The Observer Magazine would summon the supremely sarcastic talents of Clive James when it needed funny captions to go with its photo stories, and Wimbledon 1981 was as ripe as a massively overpriced punnet of strawberries (‘Clive James on the Wild Men of Wimbledon’).
‘Wimbledon is here again,’ said the intro slightly wearily, ‘time for tantrums and loutish behaviour beamed right into our living rooms to give us that familiar frisson of embarrassment at the sight of grown men behaving like petulant five-year-olds.’
