SWIPESODIT

I have recently taken up Badminton. I already play tennis to an awesomely average standard so I thought 'How hard can it be to play Badminton?'. The answer is - very hard.

My main problem is timing the overheads. The opponents have quickly learned that hitting the shuttle cock high above my head will usually both win them the point and also afford them some amusement as I inevitably make a violent smash at the thing and miss by a mile. The smallest of flies hovering above my head will be dead in a split second as my racquet thrashes through the air but the falling shuttlecock which is the size of my fist is totally safe from harm.

As a result of this, I tend to be on the losing side. The session is organised by asking one of the players to pick their four. I see them scan down the line of expectant faces rather like a client might in a house of pleasure, but it is as though I am invisible.

This takes me back to my schooldays. My talent for football was on a par with my skill at ballet dancing so when two football captains chose their teams from the remaining 20 players, I waited agog to discover whether I would be last to be selected as usual or whether I would be chosen 19th which afforded me the pleasure of giving number 20 a look of disdain.

I have some friends who are bad at golf and who tell me that the usual sound heard when they swing their club is the whoosh of the club through the air followed by an expletive. The swearing is because the ball either flies a short distance in the wrong direction or else stays put with a sigh of relief. Because of this, they say that they don't play 'golf', instead they play 'swish-bugger-it'. In the same spirit, I have decided that I don't play 'Badminton', I play 'swipe-sod-it'.