So far, so good. It’s not a proper final without a wobble that draws an uneasy silence from the crowd - is Oliver Wilkinson about to lose his first game in the entire Aegon Championship? At love-forty, it’s looking pretty bad. 96.5% of the spectators have their eyes on the twenty three year old, waiting with utterly bated breath. There are a couple
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anyway HE IS THROWING HIMSELF INTO WHEREVER IT IS ON THE QUEEN'S CLUB GROUNDS THAT TEAM WILKINSON HANG and voila just the man he was looking for! ]
Barney! You! Grab your stuff, Team Wilkinson's going out, and there is nothing you can do or say that will get you out of this. Except perhaps if you die, but don't you dare or I'll resuscitate you just so you can feel me punching you in the face.
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[he's grinning and completely bemused by what Ollie's just said - dying and punching and what? He puts it down to an adrenaline-fuelled delirium and laughs]
What, now?
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[ ... wait ]
Well, okay, no, first we're going to the hotel, dropping off all our stuff and I personally want to get out my charming, sweaty tennis whites, but then we are going straight out. Like, immediately.
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...Congratulations about that, by the way!
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