The Saga of Murray's Mound

I'll grant you that I might have banged on a bit about the football lately, but after the light relief of admiring the silly hats at Ascot, our TV screens are next to be taken over by Wimbledon.

But, for a change, it's not just this (grunt) taking over of the TV that I object too. Tennis I can tolerate. I've even been to (grunt) Wimbledon in the dim and distant past.

To see what gets up my (grunt) nose, I thought I would illustrate the (grunt) point by including a picture of Andy (grunt) Murray actually winning something! Let's face it, he's not going to win anything at (grunt) Wimbledon.

But the fans will paint their stupid faces and sit on the (grunt) hill behind Centre Court watching his every (grunt) move on the big screen. And how they will suffer when he gets knocked out just like (grunt) every year!

But the most interesting thing about Murray - and let's (grunt) face it there isn't much that is interesting about him - is that when he's (grunt) winning, he's British. But when he's losing, have you noticed he's suddenly Scottish?

And another thing. What's with all this fucking grunting!?!