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Ba-ba-papapapapapapa-baaaaaa-ta-daaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!! Yes folks, it’s that time in our lives that only comes round once every four years. What’s that? No you bastards, I’m not talking about me taking a bath!!! I’m talking about the thrill of competition, the tragedy of losing all the pride you’ve ever had in the face of so many people, and the invincible spirit of humanity in the face of overwhelming odds. No you bastards, I’m not talking about me going on the pull!!! I’m talking about the Olympic Games - that incredible festival of human endeavour and passion. This week’s Whimsy is brought to you in the shadow of the Olympic Flame that burns so bright in our hearts. Why am I getting so wound up about the Olympics? Well sadly I have been struck down this week by the evil hand of Food Poisoning (and yes, it was from a meal I cooked myself and no, it’s not funny) so I have been forced to find my own entertainment in the flat. I’m bored. After unravelling the rug, thread by thread, in the sitting room and then painstakingly stitching it back together before my beloved flatmate Jenny got home (and she hasn’t found out yet, so please don’t tell her), I was even more bored. Thank God for the Olympics! It has kept me sane for the past week, so naturally I have found much to amuse myself with. And it is with this Whimsy that dedicate my week of pain to the Olympics. No special guests this week as it is a Whimsy Special, but please feel free to send me your thoughts and comments. You can reach me on the Whimsy Website: www.users.globalnet.co.uk/~codmate/whimsy/index.html MMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmonyourmarksgetsetgo Welcome Olympic Ridiculousness of the Day part 1 - Table Tennis. That great sport, once played by innocent-eyed children in their primary school, the game that has provided hours of entertainment in drop-in centres and Youth hostels all over the world is an Olympic Sport. Can you believe it? I’ve just been watching the Chinese playing Table Tennis and it’s like a bloody Jackie Chan film. It’s astonishing how these athletes (no stop sniggering, they are technically athletes, and so are beach volleyball players, Female Mud-Wrestlers and Topless Darts players) move so fast around such a small area. And the speed of their hands? It’s phenomenal, it really is. Table Tennis on TV is not a viable option. For example, there are no big sweeping angles for the cameras to film, everything happens so fast that even action replays are a pointless blur. Take snooker for example. There is a nice big area for the game to be played on, the action isn’t terribly fast but there are thrills and spills. With table tennis, it’s like watching ants on speed. There’s no time for any sense of thrill to be built up because the individual rallies are so short. Basically what happens is like this: -Someone serves. You blink. The game is over. Someone has scored. -Someone serves. The ball hits the net. The umpire - as in lawn tennis - shouts something unintelligible that you presume means that the ball has hit the net. You didn’t see this because the ball moved so fast. -Someone serves. You don’t see anything but there is the tell tale pitter-patter of a Ping-Pong ball hitting the table. There is frantic - and I do mean frantic - motion from the players, but you can’t see their hands move and the ball might as well be invisible. You blink, no matter how hard you try to keep your eyes wide open in case you miss anything. Someone scores. These guys hit the ball so damn fast you expect there to be a sonic boom. And the opponents’ reactions are incredible. Yet these games go on for ages. Before you know it, you’ve been watching the game for about two hours. I cannot bring myself to believe that the game I once idly partook in with my fresh-faced schoolchums has turned into a game that requires Jedi reflexes. Film of the Day - Chariots of Fire. I last saw this film when I was seven. I really should see it more because it is regarded as one of the finest films to come out of the UK. But the only thing to have been properly remembered from this movie is the bloody music and the fact that people run in slow-motion. How many times have you seen someone do a gag where the Chariots of Fire music comes on and someone walks in slow motion. This is like slanting your eyes at a Chinese restaurant and saying "Flied Lice Prease". It isn’t bloody funny. Only this week did I see Terry Wogan hosting Auntie’s Olympic Bloomers. How did he come on stage? Well he came on to the Chariots of Fire music and pretending to run in slow motion. Oh yeah, Jenny had to rush to her sewing box to get out a needle and thread because my sides had split due to a combination of hilarious laughter and excessive cake eating (She didn’t really. I am being sarcastic. And sad because due to my Food Poisoning, I can’t eat cake at the moment). The music to Chariots of Fire was written by that God of boring electronica, Vangelis. It’s worth remembering that only two years later, Vangelis wrote the music to Blade Runner, which is one of the greatest movie scores of all time - along with The Empire Strikes Back, North By Northwest, Chinatown, Goldfinger, Aliens, Jaws and Flash Gordon (the Queen one, naturally) - but Chariots of Fire is not his finest hour. OK, he won an Oscar for his limpid, Satie-esque theme and his keening electronic tonalities, but frankly, anyone with a posh keyboard could do that sort of thing, take Moby for example. Chariots of Fire’s music is one of the most overrated pieces of Muzak ever. Of course, none of Vangelis’s other works raise any eyebrow much these days. Why? Because instead of trying to make thrilling and atmospheric music in the same way he made the Blade Runner score, he concentrates on writing cheesy pastoral shit