Game, Set and Match

IT must be very odd when you arrive at the Olympic tennis final in Paris, ticket in hand, and discover that the entire venue has been double-booked. Djokovic and Alcaraz are there, as expected, but the stands are heaving with an infernal assemblage of narcissists, exhibitionists and various other social misfits; each of whom is under the distinct impression that millions of viewers are tuning in to watch their own tiresome antics. The only real blessing is that Cliff Richard, the perennial scourge of Wimbledon, is currently away on his summer holidays.