Sue Barker was cackling on the Today programme this morning, banging on about “Tim”, and how “Tim” now has his best chance for many years to win Wimbledon. Tim. The name “Tim” always becomes irritating in the last week of June every year. I'm wondering how other Tims, fine, upstanding, cultured and amusing Tims such as feel about this abuse of their name, being hollered out by barely pubescent teens every 15 seconds. Actually, of all the Tims I know, is probably the most likely to have experienced this. Still. I've decided to call Henman by the name of Timothy this year, and the fuss surrounding his plucky but ultimately unsuccessful tennis as “Timothymania”.

I see they've employed Rusedski's vapid girlfriend to do slots on the BBC's Wimbledon coverage again this year. Last year there were toe-curlingly dreadful segments where her and her sister would giggle their way around the All England Lawn Tennis Club, accosting various athletic men with rapid-fire questions about their hair or their suntan. Last night she was interviewing Timothy about his game, and Timothymania, you know, the usual stuff. She broached the tricky subject of how Timothy's time is running out. She turned to the camera with a knowledgable look on her stupid face and said “Because, you know, once these guys reach 30, their career is effectively over!” As if we expected them to continue toiling away until the official retirement age of 65, or even 70, as they become increasingly susceptible to injury, slipping down the world rankings until they are elegible for a state pension. Jeez. Anyway, if Henman and England both win sporting finals a week on Sunday, I trust Tony Blair will call a referendum on the EU constitution immediately.

This morning on the bus, the driver asked people not to stand on the “upper saloon”. Saloon. I need hardly tell you what image came into my head. Alright, I will, it involved big hats and swinging double doors.