like the Chariots of Fire theme. Boooooooooring!!!! Olympic TV Sports Programme of the Day - We Are The Champions!. Remember that? Well it may not be strictly Olympic but for me and my generation it might as well have been. Compered by the late, great commentator Ron Pickering, it was a programme of young teenagers trying to overcome Herculean obstacles in a way not dissimilar to It’s A Knockout!. Like It’s A Knockout!, the teams competed by trying to fill up tanks of coloured water whilst overcoming slippery tyres, rope bridges and ball pits. Unlike It’s A Knockout!, We Are The Champions! did not require it’s contestants to dress up as pirates. A typical edition of We Are The Champions! followed a very simple but rigid format: 1. We are introduced to a windy playing field somewhere in the North East of Britain. A crowd of children are forced to cheer and yell for the camera as Uncle Ron introduces us to the teams. 2. The team members are introduced as individuals, not unlike the process on University Challenge. The kids would then be required to smile oafishly and wave at the cameras, the cooler kids would give two thumbs up and smile nonchalantly. The ultra-cool kids would give only one thumb up and grin in an offhand way and the real Keith Richards-types would give a mere flit of a wave and a nod of the head with the merest glimmer of a smile. A great TV personality was not required on We Are The Champions! 3. The games would begin. Each game would be given a name which was obviously made up at the last minute by overworked BBC production assistants (Ron: "And this game is called......Hide the Castle!") and every week, there was a whole host of new games. No two weeks were the same and games were never repeated, although a lot of them were jolly familiar. The games followed the "It’s A Knockout!" format outlined above. A team would have to win by collecting certain items - the most number of red balls win, the most coloured water in the transparent bucket, the most rings on the peg and so on - and these items would be translated into points. Everyone took a turn in a relay fashion. Unlike kids shows of today, at no point was anyone covered in fluorescent slime. 4. About half-way through the show, the action would retire indoors to a nearby indoor swimming pool where the action would continue albeit in water. The format would remain the same. The largely improvised names of the games were there (Ron: "And this one’s called.....Throw Away The Mermaid!") and teams had to swim through "imaginary" shark-infested waters to grab a ball/ring/float and return it to their base. 5. One team would win, Ron would present the prize and the show would close with Ron shouting "Away You Go!!" at the teams. The teams would then leap into the water and a giant free-for-all would ensue over the end-credits. The last thing we would see of this fabulous programme each week would be a swimming pool frothing with young teenagers mucking about in an abstract fashion - presumably implying that once you’ve worked hard, you can then, and only then, have random fun. We Are The Champions! was a profoundly revolutionary game. Not only did it spawn a host of imitators that eschewed sporting achievement for slime and humiliation of teachers, it also spawned more spectacular gamesshows like Gladiators, which is a dead rip-off We Are The Champions! right down to the ringmaster/referee type person. We Are The Champions! is also one of the few Sports programmes I have ever watched with any enthusiasm Competition of the Day - Field Sports. The Field Sports in the Olympic Games are where all the Fat people can throw things in order to justify their humungous appearance. Speaking as a former County Shot-putt champion and record-holder, I can safely inform you that all Field Sport athletes are allowed to spend as much time eating cake as they want. And that’s no bad thing!! Olympic TV Commentator of the Day - David Coleman. Who else? Coleman’s dulcet tones and informed athletic knowledge, not to mention his turns of phrase ("I can safely say, it’s a game of three halves!!") have made him a national TV icon much the same way as Murray Walker. Of course, Coleman has inspired his own column in Private Eye ("Colemanballs" - where turns of phrase like Dave’s are turned into hilarious thicky witticisms) and has inspired a generation of appalling impressionists (that’s people who do impersonations, not blobby French artists from the 1890s-1900s) to stick their fingers in their ears and go "Errrrrrrr.....!" in a nasal voice. Coleman is, believe it or not, in his 70s now and will be retiring after these Olympic Games. That’s a shame. He really is a national treasure and we should salute him thus: (All together now!) "ERRRRRRRR.......!" Top TV Totty of the Day - Sue Barker. The Blond-bobbed pixie of the BBC Sports Sofa has to share presenting duties with that Rugger-bugger imbecile John Inverdale. Sue, lest we forget, once was alleged to have shagged Cliff Richard. Oh and she was a tennis player. You know, one of Britain’s plucky ones at Wimbledon. She is incredibly sweet though and she is doing her best to fill the huge gap left by the assassination of Jill Dando (sorry, there is no other way to describe it) in the nation’s hearts. Sue perches forward in her BBC Sports Sofa, telling us all about our desperate hopes for a medal. Never once does the twinkle leave her eye. She’s fit and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise. Of course, should I meet her I would have no option but to ask her: "Sue......Errr....Is Cliff any good in bed?" Distance of the Day - 100m. It’s not as short as you think you know. I’ve done the 100m sprint in competition before now (I did it in 12.54 secs, only about 2.5 secs behind the champions you know) and it really is a massive strain. For one thing, it is psychologically as well as physically