Nick Skelton Turns The Tables On BBC Commentators.

We’ve seen lots of hugging at these Olympics, Andy Murray enjoyed a snog with Kim, a cuddle with his Mum and then was accosted by a little boy who cried,”Give me a hug Andy”, and Andy doubled back and did just that.

The competitors have been hugging each other, no matter what the outcome. Michael Phelps was quick to go over and congratulate his conqueror, but maybe that was to get away from the warm patch.

Our lightweight double sculls pair were pipped at the post for gold and were distraught, what better place to get comfort than sobbing on the mighty chest, enveloped in the arms of the giant Olympian Sir Steve Redgrave.

And then, of course, there was the floating assault on Ben Ainslie, post gold medal win.

Yesterday Nick Skelton tuned the tables on the commentators, seperated by a fence he told Clare Balding how fantastic it was to win gold in the team show jumping, told her how fantastic it was to do it at 54 years old, following a broken neck and a hip replacement, told her how fantastic it was for the sport and then running out of words he leaned over the fence, slung his arm around her shoulders and gave her a big sloppy one.

You go, Nick.

Actions Speak Louder Than Words

Another good day at the office for Team GB, the only downside being that should our athletes fall on hard times in their dotage they’re not going to get much from flogging their medals as they hardly posess rarity value.

A wonderful performance from Ben Ainslie was greeted with one of the most interesting situations for a post race interview ever witnessed, with Ben sitting on his Finn class dinghy whilst the BBC’s intrepid interviewer perched on the side of an adjacent rhib, that’s rigid hulled inflatable boat for those who don’t know.

As the boats bobbed and bumped on the slightly choppy water the Beeb’s man grabbed hold of Ainslie looking like he was trying to haul him overboard, and gabbled away excitedly about how “that has to be the most fantastic achievement from the greatest Olympic sailor ever.”
to which Ainslie replied, “Er, yeah.”

Short, succinct and to the point, I’m sure you’ll agree.

Jamie Murray meanwhile was re-tweeting a message his brother had received in the run up to his second encounter in a month with the beautifully elegant Roger Federer on the sacred lawns of SW19.

And this one wasn’t nasty.

The poster had given Andy a good piece of advice.

“Revenge is a dish best served at 138mph.”

Andy’s next to the last serve of the match was clocked at exactly that.

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And The Gold For Over – Enthusiasm Goes To….

Oooooh, aren’t you just loving the Olympics, made all the better by the fact that we are actually doing quite well. I have to admit I taped Andy Murray yesterday cos I couldn’t bear to watch him live, well I was cooking chips and getting distracted by a prolonged rally is probably quite a good way to set the kitchen on fire.

But can we do something about the commentators. They are so biased, which is fair enough, and they are so convinced the Brits are going to win they’re saying thing s like, “And Rebecca Addlington is ready to make her move now,” when in fact Rebecca Addlington looked just like she was desperately hanging on, as indeed she was.

There’s obviously two Olympics going on, The one we’re watching and the one the commentators want us to be watching.

Twit Of The Year Award

Monty Python once featured a sketch entitled “Upper Class Twit Of The Year.”

Now thanks to Twitter twittishness is no longer the preserve of the upper classes, any arsehole can join in.

So following the revelation that Rebecca Addlington, double Olympic gold medallist,and Jessica Ennis,double European and World Champion heptathlete, do not read any messages before competitions, on account of there always being some messages of a disparaging nature in among the good wishes, we now learn that a Twit, calling himself Rileyy69, tweeted an offensive message to Tom Daley, our Olympic diving hope and former world diving champion, and also the athlete women of a certain age would most like to mother, aawww, he’s so cute!

Little Tom’s response was quite grown up really in that he re-tweeted the message with a comment along the lines of ” see the kind of idiots I have to put up with.”

Well Rileyy69 soon got the message that you don’t say nasty things to a potential National Treasure, so he tweeted an apology, but this failed to stop other twits sending him abusive tweets so he laid into Tom again.

Rileyy69 is allegedly a 17 year old from Dorset, and he has now been arrested and charged under the Malicious Communications Act, which makes it “an offense to send an electronic communication that conveys a grossly offensive message intended to cause distress or anxiety”.

Now I don’t know but I’d be willing to bet that young Rileyy has not achieved very much in his short life so far, he probably won’t have made it into the school swimming gala and I can imagine that if he ever stood on a 10 metre diving platform the best he could manage would be a bomb and safest probably a shamefaced climb back down the ladder.

It would appear that he doesn’r compete at international level in any event, not even tiddlywinks or conkers, so while I think arresting him is probably going too far, haven’t the police got anything better to do with their time, I think I’d be inclined to take him up to the 10 metre platform and force him to dive off. A belly flop from 30 odd feet should prove a reliable way to make him take to heart those words our mothers, grandmothers and teachers drummed into us at an early age, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”

Oh, and of course he has achieved something, The Boggartblog Twit Of The Year Award.

Podium and Medal Tipped to Gold

oooh the Olypics are here. Watched a few of the swimming heats this morning, then I’ve watched the end of the cycling road race, but unfortunately no podium finish for the Brits.

But that does lead me to something I heard on the radio the other day, which surely deserves the gold medal for mangling the English language.

Now we all know in corporate speak they are fond of making verbs out of nouns, but this has got to take the cake.

Or I should probably say … cake it.

