#oneaday Day 937: The Olympics Are Closed

The Olympic closing ceremony finished not long ago, a little late, and now it’s back to normal for Britain until the Paralympics start, at which point everyone will suddenly get interested in sport that isn’t premier league football again for two weeks and then forget all about it when that is finished. (Incidentally, people, you can stop saying “don’t forget about the Paralympics” any time you want. They’re still quite a way off. I doubt anyone is going to forget they’re happening — and more to the point, I doubt the media will let anyone forget they’re happening, either.)

The closing ceremony was… well… uh… a bit poo, really. After the genuinely impressive spectacle that was Danny Boyle’s opening ceremony — noteworthy for its greatest achievement, which was stopping British people from being snarky for two whole weeks — the closing ceremony just couldn’t match up, and seemingly made no effort to.

This is nothing new for Olympic closing ceremonies, of course, which always tend to be a bit poo, particularly when compared to the opening counterparts. But this was just… bizarre, really. And not especially good. There was a lot of celebration of British music that wasn’t that good — Jessie J, Tinie Tempah, Taio Cruz (no, I didn’t know he was British, either) were particular lowlights — and some utterly sacriligeous bollocks in the form of Jessie J butchering Queen with her characteristic out-of-tune caterwauling. Apparently the Spice Girls were involved at some point, but since I had left the room to go for a dump as soon as a video of John Lennon came on whining his way through “Imagine” showed its face, I missed them. And I’m not sorry. The Spice Girls never were good live. They were, however, responsible for this .gif of David Cameron clapping on “1” and “3” (twat!) and Boris Johnson dancing like your embarrassing uncle at a wedding:

Perhaps the most noteworthy thing about the closing ceremony was the palpable sense of relief as 60 million British people all unlocked their underpants and let rip with one of the biggest waves of snark I’ve ever seen. Everyone was obviously backed up from two weeks of genuine pride in the country, the achievements of our athletes and the fact that holy shit you guys, we did an Olympics and it didn’t suck! It was obvious that everyone felt a lot better after ripping the shit out of the closing ceremonies, so it is, of course, entirely possible that the whole event was designed with precisely this in mind. In which case the whole thing was a wonderfully-crafted work of art that managed to get two weeks’ worth of clogged-up snark well and truly ejaculated from the British public just in time for us to go back to the humdrum mundanity of everyday life tomorrow.

Or perhaps it was just a bit poo, really.

Still, regardless of how it ended, the Olympics have been an impressive spectacle and it’s been nice to see people taking pride in athletes who obviously do what they do for the love rather than the money. There have been many comments over the last two weeks concerning the obvious differences in attitude between the (mostly) very sportsmanlike Olympians and the whiny, overpaid, spoiled little crybabies that are premier league footballers, and it’s true. I hate football precisely for the attitudes that are typically on display from the oafs who are at the top of their game, and there was not a trace of that throughout the Olympics… well, for the most part, anyway. Winners often appeared to be genuinely humble and proud of their victories, while those who missed out on gold didn’t tend to blame the referee, the other team, the other manager, the fans or anyone — they simply remained gracious in defeat and, in many cases, promised to come back fighting even harder at the next opportunity.

That’s the true thing that should be celebrated from these Olympics. The opening ceremony was cool, sure, and the closing ceremony was entertainingly bad, but neither of those two things are what the whole experience is about. It’s about taking pride in the sporting achievements of one’s country, and if it can even crack the jaded, cynical old heart of a curmudgeon like me then it’s truly something to be applauded.

#oneaday Day 930: Conditional Philanthropy

I will never understand people — particularly famous types — who are deliberately obnoxious, and who clearly get off on negative attention, conflict and repeatedly proving what an arse they are.

There are a number of people I can think of who fit into this particular category, but the one who springs most readily and frequently to mind is Piers Morgan, erstwhile editor of the News of the World and the Daily Mirror and presently dripping his own peculiar brand of slime over American television sets thanks to CNN.

Piers Morgan’s crimes against common decency are too many to enumerate, but his recent behaviour regarding the Olympics has drawn the ire of a number of people.

For those unaware of what he has been up to, it started here:

And continued:

And continued…

AND CONTINUED…

Morgan, it is fair to say, had something of a bee in his bonnet over the fact that some members of the British Olympic team didn’t sing God Save The Queen after winning a medal. He appeared to think that this was incredibly important, and that it was worth putting down their impressive, world-beating sporting achievements for.

Then came the bribery and guilt-tripping:

Generous, non? Well, it could be argued as such, yes — he has no obligation to donate anything to Great Ormond Street children’s hospital, after all — but dig a little deeper and this whole thing just becomes a bit sleazy, really. By not donating a proportion of his undoubtedly vast wealth to Great Ormond Street simply because of an athlete not singing the anthem — not taking into account the fact that winning an Olympic event is probably a pretty emotional moment for any sportsperson — Morgan is implying several things: firstly, that his apparent philanthropy is, in fact, conditional, and secondly, that athletes who do not sing the national anthem after winning a Gold medal are somehow child-haters.