demanding. It’s also a lot longer from the starting line to the finish. I was pretty good - in the top ten of the county - but it was such a stressful moment to be in the starting position and the gap between "Set....." and "Go!" might as well have been 50 years. Also, have a look at the faces of the runners when they finish. They look as though they’ve run through the sound barrier. The 100m is for me, the highlight of the Olympic Games. It shows who the fastest person in the world is, but this year it is on at about 4am. Bollocks! Musical Moment of the Day - National Anthems. Hmph! It seems that if you win a gold medal, you get to hear your national anthem. It’s embarrassing to say this but Britain’s National Anthem is one of the worst. It sounds so muddy and boring. Only Australia’s - which sounds like it was written by committee after somebody had pieced together an anthem made up of all the best bits from everyone else’s). All the others start with profound fanfares and a stirring rhythm. God Save The Queen starts with a whimper and builds up to a soggy climax. Listen to the opening bars - the "Gooood Saaaaave Oooouuuur Graaaaa-shus Queeeeeeen" bit. It always sounds as though the band playing it hasn’t got a clue what note it begins on and the music frequently wobbles off key. If I had my way, which I don’t but assume for a moment I do, all the athletes should choose what music they want to hear. This will mean that a lot of people will stand staring at their nation’s flags while the PA blares out James Brown’s "I Feel Good" because that is what they will want to hear. So another suggestion would be to have primary school children playing the national anthems. Have you ever heard an orchestra made up of kids playing God Save The Queen? It is the funniest and most bizarre thing you have ever heard. It would sound fabulously subversive at the Olympic Games. Of course, national pride would best be expressed by popular music inherent to the cultural identity of that particular nation. America would naturally salute to "Born to be Wild", Australia would have nothing but "Waltzing Matilda", Russia would salute to lift music, Britain would tremble it’s bottom lip to "Wonderwall". Athletes of the Day - Long Distance Runners. Always from an Central African Nation (Kenya, Ethiopia, Nigeria, Sudan, Zimbabwe), these guys just blow the opposition away. It’s great to watch these runners, who are always small and wizened and yet have bottomless reserves of energy, absolutely trash all of the Western Nations to a wheezing pulp. I watched this geezer from Ethiopia earlier on today almost laugh as he lapped some Dutch guy during a heat for the 10,000m. All this bollocks about needing good equipment and training facilities is a load of bollocks when you consider these guys who win the long-distance runs every time, just run around their local area without the benefit of technologically advanced super training centres. Let’s face it. Britain is shit at sport. The sooner we accept this, the better it will be for all concerned. Event of the Day - Gymnastics. Hooray! I have been watching the gymnastics this week with religious fervour. If you think I’m checking out the women, think again. Gymnastics are pretty incredible, especially when you consider the waifs who take part, particularly the women. For some inexplicable reason, gymnastic women look like rejects from a freak-show. They are far too small and skinny, not to mention physically immature. I was watching on Tuesday when they announced a 20 year old Romanian girl and I nearly fell over. The poor girl was only about 3 stone in weight and about 4 foot tall. Not to mention the fact that she had no feminine shape - no boobs or bum. Also, she had a face like a pissed-off boy. Believe me people, if I wanted to watch Totty on telly, I only need to rent out a couple of Buffy the Vampire Slayer vids for me to get my fix. Girls in the gymnastics look freakish but they perform the most incredible things. Some of them really cannot be possible yet there they go: leaping, somersaulting, twisting, spiralling, launching, landing and doing that "arms akimbo" thing at the end of each event. But the most amusement for me comes when they mis-time something and end up flat on their arse/face/wrist etc. They seem impervious to pain but there is real sadistic pleasure in watching these poor urchins get carted off to cry by their coaches. One gets the impression that the world of Gymnastics is a bitchy one because all of the competitors kiss each other in that horrible BBC and Arts fashion - all "Mwah!" and kissing air. I have noticed that the gymnasts have begun to improve. Some of them are a little bit taller and chunkier - not to mention a little bit more voluptuous. This can only be a good thing. The vogue for tiny little munchkins with rabid amphetamine and steroid problems, not to mention physical deformities and slow development, is on the wane. The USA and Australian teams looks like proper women rather than deformed pinheads. Only Eastern Europe is still adhering to the grand tradition of no tits and crap boy faces. Olympic Ridiculousness of the Day part 2 - Synchronised Swimming. It’s an easy target I know, but just think about it. All those pointless exercises by Esther Williams-a-likes, all flowery headgear, goggles and nose clips. OK, they may swim in the formation of a chrysanthemum but frankly it’s ludicrous to consider a bunch of fit birds swimming in shapes could have any Olympic value. There really will be a tremendous cheer when the International Olympic Committee realise that Synchronised Swimming loses a little bit of credibility for the Olympic Games. The only good thing Synchronised Swimming is good for is elaborate dance routines in Busboy Berkley musicals. Olympic Thought for the day - Like bollocks is the taking part important! Dan Greensmith Whimsy Archive |