A spokeswoman for Team GB, who shall remain nameless lest she be summarily executed by the massed disgusteds of Tunbridge Wells, gave us these immortal words,

“Everyone in the team wants to medal …. they are all hoping to podium…”

And her tongue was nowhere near her cheek!

Just had to keyboard that for you all 🙂

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Just When I Thought It Was Save To Lose The ‘R’

He’s got back in the water the bastard.

For most of my life I was Ian Thorpe. The R of my middle name (It’s Raymond but I never tell anyone that) was useful for adding a flourish to my signature on cheques and was required by law on certain documents but I managed to get by without it for most things until the end of the last century.

Then the imposter appeared, an Australian whippersnapper calling himself Ian Thorpe was winning every swimming race imaginable. To save myself the hassle of reading about a hundred fan e-mails a day from people wanting autographs, pictures or tips on improving their swimming techique I had to become Ian R Thorpe. It was partly successful, I only got 50 fan e-mails a day.

I even wrote to the imposter and offered to make a web page for him so people looking for “Ian Thorpe” + swimming would not be directed to my poems and stories. The overlong, clown – footed upstart replied (very politely I have to say) that he had no interest in the internet.

I was effectively stuck up my own R.

Fortunately he got an agent after his success in the 2000 Olympics but I was still stuck with my R for the sake of the few dozen people who looked for Ian Thorpe the poet, writer and occasional stand up.

Then Ian decided to give up competitive swimming and concentrate on business. As he gradually faded into the background I had less and less mail about swimming until it struck me earlier this year I was not getting any. Time to lose the R and just be me again.

Just as I was getting near to complete eradication of the R, I hear the other one is planning a comeback for the 2012 Olympic game. Looks like I’m going to be Ian R Thorpe for a bit longer.

BASTARD.

Olympic Weightlifter Gives Birth While Training

When I saw this rather bizarre news story of a female weightlifter from Chile who has previously competed in the Olympic Games. She was in training for one of her sport’s big events in Brazil when she gave birth to a three monthes premature boy.

She said she had not known she was pregnant. (Read all Olympic Weightlifter Gives Birth While Training)

“This is the strangest birth related story I have ever heard,” you might well be thinking. If you are and you are also a regular Boggart Blog readers it shows you have not ben paying attention (or maybe your memory is deteriorating – if you can’t remember what this post is about we suggest you see your Doctor)

In January 2009 we brought you the far more bizarre story of a baby born while its mother was HAVING A DUMP. Now fatsally and I thought that was a brilliant story to brighten up the gloomy days of winter but you buggers did not give us a single comment between you. So here it is again. Baby Born On The Bog Like the EU Bureaucrats with the Irih referendum we will just keep republishing the post until we get enough comments.

More humour every day at Boggart Blog

Do Sex Shops Smell Of Piss?

Mobile phone networks are to be asked by London City Hall to cut off pimps and prostitutes during the run-up to the 2012 Olympic Games, by blocking numbers advertised on thousands of sex calling cards plastered in phone boxes throughout the capital. Kit Malthouse, the deputy mayor for policing, said: “If you are an American tourist and if you walk into a telephone box you would think it was a sex shop.”

Now I have not been in that many sex shops in my life but I have walked past quite a lot on my way trough the sleazier parts of certain cities. And I never noticed a smell of stale unrine hanging around any of them.

More humour every day at Boggart Blog

You Can’t Keep A Good Nutter Down

Some people just can’t help themselves, they have to stand and shout, “LOOK AT ME” any and every chance they get.
So it is with defrocked vicar Neil Horan.
He first came to public notice at the Atlanta Olympics when he grabbed the leading runner and dragged him off the road.
Not content with this he re-surfaced at the British Grands Prix, running down the track towards the oncoming cars, dressed in his Irish green jerkin and a little kilt and carrying a placard in one hand and a flag in the other.
But such fame is fleeting, and whilst when mentioned we can all re-call these incidents, they don’t stick in the mind like say bare breasted Erica who ran onto the pitch during an England rugby international, or indeed the chap who streaked down the starting grid at the British Grands Prix.
But no Mr. Horan is back, still wearing his Irish green jerkin and little kilt he has won through to the second round of Britain’s Got Talent by dancing an irish jig.
We have to warn you though, as nudity seems to be a syrefire way of grabbing long lasting attention don’t be surprised if the band starts up with The Stipper when he appears for his next performance.

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Not Fair!

Ok so there I was surfing the interactive TV Olympic coverage yesterday when I lighted upon MEN’S beach volleyball.
“Whey hey,” I thought, “Shoulders and six packs and cute little bums encased in lycra!!!!!”
So I selected.
What did I get? Four chaps in baggy shorts and baggier vests. Not Fair!
This is obviously sexual discrimination. The only reason for ladies’ beach volleyball is so the blokes can ogle the fit girls in the bikinis, if you’re going to have a male equivalent then the girlies should be able to ogle the fit boys in skimpy lycra.
And let’s face it, whilst the Olympics may showcase the best in sporting achievement, most of the athletes haven’t got the right kind of figure, male or female, to be termed totty. Seeing chaps with their fun sized meat and two veg jiggling up and down isn’t really very enticing.
Perhaps we could have semi naked tennis. Novak Djokovic showed off a fine pair of shoulders and more besides as he ripped off his shirt on winning the bronze.
Rafa has a glorious physique, Federer can hold his own in any manly chest contest, as indeed most of the top male players can. What a treat it would be to see these splendid young men batting that ball about naked from the waist up, instead of having to hope the camera stays on them at change of shirt breaks.