Wimbledon's tactical toilet breaks and why you should introduce this power play

As the great and the good and the grunty of the tennis world descend on SW19, the sun is shining, the strawberries are ripe, the Pimm's is flowing. You can almost hear Sir Cliff warming up his vocal cords, just in case rain interrupts play. Yes, Wimbledon is here. The All England Lawn Tennis Club is looking pristine, the courts are freshly clipped, the lines are crisply painted. Murray Mound (or is it Draper's Distension now?) is littered with sunburnt spectators, pots of M&S houmous, carrot sticks, cocktail sausages and premixed tins of G&T. All is as it should be. Or is it...?

According to a recent study, tennis players may be craftily using toilet breaks for more than just a comfort stop. You cannot be serious! It's long been suspected that those mid-match bathroom trips are strategic, and now there's data to prove it. Researchers found that 71% of toilet breaks were taken after losing a set offering the perfect opportunity to break an opponent's momentum, regroup mentally, or just vent some frustration by booting a bin and muttering a few unsporting words about the umpire.

You can hardly blame them because who doesn't resort to a well-timed toilet break in an awkward moment? It's the ultimate get-out-of-jail-free card. A classic move, and one I deploy often, because it's a truth universally acknowledged that, at a dinner party or down the pub, someone at some point will launch into a tirade about the wicked corrupting media.

How the press are liars and manipulators - whipping up public fury while conveniently burying the truth. How the media is to blame for all that is rotten in our society. I've heard it from all sides.

Lefties hand-wringing over the influence of wretched right-wing rags, and red-faced hard right conspiracy types barking about mainstream media cabals. Eventually, the conversation will steer to that go-to social lubricant: "So, what do you do?"

After nearly a decade in this industry I'm well prepared for such scenarios, so I'm aware of the grenade I am about to throw. Like a character in a Michael Bay film, wearing Aviators, smoking a cigar, casually flipping the pin.

"Me? I'm an editor and columnist at the Daily Express." Boom. No one ever expects the tabloid news editor. And with that, I take my leave. "Just gonna pop to the loo. Back in a mo."