Tim Fucking Henman

What an annoying twat. Partly because every time Wimbledon comes around I find myself wanting him to win the damned thing, but mainly because he always seems to do just enough to convince you that he is going to do just that, before fucking it up royally. He's the tennis equivalent of a tart in a nightclub who grinds her arse on yer knob all night before fucking off with her massive boyfriend. Who then takes you out the back for a shoeing.

Let's look at the evidence. His name is Timmy. YOU CAN'T BE A NATIONAL FIGURE OF SPORTING HOPE AND PRIDE IF YOU SOUND LIKE A TEDDY BEAR. Also, he is nicknamed Tiger Tim, purely because his name begins with a T. You could not wish to meet anyone less tiger-like. EVER. That fucking pathetic little fist pump he does when he wins a big point (normally it's when he gives himself a match point, usually followed by him twatting his next shot into the next postcode) is NOT tiger like. Neither is having a bird called Lucy, who tennis commentators constantly refer to as an English Rose. This is presumably because they haven't seen a woman since 1987, and looking at photographs of Eastern European girls' mimsies on the internet doesn't count. She looks like a sparrow, and has eyes like a killer.

Last night Henman encapsulated everything that I hate about him. Looking dead and buried, he fought all the way back to have four match points, fucked them all up, ensured the game ended at 5-5 in the fifth set and my bath was cold when I got in.

Middle class cunt.