Wimbledon fortnight is upon us once again. Exorbitantly priced strawberries, vain hope that one of our mediocre sports-people will bring glory back to Britannia and, of course, all that grunting and groaning. They're hitting a winning backhand: you close your eyes and conjure up an altogether different picture. Believe… read more…

Glitterditch doesn't usually do sport. We prefer activities of a more languid variety. You won't be surprised to learn that we were always picked last for the team at school and regularly got a right royal kicking by the jock meatheads, as a warm-up to them giving each other… read more…