Saturday at the tennis courts and things are busy. The tennis coach is teaching kids to play tennis on court 4 and I no longer envy him. He obviously has only one pneumatic adult client and I can't blame him for making the most of that one hour a week. He has earned it.
The other three courts were also taken and two men were already waiting. We sat in the car and looked on at the courts full of players. Some men were playing. "The FA Cup is about to start and all these men are playing tennis. Are they gay?" I said. I am the only heterosexual man in the world who isn't that interested in football, apart from watching York City on Ceefax.
We sat in the car for five minutes. I was thinking we should probably give up on tennis, as I didn't have long to play as I had to head off for an industrial estate in Newbury to perform to almost 70 quite easily shockable people (not that I knew that then). But as we prevaricated court one became free and the two (gay?) men went on to play.
I realised we might get a game in time, but as we made our way round to the other side of the courts, another two (gay?) men arrived on some bikes. Although they had arrived at the door to the courts first, we had actually been waiting longer than them. I knew tennis court etiquette dictated that they would now play first. I could have argued with them, perhaps reminding them that their very presence here was casting some doubt on their sexuality, but tennis court etiquette is the most middle class example of the most middle class concept in the world and there was no way I could justifiably argue our case, even though God looking down from his Heaven above would know that we should truly be next. But alas God is not gay and so would have been watching the pre-match commentary of the FA Cup and probably putting some crisps or communion wafers in a bowl and drinking cherryade or Jesus's blood depending on his mood.
Two small boys who had been playing quickly stopped (to go and see the FA Cup presumably, a relief I am sure for their dads, who I am sure were liberal enough to accept it if their sons were homosexual, but still human enough to be relieved when they turned out to be straight). But court number 3 belonged to the gays. We had to hope that the couple of court 2 would stop playing soon. Otherwise there was no option for at least an hour. Surely this man could not be gay. He was playing with a woman. Only a straight man could do that. But what if he hadn't yet slept with the woman and was trying to impress her by playing tennis with her and not watching football like all the other idiotic men. If he was not gay and missed the FA Cup then she would have to sleep with him. That was my plan with my tennis partner, who was not to know the truth that I am not acutally all that bothered about football. It's a win/win situation.
We watched court 2 like hawks who were hoping to play tennis (those kind of hawks), but there was no way of telling if the couple were just starting or just finishing. They certainly weren't playing a match, which suggested they were still warming up and yet they looked bored and lackadaisical. I have never seen two people enjoying playing a game less than this pair. In fact it looked like they were both involved in some chore that they hoped to avoid, or worse that they really wanted to stop, but the only pleasure they were getting from the experience was preventing us getting on to the court for a game.
But surely they wouldn't be so petty. Would they?
I kept staring, willing them to go, or at least to start playing a match so we knew there was no hope of us getting a game. Instead they just kept weakly knocking the ball in the rough direction of each other, whilst looking glum. Maybe the woman was a lesbian and actually wanted to watch the FA Cup and the man far from impressing her with his decision to give up football for her, was just irritating her. Who knows?
I noticed that the couple also only had two tennis balls, which is a ridiculously ill-equipped way to go about playing a game of tennis. So after more or less every point they had to go in search of a ball to play the next one with. At this rate we'd never ever get a game.
But just as I was about to give up and the tennis coach had passed by and said hello, (he's my friend now), and commented that the weather could break at any minute, the couple finally gave up the ghost and we got out hour on the court. I missed the first half of the FA Cup, but failed to cash in on the free one sex that I was owed as I had to head off to my gig. But that one sex is in the bag now, unless my tennis partner reads this and realises that I don't actually like football and thus do not deserve a reward for my sacrifice. I suppose she might not read this and still conclude that I only missed half the match because of her and so she only owes me half a sex.
Well as long as it is the second half of a sex I don't mind.