BBC's Wimbledon warm-up bodes ill for couch zombies

TV View: It's that time of year again when opticians are suddenly in demand. For a fortnight Wimbledon means every serve, slice and spin will be dissected with the fervour of the true amateur as we try to follow the small yellow balls. That is once we've tuned our peepers in.

The players might use the Stella Artois at the Queen's Club to get their eye in ahead of the great tournament, but so too do we couch zombies who have just endured the French Open.

On the clay of Roland Garros, there were rallies and exchanges that were only marginally less excruciating than the Boer War. But on grass the players go at it the way a German paratrooper goes at his blitzkrieg.

"Aaargh . . . thunk . . . aeeeigh . . . 15-love" is the narrative for most points.

The point is that by day four at Queen's, most of us were up to seeing the ball twice or even three times per game.

But the BBC wanted to exceed its mandate.

"The future of British tennis!" trilled Sue Barker as two young men called Ian Flanagan and John Marray lined up for a brief stab at celebrity. With Henman out, there was no other choice.

It's a conundrum our neighbours have never come to terms with: having one of the four top tournaments in the world does not automatically mean having one of the four top players. Rather like Lazarus coming forth, and instead managing fifth, they have the number five player. But that, it seems, isn't enough.

Flanagan arrived with the BBC commentator Andrew Castle, who doubles as his coach. They made their way past a collection of bemused schoolgirls.

"You lot should be in school!" boomed Castle, clearly concerned that a spontaneous eruption of a new Beatlemania was about to rip his charge apart. The disinterested girls gazed back, clearly wondering if the camera was following the old geezer or the youngfella who was clearly just a bit player in his show.

Castle is one of these people who makes a gift of his personality to us all. No thought is unimportant enough to be kept to himself.

An earlier dissection of Goran Ivanisevic's career ended with his Wimbledon-winning year, which, according to Castle, "was almost meant to be - even though I really don't believe in that sort of thing myself."

Now he was intent on giving Flanagan, and the audience looking in, some more pearls.

"Take a look around," he told the player as they stood in the middle of the empty centre court. "Soon there will be 7,000 people here watching you. Embrace it!"

Flanagan looked like he would rather embrace a puff adder, which was not encouraging for the future of British tennis. Sure enough, he found himself up against Sebastian Grosjean, himself a former world number five who has been in three Grand Slam semi-finals. This was a Frenchman that the Rosbif protege knew how to lose to.

"The first England-France clash of the week," chortled Sue, only heightening the sense of impending doom. Sure enough, Grosjean won the first set 6-2. Then he got serious and won the second 6-0.

"A Premier Division player compared to a second- or third-division player," sniffed Castle in friendly fashion.

Another man not slow to share himself with us is Ile Nastase, but at least the Romanian gurn factory hasn't Castle's deadly earnestness. After a lifetime of pulling faces, Ile's latest one is a rather endearing Terry Thomas-type old letch. It was in such form he plugged his book in a break between matches.

"A viewer wants to know the secret of your success with the ladies," said Sue, with just a little too much breeziness. This is a woman, after all, whose youth included a link with Cliff Richard. Ile, even gone to seed, is no Cliff.

"Long hair," said Ile, gazing meaningfully back at Sue. "Long legs and . . ."

"Here's Johnny Marray," said Sue, who sounded as if she was rearranging her hair.

Marray sounded like he'd spent some of his 23 years down pit, and had the tan to prove it. But at least he put up a fight against Leighton Hewitt to lose in two tie-breaks. Castle suddenly had a new pal.

"That was great."

"Yeah, I stuck to my game plan," said Marray. "I'm pretty happy."

"So you should be."

As he spoke, Hewitt was in a courtesy car, heading back to his hotel to prepare for the next round having told Castle that if he played like he just had again then he wouldn't stand a chance.

No doubt some level of meaning can be taken from the two responses, but your reporter left before Castle could tell him. After all, there is a lot more of this to come.