Roger Federer? £700,000 for getting balls over a net (I used to know  a woman called Annette and she never let me) watched by a packed centre court who paid £700,000 each for the privilege of muttering 'gosh' and 'splendid'. And what about those line judges in their snazzy blazers and white trousers? I mean to say, with everybody forking out that much money, couldn't the organisers do better than raiding the set of Brideshead Revisited?

And we have a British champion, well half of one anyway, with Jamie Murray and Jelena Jankovic winning the mixed doubles. In these politically correct times, I think the toffs who organise Wimbledon might have had the decency to rename the event as the 'straight' doubles along with the 'gay' (the players would have no problems holding up the new balls) and 'lesbian' doubles. Apparently Jamie and Jelena may well be an 'item', with Jamie's mum telling the BBC he had asked for an extra place to be set at the Christmas dinner table. As the late Sid James would have undoubtedly chortled in Carry on Wimbledon: "I'd like to see 'er pulling his cracker."

I couldn't get to any museum in London over the weekend (actually I mean the betting shop, my regular Saturday haunt). Hey, there's an idea - 'Saturday morning in a betting shop', the new interactive art display from Damien Hirst with paper-mache models of blokes in the act of tearing up their slips while the woman behind the counter is chewing gum and reading a copy of OK magazine. Back to the problem - the capital was overrun with blokes in tight lycra displaying their lunch boxes. Nope, Gay Pride was last weekend, this was the Prologue. The Prologue? Wasn't that the opening bit of the old TV series Up Pompeii when Frankie Howerd waxed lyrical? Oh come on now, Le Tour was majestically sent on its way in Londres watched by hordes of British cycle  aficionados who think a yellow jersey is an outbreak of jaundice on one of the Channel Islands.

The least SkyTV could have done was provide subtitles when Paul Collingwood spoke at the presentation ceremony'

Nice to see English cricket returning to normal with a drubbing at the hands of the West Indies. With the match over, the last few overs were played before one of those old Windies Test fields with more slips than a Turkish house of ill repute. Poor old Paul Collingwood, thrust into a captaincy he was not cut out for; he was way out of his depth. The least SkyTV could have done was provide subtitles when he spoke at the presentation ceremony. There must be fluent Geordie speakers who can do simultaneous translation. Isn't Paul Gascoigne looking for out to scran?

Is he or isn't he going to Manchester? I'll bet Sir Alex will finalise the Carlos Tevez deal this week. Imagine that, Tevez and Wayne Rooney terrorising the opposition and then going off for a mega chicken combo at the Dixie Fried Chicken outlet in Wythenshawe. I bet Wayne bags all the baked beans for himself.

Finally to Colin Montgomerie who won the European Open at the weekend to record his 40th tournament victory in a 20-year career. Why, he even passed Nick Faldo's 30 European Tour wins. But unless something dramatic happens to the form our amply built hero, he will always be reminded of how his career has not quite reached the great heights each time the traffic update comes on the radio: "Major problems...."