I never intended to play this year’s tennis club champs, not since my upper-arm tendons unceremoniously snapped. But the injury only slightly hampered my form, so I reluctantly agreed to a late entry in the doubles — partnering the intimidating Ant on centre court on Saturday.

Best described as a mixture of the shabby-cool chic of Mickey Rourke in Angel Heart and the mischievous menace of Ilie Nastase, Ant has quite a reputation ... for on-court cussing, left-field strategic soliloquies and questionable first aid remedies...

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