Maudlin Murray

So bitter boy Murray is through to the quarter finals. And I don't care. His attitude on court is like that of a small boy who's always had his own way.
Gimme that ball or I'll tell my mum who's better than your mum anyway.

When the grim faced brat gets near to finishing off a match you can almost feel his anger at being challenged like this.
You rotten horrible pig why are you even bothering to come up against me?

His melodramatic aerobatics once over the winning line are entirely lacking in class, stardom or friendliness Throwing soggy wrist bands whilst twirling and twisting his hips around isn't an exciting thing to watch, unless the victor is smiling from ear to ear.
See this is what I can do and if you dare try and beat me I'll run to my mum screaming.

Murrays' tone of voice and his appalling lack of knowledge about what makes a sports star popular is driving me mad. OK he plays a good game. So what. Can you really imagine him walking onto centre court in a designer cardigan or wooing spectators with his on-court jests or even participating in a memorable interview. I for one loathe having the stroppy almost ill-mannered Scot representing Great Britain at tennis.

Tin Henman, Britain's previous great hope, was a posh boy who played a decent game but who had also had a charisma by-pass He is now a talking head on the BBC who for all his knowledge still bores me senseless. But he does smile occasionally. So points to Mr Henman. Murray however, never smiles. And that isn't good for either the spectators or himself. I think fans want to not only see a great player but want to be entertained aswell. And if entertaining isn't in your soul then at least have some class and balls. Murray has neither.
Tennis balls don't cut it. Jock.

His next match is tomorrow, I think, and I hope he comes out looking like he is proud to be there instead of a spoilt mummy's boy who's just had his lolly nicked.