A friend says that the three most depressing words in the English language are "Come On Tim!", referring to the shouts we all make at our TV sets in support of Tim Henman, the tennis luckless British player.
Each year for the past 14 we have watched him at Wimbledon. He gets good and then gets bad and then wins and then looses. Its painful to watch - he is like a schoolboy (despite the fact that he is 30 ands still doesn't have a tattoo). His gestures show that he is focused, in pain and probably constipated.
As I watch, he looks like taking his game with the Spanish player Lopez to a fifth set, having lost the first two in tie breakers. This is a second round game - if he goes through, well more pain.
He has made it clear that he will not retire this year. This means more pain. I suspect he would make an excellent Prozac salesman - he probably is accounting for around 20% of UK sales just by playing Wimbledon. He is in fact a property speculator.
He looks like the kind of guy whose most exciting moment is finding a penny in a pair of trousers he hasn't worn for a while.
Why I put myself through this agony of watching him every year I do not know. It must suggest something about my psychological needs.