You might miss it, given all the Slumdog-Obama hypermania. But, a nation that adjectivised the kiss for erotic eternity, has three of its men in round four of the Australian Open Tennis Championship.
I remember guys like Henri Leconte and Yannick Noah existing to provide the pretty-boy quotient and quarter-final fodder for the aces in the 1980s.
Since then, the closest France have come to being taken seriously in the men’s game is in the form of Amelie Mauresmo.
Look out now for Jo-Wilifred Tsonga, Gilles Simon and Gaels Monfils. These Frenchies are ripped and ready to rip.
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