The gloating didn’t help.

Neither did the inconsistency:

Or the abuse:

Basically, there was just something incredibly distasteful about the whole thing. Morgan was clearly just trolling for responses, and he got them by the bucketload — and yes, I’m aware I’m part of the problem here. We don’t even have any guarantee that Morgan is actually going to cough up the £15,000 he currently “owes” Great Ormond Street.

He probably will, of course, because he then gets to look like the hero who donated £15,000 to a children’s hospital — and also gets to rub how much money he has in the peanut gallery’s faces, of course — but I can’t help thinking that it is for entirely the wrong reasons. If he feels that strongly about supporting Great Ormond Street, he should just donate the money, not hold his contributions to ransom based on something completely unrelated — something that could potentially make the non-singing athletes look like child-hating dicks in the hands of an unscrupulous (read: Daily Mail) reporter.

Morgan’s not making a point here. He’s simply waving his willy around in an attempt to make us all feel bad in one way or another. Don’t sing the anthem? You’re unpatriotic. Don’t have as much money as him? HAHAHA YOU’RE POOR. Criticise Morgan’s true motivations for this little exercise? YOU HATE SICK KIDS AND ARE A PIG-IGNORANT VACUOUS LITTLE TROLL.

There are several things that remain a mystery out of this whole thing. 1) Why is Piers Morgan still relevant? 2) Why are there people standing up for him? 3) Why does he have to be so fucking infuriating and get off on all this “controversy” he’s stirring up? He’s like that school bully who would just shrug off any insults you threw at him then punch you in the face and still, somehow, end up being the most popular kid in the school despite being the very worst kind of odious cretin imaginable.

Fortunately, this being the age of social media, at least one good thing has come out of this whole debacle: this JustGiving page aiming to make up the difference in donations that Morgan has refused to give due to athletes not singing God Save The Queen. It’s a lofty goal, but if the world can harness its hate for Piers Morgan to raise £14,000 for sick kids… well, admittedly that’s not the best reason in the world to give money to charity, but it’s sure better than holding the donations from your own incredibly deep pockets to ransom.

#oneaday Day 924: Hey Daily Mail, This Isn’t Okay, And It Isn’t Funny Any More

[Note: This will probably go without saying if you read the whole post, but the cartoon above obviously does not reflect my own opinions, and is a parody of what I am about to describe below.]

The Daily Mail has long endured a popular perception as the racist, old, slightly mad uncle of the British newspaper industry. Regularly spouting crap on all sorts of subjects and displaying astonishing hypocrisy on plenty of issues, The Daily Mail has always been sort of tolerated as a kind of national institution we’re all slightly ashamed of — and one that we all secretly enjoy getting comically angry at.

With some recent articles, however, I think it’s time that people actually started getting properly angry at the Mail. The first of these two articles is no longer available on the Mail website — presumably after a ton of complaints — but is by far the worst example of a Mail correspondent poking the fire with some frankly astounding racism. You can read the article via FreezePage here.

“The NHS did not deserve to be so disgracefully glorified in this bonanza of left-wing propaganda,” wrote correspondent Rick Dewsbury as the headline to his piece ostensibly focused on the Olympic opening ceremony. He then launched into a lengthy diatribe regarding the incompetence of NHS staff in the case of Kane Gorny, a diabetic who died due to neglect by hospital staff. A tragic case, sure, but hardly evidence that the NHS — regarded by many as a rather good aspect of this country — is worthy of “shame” as Dewsbury seems to believe.

Dewsbury’s article then continued on its rambling way, pausing to note that the athletes’ parade featured “banana republics and far-flung destinations nobody has ever heard of or even cares for” and later decrying the “multicultural equality agenda” that he found “painful to watch.”

“It was the absurdly unrealistic scene — and indeed one that would spring from the kind of nonsensical targets and equality quotas we see in the NHS — showing a mixed- race middle-class family in a detached new-build suburban home, which was the most symptomatic of the politically correct agenda in modern Britain,” wrote Dewsbury. “It is likely to be a challenge for the organisers to find an educated white middle-aged mother and black father living together with a happy family.

“Almost, if not every, shot in the next sequence included an ethnic minority performer,” he continued, as if this was somehow a bad thing. “The BBC presenter Hazel Irvine gushed about the importance of grime music (a form of awful electronic music popular among black youths) to east London.”

