Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ

She'll watch all the games and then watch 'em again on Today at Wimbledon with that slightly lop-sided smoothie Inverdale.

Me, I just grin and bear it and head out to the Blue Bell a tad earlier than usual.

Of course for a man of a certain age - actually any age - ladies' tennis is supposed have its benefits. Kournikova's over but we're meant to be lusting after the leggy beauties Sharapova and Ivanovic. Well not me.

That was a potty affair, wasn't it? Good if you're going to be serving Pimms, but not tennis balls. And to be honest, I can't bear the lass's squawking. It must resemble the racket you hear from the inhabitants of a haunted hen coop.

If that woman ever gives birth naturally, they're going to have to put her in a padded cell in the middle of the Gobi desert if the rest of us are going to get any peace. The Williams sisters can do a fair bit of roaring too, and that Elena Demented-eva... well if she were my daughter I'd have stopped that sort of squealing before she could walk. 'Orrible.

. A bonny lass but there's only so much flirting from Michael Stich that you can put up with before it puts you off your game.

The Williams sisters fought up countless plucky competitors until the inevitable family day out on Saturday. It were better than you expected, I suppose, but it's hard to watch any sport when you're not really rooting for anybody.

Meanwhile, British tennis has found a new darling, my niece* (*not yet verified). She can whack a tennis ball and she's got a lovely personality and a dazzling smile. It could be a disaster.

I'd give her a couple of tips. Don't tell anyone you can sing - even if you can. Don't start your own teen fashion line just yet. Drinking beer and falling over is not big or clever. You don't want to be the Charlotte Church of tennis now, do you pet?

I hope they keep her under wraps and give her an outside court next year early doors and most of all I hope I don't hear her name mentioned for another 12 months. Then we'll know she's being well looked after.

The lad Murray was in mint form and even I was on the edge of me bar-stool during the Gasquet match. I like the bloke. He's not very strawberries and cream and even a trim and a cap-erectomy haven't helped him look anything less than a stroppy kid who smokes rollies on the bench in front of the town hall.

I don't mind him roaring and raging, either, unlike the ladies. Some of you'll call it sexist but I think it's physiological. Murray yells - I feel fine. Demented-eva yells, my ear-drums bleed and I feel like buying one of them laser pens and heading down to SW19 tout suite.

Murray's only mistake was that biceps display. Nadal was coming up next and compared to his arms, Murray's looked like a raisin on a piece of spaghetti. In fact, everyone, me included, was just waiting for the final. And I have to say it wasn't just the greatest tennis match I've ever seen - it was right up there as one of the greatest pieces of sport I've ever witnessed.

They're I can't relax watching Nadal, though. He's all sinew and strength and speed and he kind of puts me on edge. He takes a bit long between points 'n' all. It's not quite as long as the pause in the penalty-taking run up of Cristiano Ronaldo but it's not far off.

My main gripe is that the bloke ought to be wearing shorts that don't clamber up between his butt-cheeks on every point. All that yanking of his gusset puts you right off.

Federer's a different kettle of fish. He's all silent running and elegance. Even then I don't reckon that he gets away with them cardies. Next year we'll be looking at the RF pipe and slippers.

But they're a great contrast, that's for sure. The contest was like gunboat vs yacht, dog v cat, 4x4 Subaru v Ferrari, hammer v knife, cheddar v emmenthal, Kelly v Astaire. With Nadal the one left Singin' in the Rain.

says you can't beat an opponent unless you properly hate them - and on that basis I could definitely have come close against him - that basin cut for starters (did he do it himself?) But clearly it's hokum. It's hard to think of two nicer geniuses in sport.

There's no point in me banging on about the way they played - let's just say I've never seen anything like it, especially when it really mattered. I was just shaking my head most of the time.

If Murray thinks he's got a major in him then he's got a bloody long way to go!