I saw Tim Henman playing tennis on tv.
Tim Henman, despite playing tennis for like 40 years or whatever, has not once won Wimbledon. He just sort of hangs around. He's not good enough to be brilliant, and yet, he's not crap enough to be forced out of tennis to persue a less humiliating carreer, like teacher, or that guy who stands on Picadilly Circus with the "Golf Sale" sign. Man, I wish that I had that job. But no. Tim enters Wimbledon every year, wins one match against the latest Swedo-Germanic 14 year old hotshot, looks really impressive, then goes out in the semis. I don't know why he never wins. He doesn't seem that bad at tennis.
I mean, he has the requisite tennis moves. He hits the ball over the net with his club whenever the occasion calls for it to be hit over the net. He moves about a bit. He waggles his arms theatrically. He sweats a bit. And then he has his special Henman victory move whenever he wins an important point. Actually, he has two. Greedy or what? He doesn't have just the ONE celebration move, he has TWO. I bet there are tennis players out there who don't even have ONE victory dance. You know, the retarded ones who never win. Like Stephen Hawking. I bet Stephen Hawking doesn't have a tennis victory dance. Or Christopher Reeve. Or that woman on tv with no arms. Or legs.
But yet, Tim HAS two victory maneuvers, the greedy twat:
1: The Fist Pump
Whenever a totally important point has been won, he does his very fancy little fist pumping action.
How to do a Henman Fist Pump
Stand up STRAIGHT, and hold your arm out straight in front of you. Then make a fist. This can be achieved by curving the four longer fingers down so that the finger nails are touching the edge of the palm. Not too far, dears, or you'll hurt yourself. Hands can be dangerous things. Just ask that guy in Evil Dead 2. Then fold the THUMB over the fingers, just below the knuckle of the index finger, so that the ball of your thumb is just touching the second finger.
Done that? Ok, you've made a fist. You just passed stage one of Mugging for Dummies.
Then, WITHOUT BREAKING THE FIST, move the fisted arm downwards so that it is parallel to the rest of your body. Now comes the tricky bit. BEND YOUR ELBOW, WITHOUT BREAKING THE FIST, so that your forearm, with fist attached, is as far bent towards your head as it can get. The fist should now be a few inches away from your chin, unless, of course, you have freakishly proportioned arms/are Cassie/are that stupid torso-woman I previously mentioned. Get out of here, you freaks. Back to Papa Lazarou. Your arm is now in position A.
Now comes the REALLY hard bit, that requires several distinct movements. Look down at your fist, so that you are nearly kissing it. THEN, slowly more your forearm, so that the fist has been taken away from the lips. Then, RAPIDLY swing the arm back into position A, as though you were going to punch yourself in the face.
Do not punch yourself in the face.
Instead, hiss the word "YES" really quietly and look intensely at your fist. You can repeat this action as many times as you like but, to be honest, 0 times is probably the most you'll ever need to do it.
Congratulations, you have sucessfully done The Fist Pump, Henman Move Number 1. Here's a picture of the great man in question, so you can see it being done by a pro:
See the form? See the angry scowl? Now that's a man who's not gonna punch himself in the face. Eye of the tiger, my son.
2: The Nothing
Just sort of gaze aimlessly into space. Look like you're about to cry. Sweat a lot. Now you might not think that this is a particular move, but Tim has managed make the intense scowl at nothing to an artform. My man. Here he is, in fine form:
That's a man with a burning stare. Miaow, pussycat. *Bites the air*
Why am I doing this? Why have I devoted a good twenty minutes taking the piss out of Tim Henman? I mean, he might be a loser, but, hey, at least he's a British Loser. Better than one of those fucking American losers. Or, even worse, christ, an eskimo loser. That reminds me, what do you call an eskimo cow? And eskimoo. God, I'm like, SO funny. He may be a loser, but, hey, he has a fan club and a hill named after him. I wish that I could get a fan club and a hill named after me, for failing to win a load of tennis matches.
