Serious in-depth coverage of sporting issues at the Mail, with a run-down of tennis tottie through the years.
Roger Federer and Rafa Nadal might be judged on their groundstrokes or volleying; for the female competitors at this year's Wimbledon, however, it's T&A that decides how much coverage they really get. Forget that Ana Ivanovic won the French Open - her only actual ability is how good she looks in a little dress. The Mail publishes a set of photos of her and other women tennis players down the years, with pictures which, despite being two inches across, are available to enlarge even further - a clever way to rack up more clicks while the sherried-up dodderers who foam over this sort of bullshit get themselves into a frenzy under the tartan blankets...
Fasten your safety belts, we're heading back to the 1970s. Grab a Haunted House lolly and some Spangles and ride your chopper bike down to Daily Mail caption writing school...
Don't let her friendship with Avram Grant put you off, this Serbian smoulderer [Ivanovic] manages to come across as both sexy and the girl next door.
Likes to be photographed off court and off the shoulder.
Under each saucy caption there's a question "But can she play?" as if that's secondary to her ability to look nubile in photos. Some of the players listed were and are multiple champions - but fuck that, they're women tennis players; all they're good for is masturbatory up-skirt shots and dribbling nonsense about how they grunt when they hit the ball. All those achievements mean nothing; female tennis, according to the Mail, is all about beauty. And only heterosexual beauty, of course: there's no place for Billie-Jean or Martina in this list - this isn't about sporting skills, it's about male readers' wank fantasies.
Sure, there's room in any newspaper for fluff and candyfloss. It is the silly season, after all. But I get wearied by the lack of imagination, the overwhelming tackiness, the reduction of anything female to a pair of tits and an arse. Not much happening between now and autumn, so they trot out the same old shit, day after day. You can play newspaper summer wank bingo along with me, if you like - all those photo ops coming along at the same time every year to fill up space, from the Telegraph downwards.
Wimbledon: This year's saucy tennis siren. Pictures of some Russian who'll get nowhere but who's blonde and makes red-faced old colonels blow a gasket.
Glastonbury: What music festival? Let's find an 18-year-old girl from Surrey in a bikini top and wellies.
A-levels: Some 18-year-old girl from Surrey 'jumping for joy' in small clothing to celebrate exam results, exposing midriff to pervy photographer.
Hot weather: Ooh, it's warm in summer, fucking hell! Pictures of young women 'cooling off' at Bournemouth etc in bikinis.
I don't think I've missed any out, but you may have other suggestions.
Anyway, Maria Sharapova - tennis star? Not really:
The natural inheritor of the glamour crown previously worn by fellow Russian Kournikova. But Sharapova boasts the bigger pout, the greater grunt and the louder father.
Yes, pouting, grunting and having a dad are all prerequesites to tennis success. Just ask Bjorn Borg.
And then we have:
TATIANA GOLOVIN (2004-?)
From Russia, to Paris and now Florida with love, she has all the attributes to be a Bond girl. Just think of her as a tennis wild card.
BUT CAN SHE PLAY? Who cares?
Loaded, meet the Mail. The Mail, meet Loaded.