The Olympics & Me

I hate running. I would rather go train-spotting and have needles poked into me whilst doing yoga (on acid), dressed as Bungle in 40’C heat than go running. I sure as hell loathe the idea of watching running. I certainly have no interest in whether someone can jump 1mm further than someone else. Nor do I have any time to see how far someone can throw a pointed stick. And Olympic football? You are having a laugh, surely? Give me the Auto-windshield Trophy any day.

Yes, it is time for the Olympics, and time for us British to do one of the things we do best, which is shrug our shoulders, and nonchalantly pretend nothing is happening and get on with our lives until said event disrupts our way of living, and then moan about it over 10 pints, buy and possibly even eat a kebab and then forget it ever happened and go back to moaning about how hot/cold/wet/dry/misty it is and how we haven’t seen our particular favourite cloud yet this week.

If you have read my blog long enough, you know I like to play Devil’s Advocate at least once every 4 years.

So I am going to embrace the Olympics. I still far prefer being out for a beer with friends, looking for new music, going to nightclubs, etc so watching sports that I have no interest in is not going to change just because of a sense of occasion. I didn’t succumb to watching Andy Murray losing the other week, I just watched Big Brother. I am not changing my life for it.

I do however like a good ceremony, and I am definitely looking forward to watching the Opening Ceremony tonight. The Olympics is time to show Britain off to the world, and to show that despite having democracy, we can still do big events and put on a fantastic spectacle. I am most interested though, in seeing hot young ladies in short outfits dancing and whatever my Olympics hero, Boris Johnson has to say. A ceremonial turn-on for both men and women.

I might watch some diving. I do actually quite like diving. Maybe some badminton. Or archery if Bob Crow volunteers his face to be the archery board for all the suffering he attempts to afflict upon London, and the country as a whole.  My old boss is going to the archery.  Yes, he is a twat.

I am actually going to watch the Olympics live too. I am really pleased about this because on the off-chance that I accidentally get some bird up the duff one year and she has not given me a reason to dress up as Batman and climb onto the gates of Buckingham Palace with the my soon-to-be newly-found agility inspired after Tony Blair’s Olympic legacy, I would not want to risk young Tinkerbelle/Deano ask me why I didn’t go to the Olympics – this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Instead I look forward to regaling them with tales of why I got thrown out of the Olympic Park. Though I suspect they would be more interested as to why I didn’t stay until 10am at fabric’s 12th birthday to see Villalobos.

I think I have already been inspired by the Olympics, and have decided that I must get fit, or at least less unfit, so I am going to make an effort to go clubbing more so I can shift some of this ridiculous weight that I have put on the last two years.

I would like to take this opportunity to wish all of our athletes well, I especially hope you kick ass against the Russians. And may I also express my gratitude to Tony Blair and David Beckham for all their hard work in organising this event.


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