Perhaps the name. Many of the great comic creations of history have been English, losers, and called Tim:
Tim from The Office
Tim from Spaced
Yeah, that's all I have. But perhaps it's just the Britishness of being a loser that makes our losers better than the rest of the world's:
The entire cast of The Office
Shaun (of the dead) Riley
Rodney Trotter
That guy who was in that tv show
The Royal Family are pretty lame, to be honest
Geoff Tipps from League of Gentlemen
The two guys who sing the 'London Underground' have been screwed by the London underground
Basil Fawlty
Arthur Dent from Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
Those guys with the big hats who patrol Buckingham Palace are quite shit. Especially that one twat who yelled at me because I tried to walk around his horse. Cunt.
I'm sure that most of the Monty Python characters were pretty loserish
And lots more, I'm sure
But this proves my point: Being a loser is funny, as long as you're British. This is why the American version of The Office will FAIL. Or had better do, because I'll be damned if the Americans are ever beating the English on pathetic hilariousness. The thing is, the Americans have to give their losers redeeming characteristics. Like Seth from the OC, which I have recently become addicted to. Now Seth is beautiful (not hunky, he looks too much like a woman for that), he has two fittamarianly fit girls vying for his lovin', he's funny, he lives in a massive house, he has amusing hair, and his dad has MASSIVE eyebrows. He's basically me, except without the beautiful women, eyebrows, house, or the beautiful part. So basically I'm a funny, funny guy. With silly hair. So how does that make him a loser? Christ. Fucking America.
The inverse is true. Britains hate winners. If, by some amazing coincidence, Tim managed to win Wimbledon (I don't know, every other opponant is simultaneously hit by lightning, or the authorities take pity on him and create a 'Tim Henman Cup for People Whose Name is Tim Henman'), I guarantee that Henman Hill would be deserted next year. Man, we are such a mean spirited country. Brilliant.
And all this makes me feel better about my list of failures. I mean, at least they're funny, unlike Steph's, which was just depressing. "I failed to not hurt the people who deserved it the least". Wow, way to fail to not make me want to staple my own eyelids, babe. I've failed to care about you're list of failures. You're failed to comprehent the inherent comedy in typing up a list of your failures. Did you notice that I failed to get into the Third Eight a grand total of four times? FOUR TIMES. I'm so shit. Wow, that's lame. And, me being british, the list of failures means that I'm funny and amusing, as opposed to being pathetic and aids-ridden. THE FACT THAT I HAVEN'T WON ANY MEDALS UP TO TODAY MAKES ME A WINNER IN THE EYES OF THE BRITISH PEOPLE.
Which made it all the more depressing when I got THIS today:
Yes, that's right, I am the proud recipiant of a Marlow Regatta 150 Years medal. Made of solid porclean, partially glazed, with a lovely cheapo link and a scratchy red ribbon that doesn't even fit around my head, you can SMELL the effort that went into mass producing these as cheaply as possible. This truly is worth my four hundred hours of hard training. And I can certainly say that I worked hard for this medal, it being one of those 'Let's Just Give a Medal to Everyone who Made it into a Final, Including All the Crews that were in a Straight Final' medals. Like 'Everyone gets a Trophy' Day. So basically, I get a cheapo medal for just showing up. Now when that's your entire medal collection, it isn't good for the self esteem.
So not only does that make me feel a HEAP better about my utter failure at rowing, it also achieves the joint goal of ruining my excellent run of being a loser. Now, no longer can I say "I've been rowing for three years and I've won NOTHING!". Now I have to say "I've been rowing for three years and I've won NOTHING except that one medal which we got by default!"
Kind of ruins it.
So, basically, as soon as I realise that being unsuccessful at rowing is funny, God ruins it by giving me the most lame rowing accolade known to man. Nice one, God.
Fun Fact: My mother once babysat the infant Tim Henman. Which means that Tim Henman was, possibly, practise for me. Ooh.
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