NOW that this year's grunting is all but over, let's look ahead and see what changes can be introduced for 2013.
For a start, let's move the tournament to Scotland where we know how to do rain properly. We're all fed up with that overpriced southern stuff. Probably Evian anyway. And let's play through the rain. Roof schmoof, who needs it? It's too slow anyway – slower even than your second serve, like the one you did last Tuesday which still hasn't reached your mate's side of the court. People say there isn't enough volleying any more – well, once those puddles appear, that'll force them to volley.
Raise the net to badminton height. Ha! Not so good at serving now, are you, big boy? Let the ball boys and girls grunt too. Or replace them with Pudsey from Britain's Got Talent. Can't you just see him running along the net, doing a little pirouette before dropping the ball at the players' feet (but mind where you tread on court guys – ah, really sorry, Rafa, it'll wash off).
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Have the Red Arrows fly over when Murray's opponent serves at match point. Or, if they've been made redundant in the cutbacks, have Sir Cliff start to sing at the same moment. Make the players play in national dress. Have Federer's aces announced by cuckoo clock. Forget doubles – let's have quadruples. Introduce the offside rule. And penalty serve-outs instead of the tie-break which no-one understands. Mow the grass during the match. Come on, I thought you said you were a champion – just play round him, man!
Put whoopee cushions in the Royal Box. Too late. Harry's already done this. Let the crop circle people in overnight, so that when the players come out there's a big Smiley on Centre Court. When the umpire says "New balls, please", use some of those giant ones that the autograph hunters have.
Let a couple of those popular Higgs Bosons on to the court to see if anyone notices. Spike the players' Robinsons with vodka. "Nevermind 'Djokovic', this is more like 'Drunkovic'. Extraordinary scenes here. Oh my God, he's kissing one of the ball girls!"
Finally, after an hour or so, have some bloke come on to the court, mid-rally, a little roll-up hanging off his bottom lip. "Come on, you two. Hop it now. You've had an extra half-hour as it is. This one's booked from six-"