Sweet Nothings

I put the French Open tennis on at lunchtime to follow Andy Murray's hopeful progress, and he duly despatched plucky young Croatian Marin Cilic fairly comfortably in three sets. The real story was to come though - Senor Nadal, red-hot favourite and unbeaten at Roland Garros, was a set down to Sweden's Robin Soderling (above - phwooar!). And blow me down if, after an enthralling afternoon's viewing, the impressively-muscled Swede didn't dump poor Rafa out of the tournament. The top seed was some way off top form but "Sod" (as the onscreen graphic rather unfairly referred to him) was blasting winners from all angles in what must have been the game of his life. Unfortunately, any enjoyment that derives from watching the French Open is tempered somewhat by the crowd. Now, the French have many qualities as a race, but politeness and humility are some way down the list. Any player at Roland Garros who dares to question a line call is subjected to a barrage of whistl

Cast your mind back to a few months ago: MPs were copping a bit of flack for not being all that bothered about regulating the financial system, but the bankers were held ultimately responsible for the economy going tits up, and Fred Goodwin was public enemy number one. Fred of course did nothing illegal in collecting his final salary pension despite nearly overseeing the demise of his bank, just as most of the MPs involved in the current expenses scandal/fiasco haven't broken any rules, strictly speaking. But the ire aimed at the hyper-rich City boys was nothing compared to the toxic atmosphere of Question Time on Thursday night, where poor Menzies Campbell, Margaret Beckett and Teresa May were like lambs to the slaughter, trying in vain to answer for the sins of their colleagues in the face of a truly poisonous audience. Michael Portillo said he'd never seen a Question Time like it - it was a bear pit and seemed like a true tipping point. There are always bitter and bigoted l

Last night was a tale of two thoroughly disagreeable men getting their just desserts. The Chelsea-Barcelona game was dominated by several borderline penalty shouts, none of which the ref gave Chelsea's way. Statistically the billionaire's boys can count themselves unlucky, but the ref's biggest mistake was sending Eric Abidal off after Monsieur Anelka had quite blatantly tripped himself up. Chelsea were unable to put the 10-man opponents away and paid the ultimate price in the best - and funniest - possible finish. If anyone had any doubts as to why the West Londonders are so roundly despised, they only had to witness the disgraceful petulance of Ballack, Terry and especially Drogba, who could have put the tie to bed if he'd actually finished a chance or not gone down like a sack of shite at the slightest touch. He looked utterly demented after the final whistle with his charging around and hurling abuse at the officials, not to mention the delightful "fucking disg