The imperial bosom is swelling with pride right now, and the object of my patriotic fervour is a 14-year-old tennis player called Laura Robson. As I write, I still don't know if she won her match in the Wimbledon final against a Thai girl with an impossibly difficult name, but it really doesn't matter. Our Laura played the game of her life, by turns brilliant and dogged, and has already brought glory to Queen and Country and The Old Scrote, not necessarily in that order.
Sure I had tears in my eyes as I watched the match. She's exceptional, special. Bless the child.
I might even go on google and see if her interests include moth-trapping.