Andy Murray

James Corden is not the next Andy Murray

This blog has been shortened as I think we should all be outside getting some vitamin D.

Here’s a disclaimer, I am by no means a tennis expert or a tennis fan. I only watch it when it is on one of the few television channels that I have. I don’t play tennis. I find the boundaries of a tennis court too restrictive, I don’t like to be confined during leisure time. I once owned a tennis racquet, I mostly used it to play rounders. I do however have a ruthless two-handed topspin forehand, when fully fit (I’m carrying a shoulder injury and can barely get a jumper over my head nevermind a serve).

Wimbledon is great, it’s uplifting, a brief antidote to everyday life under the coalition, isn’t it? It’s inspirational in many ways. I mean, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I am not going to be a Wimbledon champion, but it encourages me to get outside and see some grass. That’s just from watching it on my tiny tele. Imagine actually being there. Being overwhelmed by the atmosphere, seeing how tall these players are, hearing how hard they hit that little ball and watching how fast they run. That could really motivate some child to pick up a racquet and become the next tennis hero. Yet, do we see the excited faces of children in the crowd? No, we see the faces of tired old royals, keeping their privileged knees warm with pure new wool blankets and resting their privileged arses on velvet cushions stuffed with our taxes. We see Amir Khan taking photos on his modest gold iPhone while his wife looks like she could kill a population with the apathy virus she is infected with. James Corden, Jude Law, Michael McIntyre!?

James Corden is not the next Andy Murray. These hospitality junkies should give up their seats to someone who will be inspired by the experience, to someone who can’t afford a ticket, to someone whose daddy isn’t on the board of Rolex.

In summary, the children are the future, not James Corden’s face.

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A toast to Rabbie Burns

In honour of Burns Night, a toast to Rabbie Burns…

Robert Burns was born in Alloway on the 25th January 1759. He is probably best known for playing the role of the famous secret agent, James Bond, a total of seven times. Nicknamed “The Big Yin” he invented the telephone in 1875 and transmitted the first television picture in 1925.  This was followed by the discovery of penicillin in 1928 and the launch of the Ultimo bra in 1999.

Just last year he won two further gold medals at the London Olympics, making him the most successful British Olympian of all time. He continues to front Reporting Scotland and is the face of Scotland’s Children in Need coverage.

Today he reached the final of the Australian Open in Melbourne where he will play Novak Djokovic. We wish him luck. Please raise your glasses, to Rabbie Burns!