Yes, there was a lot of “multiculturalism” in the opening ceremony, but here’s the thing: the Olympic stadium is in the east end of London, which is a particularly multicultural part of an already very multicultural city. To deny that people with non-white skin live in London — and, for that matter, are capable of integrating with Caucasians — is blinkered at best, amazingly racist at worst. Britain as a whole is filled with a diverse array of people from all over the world, and to deny this is to deny what has become part of our national identity — something which the Daily Mail regularly claims to want to defend.

Let’s get one thing clear: this is Not Okay, free speech be damned. It is Not Okay for someone to write a piece for a national newspaper’s website displaying such flagrant disregard for certain parts of the population. It is Not Okay for someone to use their racism as a rather tenuous part of their argument against something which a lot of people believe is actually quite a good thing. It is Not Okay to speak of camera shots including “ethnic minority performers” in a disparaging tone, as if they had no right to be there.

And it is Not Okay to refer to a non-British Olympic competitor who happened to beat the GBR contender (who still won a medal) as “some bitch from Holland” — which is exactly what Jan Moir did in a separate piece — which also gave an undue amount of attention to whether or not certain athletes and presenters had had any cosmetic work done. (The piece is still up here; FreezePage here; a screengrab can be seen here if it does get pulled or ninja-edited, or if the FreezePage is unavailable.)

The Olympics are about the world coming together in peace and competing against one another in sporting events. It’s always touching to see competitors from “rival” nations competing with good sportsmanship rather than animosity, and the whole event is, by its very nature, inclusive and — yes — multicultural. To complain about a “multicultural equality agenda” and to refer to a foreign competitor as “some bitch” is just awful. It really is.

It’s obvious why the Mail does this, of course — to get hits. They know that people will get fired up and upset about these issues. They know that the articles will be shared across social networks with people making indignant comments — but they still get their page views and ad revenue every time it happens. It’s become a depressingly predictable trend that people have just been putting up with until now.

But it needs to stop. Whatever “comedy value” the Daily Mail’s flagrant racism once had — if indeed it ever had any — has no place in modern society. This isn’t “political correctness,” as Dewsbury would put it — it’s just common decency, acceptance and tolerance. It’s 2012. We should be over the “skin colour” and “horrible foreigners” thing by now. But sadly, it seems, some people really aren’t.

Screw the Daily Mail. It’s stuck in the past, just like that racist old uncle lying in his hospital bed, his bigotry tolerated because “he’s old” or “he’s ill” or “he doesn’t know what he’s saying”. Unfortunately, the Daily Mail knows exactly what it is saying, which is why this keeps happening.

It’s Not Okay. And it’s time that those of us with a sense of common decency about us should start speaking up a bit more about this rather than just laughing it off as we have done in the past.

#oneaday Day 921: Oimpylcs

I watched (almost) all of the opening ceremonies for the London 2012 Olympics (as it seems they must be called) and didn’t hate them.

I was surprised.

I mean, I wasn’t going to watch them at all. I have been guilty of Olympic cynicism in recent weeks — not helped by media coverage of the Games being predominantly negative. To be fair, if even half of the stuff regarding the overzealous branding nonsense is true, then yes, that is ridiculous and should be shouted about, but it’s easy to get caught up in and neglect to focus on the things that the Olympics are supposed to be about.

I don’t like sports as a general rule. They go on too long and the ones that are on telly are usually undertaken by people who are being paid far too much to, essentially, do what kids do on lunch break at school. But the Olympics regularly manages to capture my attention in a way that no other event — certainly not anything football-related — ever manages to do.

I attribute this fact at least partially to the number of Olympic-style computer games I played as a child — Summer GamesWinter GamesDecathlonWorld GamesTrack and Field, Olympic Gold, Arena — the list goes on. Most of them were responsible for the destruction of at least one joystick, and Arena did its damnedest to mangle the Atari ST keyboard with its inexplicably joystick-phobic control scheme. But they helped me to understand a wide variety of the weird and wonderful events that make up the Olympics — events which you tend not to see on television under normal circumstances. I attribute my knowledge of the fact that “skeet shooting” is a thing that exists to having played Summer Games, for example.

I remember the first Olympics I actually made an effort to watch — though not specifically what year it was, unfortunately. I want to say Barcelona 1992, but I might be making that up. Anyway, I was staying at my grandparents’ house with my parents (and my grandparents, obviously) and the Games just happened to start while we were there. I decided that I was going to Make An Effort to watch them. (Actually, thinking about it, I’m pretty sure it was 1992, because I vividly remember Queen singing “BAAARCELOOOOONA, such a beautiful horizon” at the start of every broadcast.) So I did. I made an effort to watch some of the “traditional” track and field events as well as some of the weird shit. It was quite entertaining, though I can’t remember the names of any of the athletes I saw or any of the medals that were won. I would be a crap sports fan.

