, may have been spending too much time listening to the strange sounds emanating from Courtney Love’s Hole.

(For anyone who doesn’t get that last gag, “Hole” was the name of the band which Courtney Love fronted during the 90s. I’ve always said that a joke isn’t funny if it needs explanation, and this one is obviously no different.)

Once upon a time English footie was all “Cry ‘God for Harry, England and Saint George!’” All-out attack,  no cheating or diving, Terry Butcher covered in blood etc… nowadays, the refrain is “It doesn’t matter how we played, as long as we won”.

Score a fortuitous goal and spend the rest of the game giving your supporters heart-attacks with ropey defending, never looking remotely like scoring again… remind you of anyone? The only difference between the football cultures of the two countries nowadays, as far as I can make out, is that at least the Italian press are honest enough to reflect the REAL mood of the country at large, and thus to glory shamelessly in even the most ignominious 1-0 fluke.

On which point… Italy vs the Sheilaroos starts in 24 minutes. I fear for Italy’s dignity once again, although in the end I didn’t give in to my temptation to stick a tenner on the Aussies to mitigate any humiliation which they might suffer at the hands of the rabbit-murdering lunk-headed criminal colonials…

“Saxondale“, Steve Coogan’s much heralded new comedy (aired on Monday night, so I’m a bit behind the times) was very average. The premise; a former roadie, now running a pest control company, is strained to say the least, none of the characters are in the slightest memorable, and I didn’t laugh once. Coogan’s a fantastically versatile actor and writer, yet Saxondale had far too many similarities to Alan Partridge - almost as if he were trying to reprise AP but with a “winner” character.
I’ll give it another episode, but I think Coogan’s golden touch has gone. Although I must say in mitigation that Baby Cow (his production company, which is making him millions of pounds a year) is coming out with consistently excellent stuff.

A good friend of mine is having his Hindu wedding this weekend. On Sunday. Yes - at 4pm. Before departing for said wedding, I will be offering up a prayer to the minor deity in charge of the proximity of plasma screens…