Andy Murray: 'I played like a pansy, a great mincing poofter'

As the dust settled at the end of the first week of the Australian Open, experts agreed that it's now one of the worst starts to the year for British tennis since records began. Teenage prodigy Andrew Murray, carrying the hopes of the nation on his shoulders, has inexplicably flopped at back to back tournaments downunder, making an embarrassing early exit twice in a row from a post-match interview that went horribly wrong.

First it was the Heineken Open in Auckland where Murray was woefully out of sorts, misfiring badly with a series of cheap shots that failed to hit their target, until he found himself facing sudden death in front of the highly emancipated New Zealand crowd. "I was crap," he admitted, "I played like a pansy, a great mincing poofter." There was a stunned silence. "No, I didn't mean it," he countered desperately, "I take it back. I meant I was absolute shite, I played like a woman, as if I had a bloody great pair of tits on, hampering my every move."

With howls of protestation filling the stadium Murray bowed out ignominously, suffering for the first time the humiliation and boos of failing to live up to his fans' unreasonably high expectations.

Then it was on to Melbourne and the first grand slam event of the year, where the rumbustious Scot was asked if he would be making any change to his game plan after his shock dismissal the previous week. Murray was having none of it, unswervingly committed to the hard-hitting, swashbuckling style which had won him so many plaudits the previous year and seen him shoot up the world rankings from nowhere to number 62. "It's not my fault if those fat kiwi cows have all their brains in their udders and can't understand my British sense of humour," he explained.

Yet in the very first round Murray bombed again, his darting, rapier thrusts proving ineffectual following a straight sets defeat to world number 41 Juan Ignacio Chela. Seasoned reporters who mercilessly taunted the rising young star by asking him for his opinion on the match were amazed at the naive tactics of the British player, who lost his composure and rounded on his opponents, telling them to go and fuc*k themselves.

"You're all the same, you fuc*king tossers," he commented. "You go around building me up before the match saying how good I am and how much you'd like me to win but do any of you lift a finger to help me? Like fuc*k you do! This guy's twenty places above me for fuc*k's sake! He's a much better player than I am, yet not one of you had the guts to show me some real support, to get out there before the game and nobble the bastard. You can all go and fuc*k yourselves!" he reiterated, with a dismissive two-fingered gesture in illustration.

Unsurprisingly this abject performance was greeted with further howls of derision, and Murray shuffled miserably off-stage, contemplating a premature fall from grace and out of the top 100. "There's a lot of pressure on me," he was forced to admit later. "I have to watch every single word I say."

Questions are now being asked about whether the talented Scot has the temperament to succeed at the highest level. After a stern talking-to by his mum the teenage star has vowed to improve. And in a bid to stop the rot before it puts paid to a glorious career the battling young buccaneer has sacked his coach and brought in the former great British white hope Tim Henman who's been through the mill himself in his time and seen it all before. The ageless Wimbledon stalwart, still picking up world-ranking points by playing in every competition going around the globe, is the ideal choice to help the embattled youngster sharpen up his game.

Over the hill

After treating his fans to many hair-raising cliff-hangers over the years, prompting heart attacks on Henman Hill as he tortuously stuttered his way into the quarter finals time after time only to get beat, Tim's game has moved onto another level in the past eighteen months since hitting thirty and finally getting over the hill. The highly respected British number one, known to his many close friends on the circuit as Gentleman Tim, now surrenders without any fuss in the early rounds to players ranked two hundred places below him as matter of common courtesy, and in order to conserve his energy for the trials of the intimidating press conference afterwards.

The hothouse atmosphere of these merciless inquests, the relentless barrage of questions, the queries of "where did it all go wrong?" is the most feared hurdle for the modern player to overcome and has proved the graveyard of many a promising career. Henman himself found them difficult in the past when his gallant first-round defeats were still punctuated by half-credible tilts at a title, but he now trips lightly through the gauntlet of inquiry without shedding a bead of perspiration or getting a hair out of place, disarming the most tenacious inquisitor with a perfectly judged "pass", or pleasing the crowd with an exquisite volley of insight into the dynamics of his latest match, such as "the spirit was willing but the flesh was weak".

By stripping away the first five sets from his pre-match preparation and focusing relentlessly on the all-important post mortem Henman has gained a unique reputation amongst his peers as the unofficial world champion in the etiquette of first round exitry. It is this impeccable composure in defeat which the seasoned campaigner has been called upon to impart to the precociously talented Murray to smooth away the rough edges of his game.

Long-suffering Murray mum Judy is delighted that her wayward son will finally be "getting back to basics" with Gentleman Tim, belatedly acquiring the good manners and technique that will keep him from "getting mixed up with the wrong sort of crowd like that brute Roger Federer who never gives the other boys a chance".

If Murray can learn from his mentor and harness the elder man's deft handling of the press to his undoubted talent with the racket he will develop into a true champion of the very first round and British tennis fans can look forward to a smooth succession of exemplary early exits for a decade to come.

Previously

• Recipe of the week: Henman Surprise
• Woman's hair flick to blame for Rusedski loss
• Kangaroo tramples Tiger