We've been watching that fucking clock ticking down for what feels like centuries. And the excitement should probably be ramping up right about now.
The Olympic creed is thus:
That's nice, right? And I do admire the athletes (not our athletes; I don't think the country of their birth marks them out as anything more special than any other fast runner, jumper or hopper) who have dedicated their entire lives to the single purpose of jumping a millimetre higher than someone else over a big horizontal stick. I mean, I don't claim to understand why they'd want to do such a thing. Seems an awful lot of effort, but whatever gets you through.The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part, just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle. The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well.
I've read about patriotism and nationalistic pride in books, so I sort of get that people get excited about various competitions where people kick things and hit things and run around in circles and swim up and down and that. It's a weird thing to get all pridey about. It's absolutely no reflection on a country if someone runs slightly faster than someone else. None. At all. Nada.
But why all the fricking hooha? Why do we have to have it thrust down our gullets that 2012 is the MOST EXCITING YEAR EVER FOR BRITISH SPORT. I mean, it doesn't have much competition does it? What's it going up against? The one time we won the World Cup (which, by the way, is seriously too long ago to hold onto as anything special now)? Or how about that time the nice bald swimming chap won a medal? Or there's always Wimbledon - two weeks of tedious disappointment and posh people rahhing into their strawberries.
What with the fucking JUBILEE - it's the JUBILEE you know. You might have missed this fact. It's easy to miss what with no news channel/newspaper/rmajor retailer banging on about it all the fucking time. The Queen is bloody ancient now, and to mark the fact that a family with all the money in the world seemingly live for-fucking-ever, we all get to buy Union Jack branded shite and eat cakes in the street with the neighbours we never talk to. Not long, mark you, after said old, rich Queenie took her seat under a million quids worth of jewels to tell us all how we should live like paupers for a few years on account of the fact that the government gone done fucked up the economy again. What does she care? She's seen it all before. Loads of times. She's been on the throne since 1902. So what with the Jubilee and then the Olympics and then apparently some football shite, I might beg my doctor to put me into an artificially induced coma until September and everyone shuts the fuck up.
But my point, before I started ranting like a good 'un, is that this Olympic ideal, this bastion of good sportingness and honourable valour we're constantly told to look up to and admire is funded by possibly the most evil conglomerate of massively corrupt multinational corporations you could think of. Seriously. Think of the five most unlikely and soulless, morally corrupt corporations and you'll find them as either a sponsor or a partner of the Olympics.
You may have also noticed that everything you buy is apparently endorsing, sponsoring or otherwise spunking over the Olympics, from cake, sweets and burgers (I'm sure they tie in with the Olympic ideal somehow) to haircare and sanitary towels. There's probably some Olympic branded condoms so people can literally spunk themselves silly with excitement, and yet stay safe.
It's all about the fucking money. So they can stick their greatest show on earth rhetoric up their fucking arse. Just about the only thing I'm looking forward to is watching them flounder when London inevitably grinds to a halt with its shiteous public transport system.