In which the youngest in society are taught that that if they have malice enough to set fire to people’s tennis rackets, headbands and shoes, then their own lives must pay the forfeit.
Tag: theatre of the absurd
Court Life: the best of enemies, the best of friends?
Continued from Court Life: it’s No Vacc for Novak!
Noli’s disingenuous claim that somehow our long-standing animosity could be interpreted as amiability grated all the way to the airport. Ever since we had encountered each other across the net of Wimbledon’s Centre Court all those months ago, he had never fully come to terms with how his game fell apart on that fateful Sunday afternoon in sunny SW19. He had been up by a set and a break but then it all unravelled.
“Terrible. I feel terrible.” He was heard gasping as he stumbled off court whilst I basked in the affection of the world’s press and its pooches.
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Get Back! Lord A.J.P.G.R. Murray of Kirkintilloch takes a call…
When I am not toning my physique, tennis technique and body-electrique, I like to tune into the old song and dance routines of the fabbest of foursomes, my old muckers, the Rutles of Rutland.
So imagine my joy when I realised recently that rather than having to watch re-runs of The Little Mermaid every afternoon, the Disney Channel has now started to broadcast every single minute of the final 21 days of the Rutles in their bio-docu-sci-fi-schlock-horror-epic, Get Back.
And what viewing it has been! Immeasurable stop-start-keep-missing-the-punchline of ‘Don’t Let Me Down’; Long winding looks of George who seems to be about to burst into flame any minute now; exquisite camera angles of John’s chin and NHS specs. I have been enraptured ever since the first chord was struck on the piano. DONG! It’s been a Hard Days Night sat here for sure, dear reader ever since that unfortunate episode on the Mersey all those years ago.
But the best was yet to come and it seems to me that the title of the 21 day documentary – Get Back – has assumed prescient proportions. Just take a closer look at the lyrics:
Andy was a man who thought he was a loner
But he knew it couldn’t last
Andy left his coach in Tucson, Arizona
And wondered who to contact next…
And guess what happened next? Guess who phoned the very next minute? That’s right! I received the call from the one and only (Sir) Andrew Murray (GOAT) to become his next coach, singing it in the only way Andy knows how:
Get back, get back (he crooned to me)
Get back to where you once belonged ( I will Andy, I will)
Get back, get back (no need to repeat yourself Andy)
Get back to where you once belonged…
And as the dear boys from Morningside once warbled to me over a pie and peas on Waverley station:
I’m on my way from misery to happiness today, (a-ha, a-ha)
And off I set to take heed of my calling: to become the next GOAT Head Coach for the tennis industry that is Andy Murray.
All you out there in the Tennis Fraternity of 2022: you have been warned. We are Getting Back and no longer Letting It Be.
(More on Lord Andrew J.P.G.R. Murray of Kirkintilloch’s exploits here