Oi, Djokovic…NOOOO!!!!

Rattle out of his pram

Rattle out of his pram

Apparently, world renowned tennis player, Novak Djokovic, decided to take out all his frustrations on an innocent ball girl at Wimbledon the other day growling at her: “Towel!” like some arrogant ancien regime aristocrat snapping his fingers at a servant.

Oh my days Djokovic, all that money and no class! How difficult would it have been – even for a primitive knuckle dragger – to say “towel, please”?.

If I’d been her and this arrogant multi-millionaire had thought his wealth and fame gave him the right to growl “towel” at me I would have thrown it at him and stormed off court. After all, once the trembling, noticeably on the verge of tears, 16-year-old obediently obliged, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to simply toss the sweat stained rag back at her without a care in the world.

What’s more, had one of us humble plebs literally thrown the towel at this over-privileged specimen with his uber sense of entitlement at this profoundly classist-ridden annual event, every oppressed member of the proletariat around the world would have cheered at that moment much louder than they would at any relatively insignificant, ultimately meaningless Wimbledon victory.

A revolutionary firestorm that incinerates the blood-sucking, capitalist parasites usually starts with bold, defiant sparks like this! *Ref. The Thoughts of Chairperson Becky LOL:)

Yet, had I bunged a towel right in Schmovak’s screwed-up, snarling Serbische mug, I’m sure the notoriously transphobic British press would have a veritable shit storm of a field day. Imagine the myriad of headlines that the sleaze-sucking vermin-esque journos of The Daily Tabloid could eek out of that for several weeks: “Transgirl Has Balls!” Yeah, right – hilarious….and so inventive. So *characteristically* inventive of these tomorrow’s chip paper comics for adults that they’d no doubt follow this up by running with a series of ‘exclusives’ insisting my former male name must be Angry Frank.

Ironically, courtesy of genius satirists Enfield and Whitehouse they’d instead be unknowingly staring at their own reflections. Meantime, I’d thank the stars that despite the slew of false fairy tale rumours in the cause of creating mistaken identity, I’m pretty much confident in actually being Frank and Angry – but, yes, I’d rather play away with the fairies any day;)

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