A young, smartly dressed man is walking through the well-manicured grounds of Wimbledon, carefully carrying a couple of championship-branded plastic glasses and two half bottles of champagne. They are covered by tennis ball sleeves.
When asked how much they cost, he stops. “I don’t know, actually,” he says. He looks at the credit card receipt: £92. “Well, it’s champagne,” he shrugs. “At an event like this, that isn’t bad.”