Anyone for Tennis? CBeebies Bedtime Stories

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CBeebies Bedtime Story.

D'you know, I just can't work out what this is.

Oh, hello. I'm Tanni. Can you help me?

Everyone at CBeebies has been incredibly helpful.

Sid wrapped this.

Andy wrapped this, Cerrie wrapped this, and Alex wrapped this

to make everything colourful for tonight's story.

There's only one problem - I don't what anything is anymore

cos everything is covered in wrapping paper!

I need to find my tennis racket cos I have a match tomorrow.

It wasn't meant to be wrapped up.

Tom in tonight's story has been unwrapping things.

Shall we find out why?

This story is by Shane McG and is called Anyone For Tennis?

Hi, I'm Tom Foley and I'm seven years of age.

I know this because yesterday was my birthday

and I got lots of great presents. They're brilliant

and do amazing stuff like beep and crash and whir.

All except this one. It doesn't do anything.

Dad said it was a racket.

You play tennis with it.

He said it's a lot of fun.

I wasn't convinced.

"Who plays tennis?" I asked Dad.

My sister Ida doesn't play tennis.

In fact she doesn't do anything

except lie in her bedroom all day, talking to her friend Tanya

about boys and shopping.

How boring is that?

"Dad, did you hear me? Who plays tennis?"

Mum doesn't play tennis. All she wants to do is stand on one leg

humming and doing a yoghurt.

"I think you mean yoga," Dad said.

Whatever, it looks dumb.

So who plays tennis?

My cat Smudgy doesn't play tennis.

She spends her entire day eating.

And passing wind!

PARP! Phew! Smudgy!

My best friend Kevin doesn't play tennis either.

He spends all his time riding his lovely new green bike

without giving me a turn, ever!

Actually, he's my sixth best friend.

And my dog Spike definitely doesn't play tennis.

He's way too busy chasing cars.

Poor Spike - he never catches them!

My cuddly blue croc certainly doesn't play tennis. That would be crazy.

He'd trip over the ball. TOY SQUEAKS

I asked Dad one more time.

"Who plays tennis?

"Hello? Dad?

"Where are we going?"

I don't think he was listening. He was too busy hitting balls at me!

I had to duck for cover.

I thought about running away but I'm not a scaredy-cat.

"Don't worry," said Dad. "When I hit the ball to you

"you hit it back to me and I hit it back to you. OK?"

OK.

I took a really big swing at the ball and fell over.

"You just need some practise," said Dad.

And practise is just what I did.

On the way home Dad asked me,

"Who plays tennis, son?"

I said, "That's easy-peasy, Dad.

"Tom Foley plays tennis."

My racket is pretty cool after all.

It doesn't beep or crash or whir

but you CAN play tennis with it.

Or electric guitar.

That story was called Anyone For Tennis?

Well... Ah!

Here's my tennis racket!

I'm all ready for my match tomorrow.

Now all I need to find are the tennis balls

then I can start practising.

Well, while I get looking, it's time for you to find your bed.

See you soon for another story. Night-night.

Um, does that feel like a tennis ball? No.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd

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