Pauline Eyre talks about tennis the way some people talk about religion — reverent, knowing, and occasionally willing to point out the absurdities in the holy texts. For her, it’s not just a sport. It’s a lifelong calling, measured in summers at Wimbledon, sunburnt line-judging shifts, and the quiet thrill of knowing you’ve spotted the ball in or out before anyone else on Centre Court.

Even her opening is classy: she begins on the stairway into the theatre, as if addressing a hushed tennis crowd, instructing them — politely but firmly — to turn their phones off. It’s a small, clever detail that instantly sets the tone.

She’s been a Wimbledon line judge for two decades, living in the periphery of glory but close enough to hear every grunt, curse, and champagne cork. In that time, she’s collected the sort of stories that come with standing ten feet from greatness — from a youthful infatuation with Stefan Edberg (equal parts professional admiration and swooning crush) to working for the BBC as a continuity announcer, to dodging the quirks and egos of world-class players on the circuit.

Eyre has no trouble serving up the comedy. Her “Foot Faults” section is a neatly disguised demolition of tennis pomposity: the etiquette rules nobody actually follows, the royal box rituals, the unwritten hierarchies that dictate who gets which locker. It’s sharp without being cruel, affectionate without fawning.

What makes the hour land is the marriage of insider authority and properly honed comic timing. Eyre doesn’t fake her enthusiasm, nor does she overplay it. Instead, she threads her personal history through the larger tapestry of the sport, inviting you into a world where the smell of freshly cut grass meets the faint tang of sweat and liniment.

Even if you’ve never picked up a racket — even if you wouldn’t know your Federer from your forehand — Anyone For Tennis is still worth your time. It’s not just a love letter to a game; it’s a blueprint for turning an obsession into a well-structured, laugh-out-loud hour. By the end, you realise this isn’t just her story about tennis. It’s her story about finding joy, aim, and a front-row seat to human theatre — one line call at a time.

Once the chalk dust settles, it’s an excellent piece of comedy tales, no fault!