Ohhhhhhhh - Serena is in trouble.
by Robert Clements
There is a whiff of a rumour that Serena Williams doesn’t change her socks for the duration of a tournament. Considering the fact that Serena normally lasts a full five sets and is there up to the finals, her smelly socks do cause a lot of problems; attention being divided between enjoying the match and it getting over as fast as possible so that the spoilt elite can take their dainty hands away from their even daintier noses.
Tennis authorities the world over have suddenly started noticing that there has been an appreciable slump in the number of people who come to view a Serena match, but things came to a head when the opponents of this great African American player started complaining that the smell of unwashed socks gave them a smell of impending defeat. The authorities wondered as to who would bell the cat, after all you don’t tell a tennis great to look after her personal hygiene. Finally at an undisclosed price the former president of the United States, who is struggling to make both legal ends meet, agreed that he would sort the matter out.
He walked onto the tennis court where the pretty Serena was practising. For a few moments Clinton savoured the sight of fully developed black beauty pounding the ball with her perfect, well chiselled muscles. Clinton would have spent the full afternoon staring at this sensuous shape of a woman, but realised that there was money to be made, and what better way then in the scent of a woman.
"Hello Mr President," said Serena, as she saw the handsome ex and walked towards him. "To what may I owe this pleasure?"
"I came to discuss your…" said Clinton suddenly at a loss for words.
"My service?" asked a coy Serena. "You want me to..?"
"No, no your service is excellent . Its more about a little fault"
"Yeah I agree with you," said an angry Serena. "These English referees fault me even when I am in the clear. Thank you Mr President for finding fault with their fault finding. I am sure you can take it up with your friend Blair. Tell him to talk to the Queen about it"
"Yes, I will, I will," said Bill, "but its not about your faults that I have come to see you about. Its about, its about.. your attire.."
"My attire Mr Ex president, what’s wrong with it. Ah I know you sir, I know you very well. You want me to wear less, so that you can see more. Didn’t you do that to your dear Monica?"
"No, no," said an embarrassed Clinton. "I am quite happy with what I see."
"But you want me to wear less.."
"No, no… yes, I mean yes"
"Make up your mind Mr ex President. D’you want me to take off my clothes or not?"
"For gods sake don’t do any such thing," whispered a horrified Bill, looking back to see whether Hillary or the press where behind. "I only want .."
"Whatever you want from me, is yours for the asking Mr ex president.."
"Your socks!," shouted Clinton.
"My socks?" asked a horrified Serena.
"Yes," whispered Clinton.
"I always forget to change them when I leave home," said Serena as she pulled off the filthy pair. "Do you want me to autograph them? I’ve heard about all the stink you’ve raised with your weird preferences, but never knew you had a socks fetish..!
It was the grounds man at Wimbledon who revived an unconscious Bill with a pair of socks round his face.