Tennis fans – you know the drill. You’ve gone around work all day like one of those hear-no-evil, see-no-evil, speak-no-evil chimps to avoid a spoiler of the Wimbledon results, raced home and dived in front of the telly. I’ve been a tennis fan and Wimbledon addict since I first developed feelings for Stefan Edberg aged eight , but wait, what’s this?
Familiar as the smell of your granny's kitchen, the Beeb's traditional Today at Wimbledon nightly highlights show, hosted by sexy golden mop with Alex Cooper eyeliner Sue Barker, has been replaced by Wimbledon 2day ("That's the number two, because we're on BBC2," new presenter Clare Balding helpfully explains.)
Wimbledon 2day (BBC2, 8.30pm) is the product of Beeb's hopeless attempt not to appear all red trousers, monogrammed slippers and "Oh nanny did say the funniest things like when she told us she felt nauseous after Hatty hit her on the head with mummy's theatre binoculars!" when they are covering the tennis. But it all comes over more desperate than Calum Best doing a personal appearance in Lillie's Bordello.
So what’s changed? Well in a clamour to catch up with the 21st century for the first week of the Championships, the BBC moved outside the studio (modern) into the members-only Gatsby Club (nothing ostentatious about that) .
Wimbledon 2day is also on Twitter now, announces Balding on the inaugural show, so viewers can get involved using the hashtag #anyonefortennis, #NoI'mNotKidding.
Socially awkward
While the introduction of a more open format is welcome, you can't help but feel the BBC at Wimblers is "embracing" social media with the same enthusiasm as the Queen hugging a homeless person.
Last week, the show also featured a handpicked audience of tennis fans (inclusive), only it appeared mandatory for all to wear sunglasses on their heads and for all the women to be sheep-dipped in St Tropez.
In fairness, they did manage to squeeze in at least one person who looked like they shopped at Iceland or bought a lottery ticket, so not everyone looks like they are on LOL basis with Sam Cam. However, viewers at home got so vexed by the new set-up that the Beeb had to backtrack, axing the audience for week two and moving proceedings to a new studio overlooking Centre Court.
Right-oh, let’s get some experts on. First up, it’s overgrown teenager Lindsay Davenport and sexy squirrel eyes John Mac Enroe. Oh and they’ve added walk-on music (edgy). And what’s that they are sitting on – white breakfast stools. See? Nothing stuffy about us.
Balding cracks a few weather jokes and then it’s down to the exciting stuff. Two athletes staring each other down in a mental and physical death match played with upside-down air guitars and a ball about the size of your last Labrador’s tumour.
First up is Andy Moody Murray. Or at least a discussion of Murray with more experts, this time it’s Martina Navratilova (the nine-time Wimbledon singles winner who seems to be ageing backwards like Benjamin Button) and Tim crack-like-an- egg Henman, both of whom are incredibly knowledgeable and seem like decent people.
Balding wants to talk about Murray, who the All-England Lawn Tennis Club were a bit reluctant to adopt as their darling, chiefly because when he first came on the scene as a dorky teenager, he wasn’t what the SW19 club had envisaged as the saviour of UK tennis. He was sweary and fiery and once told a BBC interviewer that he’d support anyone playing against England in the World Cup. But they soon forgave him all that when he started winning stuff (including the Olympics).
Murray continued to rock the conservative tennis world to its core when he hired a woman (Amélie Mauresmo) as his coach. Now Mauresmo's gone and got pregnant, so she'll be a total mess in the locker room crying and demanding foot rubs.
Not very English
Even more sensationally, Balding announces, Murray's gone and got himself a shrink to help with his game. Navratilova and Henman seem to think this is a rather good idea, as the sport requires as much mental strength as it does physical prowess, but banging on about mental health is Not very English is it? (Oh wait, Murray is from Dunblane). Still, shouldn't one rather keep all that sort of thing under lock and key like mamma and pappa did with mad Auntie Gwendolyn?
Anyway, now it’s time for what the BBC at Wimbledon does best – montages.
Cue emotive piano soundtrack and melodramatic slow-mo shots of Murray cast in shadow (signifying his inner battle with the dark side). There’s footage of Murray crying (clearly unstable) after doing what no other Briton had managed in 77 years and winning Wimbledon in 2013, followed by more slow-mo action shots (there’s so much slo-mo, I sometimes have to stand up and bang the side of the box to make sure it isn’t on the blink again).
They do mange to squeeze in at least 30 seconds of actual play, but it’s hard because all BBC camera operators are under strict instructions to cut to Murray’s wife Almost Kate Middleton in the VIP box for a reaction shot after every point.
Now let’s switch to Court Number 1 where manbot Roger Federer, a 33-year-old grandmother hidden inside a Swiss-engineered body, is being a total gentleman with his excellent etiquette and beautifully conditioned hair.
And there’s just enough time for a quick montage of the great British public (you know, the peasants who stand in line for hours for their tickets). It’s all so quintessentially British isn’t it? Queuing and social hierarchies; as quintessentially British as afternoon tea or Benedict Cumberbatch. Look at them on Murray Mound with their M&S scones (pronounced “scons”) with lashings and lashings of cream while cheering on our great white hope (back in the studio, a klaxon sounds in Balding’s ear, followed by warning from the producer that she’s already said the word “white” once and must mention Jo Wilfred Tsonga or Serena Williams or that fun chap with the dreadlocks who beat Nadal).
Yikes, out of time. That's all from Wimbledon 2day folks, says Balding as the credits roll. Oh God, no! What's happening? Sound the klaxon. Somebody stop this. I thought we'd agreed to cancel the parade of swans wearing Chopard necklaces gargling Bollinger and balancing trays of Beluga caviar on their beaks?
Oh mummy. #PimmsAnyone?
