Thursday, 5 July 2012


Been asked to pen my thoughts on Wimbledon.
A recent tweet of mine sums it up in less than 140 characters:

@MrJimmyCorkhill:    #ThingsIdRatherDoThanWatchWimbledon  be Joseph Fritzl’s daughter

But I shall now, of course, divulge as to why I’d rather be abducted and locked in a dingy cellar for a decade getting back-ended by crazy Austrian who happens to be my dad, than watch said tennis tournament.

Reason 1:  Andy Murray

What a miserable, miserable, miserable twat this lad is.  He’s got all the money in the world, he could have any hot slag he wants given his fame and fortune,  and yeh he’s pretty decent at hitting little yellow balls with a racquet too. So why why why does he look like he owned 50 pet cats that he loved and cherished, and they all just died on the same day of a freak strain of Feline Aids?  

Cheer. The. Fuck . Up.      Gizza smile lad.

Has anyone ever seen him smile?  Ever?  If he wins does he smile then? Or just he just grimace like he’s shitting out a spiced pineapple?

Reason 2 : Andy Murray’s Mum
Ah maybe this is why soft lad doesn’t smile. Imaging having Andy Murray’s mum as your Ma.  Bloody hell.   I can’t decide if she’s a lezza, or if she really needs a good seeing to. Or both.

And imagine your mum rocking up at everything and shouting you on like that ... Do you see Stevie G’s Ma in the dug out at Anfield going “Eeeeeyaaa Stevie Lad .. Go ‘ed there laddd... G’waaan son”

No. No you do not.

The only football player’s mum who gets involved in the footy scene is John Terry’s Ma.  Who, as the excellent rumour that we all like to consider fact goes, got shagged by Carragher’s cousin during Euro 08.   Belter that.   #JohnTerrysMaLovesScouseCock

Reason 3: Ball boys
Seen a belter tweet from @ScouseAmbassador yesterday saying that Wimbledon balls boys are all bad victims who got bullied at school and bummed by a choir master.  How true.  Possibly the most true tweet I’ve ever seen.

Absolute bad quegs the lot of them.

Its nailed on that they are all called Tarquin, Phillipe, Oscar, Rupert (Rupes to his chums) and William. I challenge anyone who reads this to find me a ball boy who is called Dave. Go on.  Find me a ball boy called DAVE and I will blog a photo of me with my bare arse out, cheeks spread, doing a Lauren Goodger style trout pout, finger on lips...  and I will put a tennis ball up my foreskin for good measure.

Seen how they are on best behaviour all the time, crouch perfectly, stand to attention like soldiers, dead quick with everything,  hand fresh towels out like sweets... and have all got the gayest run ever... Makes me cringe so hard my testicles invert.  Get on the ball boys at the match for some tips,  we’ve had some crackers in the Premiership over the years. Stroll round like they’re not arsed, they get the ball when they want. Do they give it back in a rush when Utd are attacking in the 90th minute- do they fuck.  Is right lads.

Reason 4:  The crowd
Another bunch of Tarquins, Phillipes, Oscars, Rupert s and Williams, with some Hermiones, Jermimas, Elizabeths, Margarets and Trixibelles thrown in.   Sat there with their cucumber butties and strawberries and cream. Actual cream. Not that squirty stuff from The Asda. Actually runny cream. Posh fuckers.
And their Robinsons Lemon Fruit & Barley.... in a flask.  Fucking fuck off.

Sitting there Instagramming photos of themselves and tweeting hash tags like  #TotesWimbledonYaaah , before switching from iPhone to their Blackberries to just check up on their work emails.

And there is obviously too much sugar in all them strawberries and fruit & barley  and it goes to their heads and they actually start getting excited at what’s going on in front of them:

  “Ooooh” ... “Aaaahh” ....   “Ooooh”  .... “Aaaaaah”

Are they messing?  A bloke is hitting a yellow thing at another bloke.  That bloke is hitting it back. Oh.. it hit the ground. Oh no. ????

And then you get them ones who actually SCREECH..    “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeekkk”  all because the bloke who hit the ball at the other bloke ALMOST didn’t hit it back when he got it hit back at him, but then he hit it back. Like, at the last second and that.   Zzzzzzzzzz.

And this crowd sit there ALLLLL DAY.   I get a numb arse in The Kop, if I don’t stand up and bounce to Theeeeeeeeee Fieeeeeeeeelds of Anfieeeeeld Roooooooad every 15 mins.   Can you imagine sitting there ALLLLLLL FUCKING DAY?   In these denims?   Norrrrapnin.

Reason 5 : People who can afford to pay £45k for a ticket for the men’s final

Kind of carrying on from Reason 3.. these posh twats that pay a fortune to go and get a numb arse. Saw an article today that tickets are currently trading for up to £15,000 per ticket, up  £3,000 since yesterday afternoon, and the price is predicted to reach £45k on the day.

Are they messing? Who in their right mind would pay £15k- 45k to watch a tennis match. Its on BBC for fuck’s sake.

For that money, I’d expect a court to be built in my back garden, and the ENTIRE tournament to be played there.  I’d expect champagne on tap, caviar butties, and them jam and cream scones and shit.  I’d expect the balls to be made of a unique combination of a fairy’s tears and a unicorn’s pubes. And an oily wank off Cockovich, or whatever he's called, would be included.

But even then, I wouldn’t watch it.  I would be in my living room with the curtains shut.

All in all, it is quite simply, a terrible spectator sport.  It really is.
Its just so .. uninvolved. You can’t follow a team, you can’t go at the weekend with your mates or take yer lad..  (Unless you’re called Tarquin or Rupes etc and you lad is a queg)

And there is no drama in a game of tennis. None.  No sending offs .. No fights.. No swearing at the ref...
Worst thing that can happen is a bloke will break a string on his racquet, or accidentally twat the ref with the ball and him fall off that funny perch.  That would actually be a laugh that, I’d watch tennis if the aim of the game was twatting balls at the ref and knocking them their high chair  - I vote Maggie Thatcher as first ref.

Yes you get the odd surprise, like when a shit guy beats a good guy and that..  but that’s about it.  

I’d quite honestly get more enjoyment out of watching Joey Barton sitting on the loo reading a dictionary.

Wimbledon in a nutshell: Its a CuntFest.  And a BoreFest.  And Venus Williams has got a cock.



  1. Wimbledon does not bother me one bit its only a small ball and a wooden stick !!

  2. I prefer a shufflecock myself Jimmy! Nice one.

  3. LOL so true...

  4. I'd like to see Djokovic hit tennis balls at 100 mph at Cliff Richard's arse draped over the net on centre court as the crowd shouted "Sing now you bastard".

  5. My name is Tarquin and I L-O-V to the E tennis. I have taken all that quite personally and I do NOT appreciate such and apauling barrage of hatred. Await my 'open letter to Jimmy Corkhill' in retaliation good sir.