The Wimbledon fortnight is nearly over. I hope you all had a great time watching it on the TV. Try living here. It sucks big sweaty balls.

Now I’ve lived in Wimbledon all my life. Once a year for a fortnight in the summer our little semi-detached ghetto becomes the centre of the tennis world. It also becomes the epicenter of the global wanker community.

It’s not that I just hate tennis. It isn’t exactly the most exciting sport but it beats golf, F1, cricket and rugby which, lets face it, are the only alternatives to football that we are given here in blighty.

I know there are wankers everywhere in this world, but they all seem to come out of the woodwork for the last week of June and the first week of July in south west London. You will probably need some examples.

1. Everyone who owns a shop

Tennis balls in the windows. Some of you might think — fair play, they want to get into the spirit of it and maybe attract a few extra customers, good on them. You think that because you are not a bitter, cynical bastard, and your opinion is therefore invalid. Every single shop puts tennis balls in their windows. Every single one. The three sports shops in Wimbledon can get away with it – tennis is sort of their thing. Likewise with the pubs, anything that keeps them in business long enough for me to kill my liver is all right by me. The estate agents, banks, restaurants, bakeries, corner shops, bridal shops, cinema and the big old Burger King however; they can all fuck off.