We knew Pat Rafter had some impressive groundstrokes. We knew he could pick up in a nunnery. We knew he lost five-setters about as often as Stalin used to lose elections. We knew he could fill an average-sized domestic swimming pool by wringing out his shirt after a match. But we didn't know he had such lip.

Yet, there he was this week, working over his old sparring partner Pete Sampras. A verbal upper-cut here, a little jab there, a rip to that hairy belly when it was least expected.

Rafter had just become the world's No1 tennis player. He sounded more like he had just won the heavyweight title.

Sampras was a sore loser. Sampras had exaggerated the extent of his injury at the US Open. And, of course, the old refrain - Sampras didn't give other players "respect".

Sampras has been the world No1 for six consecutive seasons. If he melted down all his grand slam trophies he would have almost enough silver to make a filling for Lisa Kudrow. So, whether he should be singing the praises of his opponents after a rare defeat is a matter for debate.

(For the affirmative: Sampras is an elite athlete who has a responsibility to demonstrate grace and composure, and give full credit to his opponent. For the negative: Sampras has lost to some bums in his time and can't be expected to say they are all future Wimbledon champions.)

Yet, regardless of the substance of his attack, the tennis nabobs must have been salivating after every provocative Rafter syllable.

Here is a sport that has had, in recent years, all the drama and excitement of non-league ludo. The only thing worse than watching the likes of Yevgeny Kafelnikov and Marcelo Rios has been listening to them whine in their press conferences about the quality of the caviar in the players' restaurant.

Then, within a couple of months, Andre Agassi comes back from his bi-annual trip to the fat farm ready to play and dusts everyone on the red clay. Sampras stops pouting about his own inability to handle the dirt and plays a perfect Wimbledon final. Then Rafter - the US Open specialist - seizes the top ranking and starts kicking sand in Sampras's face.

Suddenly, the sport has stars, rivalry and - best of all - a guy who is willing to speak his mind. Now we can only pray Pat The Lip doesn't stop here. In fact, if the International Tennis Federation has any foresight it will put him to work full-time.

Make Rafter the officially sanctioned Tour Mouth.

Give him a licence to stick verbal pins in all the inflated egos and set him loose in the locker-room.

His early material is not too bad. We liked the lines about how much enjoyment he got from beating Sampras and how beating Sampras was even better now that he knew how much it annoyed the American. But if he is going to really do some damage, he could use a little help.

So, Pat, should you choose to accept the job, here are a few for free:

"Hey, Goran, we know who played Nurse Ratched and The Chief - who played you?"

"What's that, 54 tournaments without winning a title, Anna? It must be great having the weekends off."

"You might like to check the new rule book, Carlos, we're now allowed to cross the service line and hit the ball on the full."

"Win a couple more rounds and you might be able to afford the rest of that dress, Venus."

"So, Steffi, how was the family reunion?"

"Andre, Barbra Streisand just called. Wants to know if you'll be attending her 80th-birthday party."

"Can you help me with my Spanish homework, Arantxa? I'm looking for the words for 'old', 'slow', 'washed up' and 'retire'."

"Good news, Yevgeny, the hotel cleaners found your missing personality. They're keeping it for you at reception in a thimble."

"Are there any desserts left in the cafeteria, Monica, or have you already eaten?"

"Great new gear, Mark and Todd. My three-year-old twin nieces have matching outfits just like them."

"It must have been great for DrJ going out with your mother, Samantha. He could have practised shooting free throws into her mouth."

"Hey, Marcelo, we're holding a party for grand-slam winners and we were wondering if ... oh, of course, don't worry about it."

Take them, Pat, and put them to good use. Tennis is not professional wrestling. But with your help, it can be up there with it soon.