So, it would seem, the Olympics have finally started and what blog would be complete without a post about ‘The most memorable event of modern times’. (They clearly haven’t seen me after a few bottles of Sauvignon down my neck.) I won’t deny I enjoyed every second of the opening ceremony, if for no other reason than that it was totally bonkers. Absolutely raving mad.
Where other countries did Pyrotechnic wonderment we did a bloke standing on a hill surrounded by sheep with a guitar in his hand. And nothing quite says, we’re a bunch of stark raving lunatics, like some glow-in-the-dark beds, a replay of Brookies first lesbian kiss and a 2 bed semi-detached in the middle of an Olympic Arena. Off the wall insanity and ‘in jokes’ you’d only get if you’d lived in this country for approximately 42 years? God damn it, I love it when this country get’s it so right.
It was never going to be Beijing and it didn’t try to be either, it tried to be Mr Bean, a camped up James Bond and a Chitty Chitty Bang Bang Child-catcher on roller skates, it tried it’s best and had a laugh. Well, done that country.
It is fortunate, on that subject, that we are able to laugh at ourselves given the rather shambolic mess it’s turned out to be before and after said ceremony.
Empty seats and the like aside, I felt it my duty as a resident of London Town to get involved with the festivities yesterday. I wandered down to The Mall (Quite easily I should add, total gridlock? Heaving tube lines? Millions of extra people pounding the streets? Alongside humour, over-reaction is another thing this country seems to excel in.) and, whilst sheltering from a mid summer storm, found myself sharing a doorway with two very polite Olympic stewards, who after 10 minutes of listening to me eff-ing and blinding about the c***ing English weather and, after closer examination of their badges, turned out to be the Olympic Nepalese Archery coaches.
I mean honestly,what kind of overseas hospitality is that, a sodden doorway, I tell you, not even an Olympic lane!
On reflection they did look a little confused when I asked them if they knew of a nearby boozer that was showing the cycling on TV and could knock up a decent Bloody Mary. Welcome to London, boys.
It comes as no surprise to me that the most popular sporting event thus far has proved to be the beach volleyball. The English may not be very good at winning gold but, my God, are we sterling at commenting on a backside when we see one and who can’t love the Olympic music director who’s bright idea it was to play Benny Hill halfway through each match. Semi-naked women running around in the pouring rain outside Buckingham Palace to the soundtrack of a seventies Saturday night TV show? Total comic genius.
Naturally the majority of radio stations, papers and people have spent a significant chunk of what was it, Oh, yes, ‘The most memorable event of modern times’ moaning and bitching about the cock ups, the weather, the unfair advantages and elitist favouritism. Cameron to be hung! Boyle to be knighted! Cheats, heroes, villains and lunatics! And so the people roared ….
And this is why there is no better place on earth to have held the Olympics at a time when the world is on it’s knees. Laughing, griping, moaning, cheering; we might be pretty shit at sport and spending money wisely, but, boy, can we put on a show.
So let’s wave our flags, get blind drunk, lose well, laugh lots and shout ‘Come on Team GB!’ at the top of our voices.
Shakespeare would be proud …