Bring back the British Almost Hero
Andy Murray has finally left Wimbledon to the haunting sounds of the chinless wonders of SW London and celebs giving it “Come on Tim” until they realise that the guy out there is, in fact, a sweaty Jock called Andy who doesn’t even like England. The charisma bypass operation was a complete success many years ago as Mummy devoted Andy’s life to the pursuit of becoming the undisputed King of Great British Almost People because he actually did manage to win things.
History is littered with Plucky Brits and sport more than any other field has proved to be a fertile breeding ground. We have always had a reputation in this country for building our heroes up them throwing rotten fruit at them. It probably goes back to our ancestors preoccupation with the stocks.
In recent years we have had people like Henry Cooper. “Our ‘enry” was our affectionate name for him and his punch was known as “’enry’s ‘ammer”. Gor blimy, what a great cockney geezer he was. That’s why every time his name is mentioned the mentioner goes into “Eastenders” mode. What was Henry’s big claim to fame apart from looking sixty when he was only twenty five? He hit Mohamed Ali. He actually laid a glove on him and knocked him down. Good man Henry, well done. Sadly Ali got up straight away and proceeded to spank him. Frank Bruno was another boxing nearly man although he did manage to win a version of the worked title when they split it into so many different versions that my Nan held a title at one time when she handbagged the butcher in the Co-op for selling her some dodgy sausages. Frank’s biggest claim to fame was that he allegedly practiced his art on his wife and ended up in the Sol Campbell Clinic for unhappy people.
Going right back we had Guy Fawkes. Now, where is he when we need him? He’d get so much help today he couldn’t fail. There would probably be a fireworks party afterwards to celebrate!
Locally, of course, we had Martin Brundle. Nearly finished on the podium in a F1 race once. Only nearly – but he remains a local celebrity.
Maybe we can spank them Australian b*****ds. Maybe then we would recognise a cricketer who isn’t Kevin Peterson or Andrew Flintoff on A Question of Sport.
How fine life would be until the tabloids rolled out the stories that they have already written. Andy dresses as a woman when not on court, Wayne Rooney has GCSEs and Joe Root was born in Sydney.
Oh well, we can dream.