But back to today and the opening ceremonies. I was ready to dismiss the whole thing after the faintly cringeworthy beginning section (particularly the gratuitous and unnecessary insertion of the Eastenders “dum, dum, dumdumdumdum dum”), but the “industrial revolution” section hooked me back in with men in top hats and an excellent soundtrack. It then lost me a bit with a distressingly awful “age of social media” section with gratuitously-overlaid “LOOK THIS IS FACEBOOK BUT IT ISN’T” fake status updates and a poorly-mixed (but otherwise solidly-selected) playlist of excellent British music. By this point, I was oddly hooked, so I didn’t even mind the interminably tedious parade of athletes.

Oh, also, there was a bit where James Bond skydived (skydove?) out of a helicopter with The Queen. (Okay, the skydiving bit clearly wasn’t The Queen. But the VT involving her and Daniel Craig was pretty neat.) And there was a lengthy tribute to the NHS, which the current government is doing its best to either get rid of or privatise. This was then followed by an army of Mary Poppinses battling a giant Voldemort. Yes, that happened. I think.

So yes, on the whole, the Olympics opening ceremony was what people tend to refer to as a “triumph”, shaky bits (and yes, I include Paul McCartney in that description) aside. There were some impressive visuals, an excellent soundtrack (helpfully listed over on The Telegraph) and a few cringeworthy bits. And also some mindblowingly bizarre sections. (The whole “tribute to children’s literature” bit was mildly terrifying and will likely give more than a few people some horrendous nightmares this evening.)

Well done, then, London. I don’t know if I’ll be watching any of the Games themselves, but having sat through that lot this evening I kind of feel a bit obliged to now…

#oneaday, Day 122: Wencock and Wankdeville

So not satisfied with a logo which looks like Lisa Simpson doing something that she’s really rather too young to be doing, the Olympic organising committee now have some stupid mascots to go with it. Unveiled today to a combination of indifference and disbelief from various corners of the Internet, the mascots “Wenlock and Mandeville” are apparently designed to appeal to children. Because, after all, what is the Olympics but a big kids’ party?

“They connect young people with sport,” said Lord Coe, chairman of the organising committee. “And [they] tell the story of our proud Olympic and Paralympic history.”

Do they? Do they really? Let’s go and watch their “story” together. Ready? Click here. Go on, I’ll wait.

Right. So apparently our proud Olympic and Paralympic history involves some retired steelworker from Bolton nicking two pieces of discarded steel and fashioning them into a likeness of Captain Fwiffo from Star Control II before a rainbow bursts through the window, brings them to life, gives them irritating squeaky voices and a desire to mimic every photograph they see nearby. The clearly able-bodied Mandeville mimicking a wheelchair race is a particular highlight.

An actual proper author – Michael Morpurgo, to be precise – was paid to come up with that bollocks. Well, I assume he was paid. I wouldn’t churn out something that shit for nothing. Or maybe he churned out something that shit because he wasn’t being paid anything.

The point is, they’re rubbish. But as Claire Balding’s report on the BBC site says, Olympic mascots hardly have the best reputation. How many of them can you remember? I certainly can’t remember many. Thinking about it, I can’t even remember having seen them at the time the Olympics were actually on the television, leading one to wonder what on Earth they were doing during the Games. Probably face-down in a pool of their own sick at the nearest bar.

Anyway, do the Olympics even need a mascot? I always saw the Olympics as pretty serious business. Having some irritating computer-generated twat jumping around all the time surely cheapens the achievements that the world’s best athletes are busy accomplishing, doesn’t it? Oh, but it’s for the children. Because computer-generated twats that have nothing to do with sport (oh no, wait, his head’s shaped like the stadium, so that’s all right then) are exactly what we need to get children interested in sport. They can get interested in sport while they sit on the couch watching the Olym… wait a minute, there’s something wrong with that theory there, but I’m not quite sure what it is. I’m sure it’ll come to me.

Still, they’re here to stay now and we’re promised more movies in the run up to the Olympics. I’m sure they won’t get annoying at all throughout the course of the next two years. Particularly as you can follow them on Twitter, too. Should you really want to, here’s Wenlock and here’s Mandeville. Why not go and ask them a few offensive questions and see how child-friendly they manage to remain? Not that I’m condoning the abuse of a pair of silver buttplugs via the medium of Twitter of course. No no no. I simply provide you with links to their pages as a courtesy, should you wish to stay up to date with their tour of the UK in the run-up to the Olympic games.

Yes, tour. You know what that means. Some poor sods are going to have to dress up as those bloody things, and probably have to drink the official drink, eat the official food and insert the official suppositories up their rectal cavities, all in the name of publicity.

I weep for the world. Can’t a sporting competition just be about, you know, sport any more?