A few weeks after Nathan's success in the Junior Nationals, Jez was practising with Brian and Mike, when a man cycled over and asked if he was in time for the coaching class. When Mike explained that the lesson had taken place the previous day, the man looked so disappointed that Jez offered him a half-hour individual lesson at the weekend.

"Thanks very much!" said the man, who revealed he had heard about the coaching from the television "advert".

At the weekend, a pirate television transmission had gone out over the entire southern region of the UK. During an episode of the Teletubbies, viewers had heard a squeaky voice promoting the coaching programme available at Upper Gummtrey Tennis Club. The incident had attracted equal amounts of favourable and adverse publicity, and although demand for his coaching courses had suddenly rocketed, Jez's pleasure at the unexpected windfall had been offset by the disconcerting experience of being grilled for several hours at the local police station. Whilst unquestionably blameless himself, Jez had a fairly shrewd idea Nathan's father was behind it all.

"Have you been playing much?" Jez asked the cyclist.

The man shrugged. "Well, I had a game last week. It didn't go too well. I forgot to get my racket back early. I forgot to point at the ball. I forgot to bend my knees on my volleys. I also forgot to change ends because . . . because I even forgot the score. Will you be able to help me?"

While Jez pondered the problem, Mike advised in a low voice. "Make sure he pays in advance!"

After a short conversation, the man got back in the saddle and pedalled slowly away.

"Hang on!" called Jez, running after him with an outmoded aluminium racket. "You've forgotten this!"

"Did I hear one of the juniors fell over and cut himself earlier on?" Brian asked Mike as the two of them sauntered off towards the clubhouse.

"Yes," Mike confirmed. "Looked pretty nasty at the time, but he didn't need stitches."

"Jez got his first-aid qualification last week, didn't he? That must have come in useful."

Mike raised his eyebrows. "Oh yes. His technique was excellent!"

"Eh? Good! What did he do?"

"What, Jez? He sat on the bench and put his head between his knees to stop himself fainting!"

Brian was still coughing when Jez caught up with them.

As was often the case at this time, Jez steered the conversation to Australia, where he and Mike and Nathan were heading during the winter.

"I'm really excited about it," said Jez. "Wonderful country. They're religious about sport! Mike and I are thinking of emigrating to Australia one day."

"Eh? Come off it, you two don't really know anything about the country!" Brian scoffed.

"Sure we do!" asserted Jez. "Test us then!"

"Mmm, right. What's the capital of Australia?"

"That's easy. It's 'A'!" said Jez.

Brian caught his pipe as it dropped from his lips. "Come on, seriously chaps!" he spluttered. "Mmm, now. What state is Sydney in?"

"He's in a terrible state!" said Mike, grinning. "He's flat on his back in the clubhouse. Just played a five-setter with Neil!"

"I should have seen that one coming!" said Brian with a grimace.