Is Serena Williams Fat, Lazy and Skanky Enough to Win the French Open?

I have a cold at the moment. It's kind of fun, I'm sitting here rocking gently from side to side so that I can hear the fluid in my lungs slosh about. My work colleagues have been overwhelmingly sympathetic with comments like, "Don't breathe on me", "You sound dreadful" and "Why did you come in?" Back at home the cat has been ignoring the hacking, retching and self pitying moans and point blank refuses to bring me hot soup in bed. Honestly I don't know why I keep her around.

Strangely with the exception of the actual symptoms I feel pretty good. I have never felt more alert which is a surprise because I have dozed off three times today already. Fortunately I woke up before the train passed my stop. That probably means I will have difficulty getting to sleep tonight but don't worry, I have a secret weapon. The French Open tennis tournament started this week. I'm not crazy about the French Open but as a cure for insomnia it beats every sleeping pill in the world.

I watched the first set of Serena Williams' match against (insert competitors name here) last night. Actually "watched" is a generous term. I saw the first couple of games and woke up just after Williams had taken the tie breaker. Then I went to bed. The trouble with the French Open is they play it on clay. This means that rather than wait for a commercial break you can actually go to the bathroom after the ball is served and be back in your armchair before its been returned. Lendl and Wilander played a final one year where I managed to read a newspaper while the ball was travelling from one baseline to the other. Watching the French Open is like watching people play tennis knee deep in mud.

I did see enough of the tennis yesterday to hear the commentators providing their usual Williams Sister Commentary. Williams Sister Commentary runs like this; you have to comment on their clothes, their motivation, their injuries and how fat they are. If you're Roger Rasheed you can toss in a couple of comments about their tits and arse as well. You may occasionally touch on the tennis if you need to mention something so vulgar in order to emphasise your point about their clothing, weight, tits etcetera but don't make a habit of it. There is a great deal of opportunity for Williams Sister Commentary because they win so often that you get a lot of chances to say things about them. If you didn't watch any of the matches but simply listened to the commentary you would get the impression that all these titles were being won by fat, lazy, semi crippled tarts with poor taste in clothing. In actual fact only the last of these is true. And now I've ruined the point I was trying to make because I have commented on the Williams sisters clothing.

I like watching the Williams sisters play (either of them). Their combination of power, touch and speed has to be seen to be believed. Even when they lose they never fail to be a commanding presence on any court they walk onto. Tennis needs more people like Venus and Serena Williams and fewer tennis commentators. Even the French Open can't be completely tedious when one of the Williams sisters is struggling through the mud, I mean clay. I also like the fact that the umpire makes the calls in French. It is after all the French Open and a few gestures like that can help the French to pretend their country still has relevance. Its also fun watching the players staring at the scoreboard to help them figure out what the umpire just said.

I know I have disparaged the French Open in the above but put it down to either fever or possibly too much ibuprofen. I actually love the French Open because when I see it telecast it reminds me that Wimbledon is just around the corner.