Frankly, I don't give a damn

Love and hate the Olympics

The Olympics are sport, so that's good. There's a lot of politics, vanity, and plastic fans involved, so that's not so good.

This morning there was total focus on the Olympics in the media, despite today being the first day of a test match. That's disrespectful. I think the Test Match Special team were mildly cheesed off. When a gold medal was announced, the response was: “what's that in? The underwater basketweaving?”

I don't think anyone who follows sport 24/7 and loves all of it wants to do anyone down, but there's a natural “you're in my manor now, son” thing to deal with. A journalist described it as “being treated as a traitor if you fail to buy in, 100%, to every last scrap of Olympics hype”. That's the hub of the matter.

Badminton and vicars

Radio 4. Lady vicar (or something like that). Banging on about the morals of winning and the unwritten athlete / audience agreement. A few things. Winners compete in stadiums and in camera. If you want to question anything, forget the morals of the players trying to win, and look at the people making the rules. If you know you're through in any case, and with a win you face a game against opponents you've not beaten in years, lose and you're playing opponents you've beaten senseless recently, what would you do?

The answer is this: if you would try to win at every stage and pay no attention to the upcoming games and the bigger prize, then you wouldn't be at the Olympics in the first place. Others would've beaten you to the place in the team.

Vicars need to join politicians. Butt out. You don't understand.

TMS

All day. All day TMS. All day phonecalls.

I know everyone asking for the truth can't actually deal with it. This is the truth:

There's a test match on. I'm listening to TMS. I may be driving, up on scaffolding, whatever, but the car radio or the earphones are giving me the latest. Now. I want to know what happens when Broad bowls to Smith. Your house, you and your family, your right of way at the next junction, all that stuff, can all disappear in a puff of smoke as far as I'm concerned, and all I care about is Broad's next ball to Smith. Draw glasses and a 'tache on the Mona Lisa, graffiti all over the Houses of Parliament, take a dump on the Buck House lawn, cancel the Olympics from this point on, take everything but cricket off the telly, don't care. Not the slightest bit interested. Shove all your petty cares and woes, madam, up your hole and shuffle off under your rock.

Deal with it. That's the truth.