Not Snowboard

I generally, as rule, hate sports. I don’t really like any of them on account of the fact they take up time watching them that I could be using doing other useful stuff. What other useful stuff you ask? Well, er, all sorts. From walking around kicking my feet to sitting around kicking my feet. Stuff like that. Useful stuff. With most games I find it irritates me that they never end. Yeah your team or player wins the cup, but give it 8 months and they have to start playing for the cup again. Why doesn’t it ever end? Just have (and I’ve said this over and over again) one big match and that’s it. Properly play for everything and then if you win, you’ve won forever. Consequently, if you lose, you are the biggest loser for infinity, and then we’ll suddenly start seeing people play for their £88k a week salaries and training instead of shagging each other’s girlfriends. But as with all rules, I have discovered an exception. This rule, by the way annoys me, as if there is an exception to every rule, what is the exception to the rule that ‘there is an exception to every rule’? Or is that the rule the exception by not having an exception? Ow my brain.

Anyway, last night upon returning home from Old Rope (where incidentally my new material worked. The new material I wrote while not using Twitter or Facebook all day. Whats the message? Hmm?) I turned on the telly to find the Men’s Snowboard Cross race at the Winter Olympics and I was hooked. So much speed, danger and hair raising overtaking, it is quite possibly the best sport I’ve ever seen. I found myself sitting, glued to the screen making sounds like ‘ooh’ and ‘argh’ and other things you say when you are witnessing someone about to crash their face into an icy wall at extreme speeds. I was completely gripped watching all the qualifiers, quarter finals, semi-finals and then the brilliant final where one person dropped in a spinning messy fashion, then 2nd place overtook 1st at the last minute as though he was in a computer game and someone had pressed the ‘A’ button for a boost. Amazing. Then was the luge, the Winter Olympics version of firing someone blindly out of a cannon. They say there is skill involved but I really can’t see how. I suppose maybe there is skill in having blind faith about shooting down an icy tunnel of sheer death at fast speeds on a metal wagon of doom. There was a rather tragic luge event last week where a Georgian competitor did actually die. Hearing about this, I realised, that as sad as that was, the element of possibly dying is exactly what makes the Winter Olympics so much more fun than the summer ones.

Admittedly, not all of the Winter Olympics. Curling for example is stupidly dull. However, they should replace the curling stone with a bomb that goes off if it slows down. That would be gripping and added to the possibility of losing fingers and limbs from a speeding ice skate, the Winter Olympics are hella dangerous. I think this is an element we need to add to the normal ones, and suddenly we’d all care about 2012. Hurdles with spikes on? Yes please. Javelins in the shape of boomerangs? Let’s go. Alternatively, as I mentioned on Twitter last night, maybe we should just do all the summer events in the snow and ice. I like the idea at the London ones that someone has to luge down the side of the gherkin building. Or maybe, just maybe, I shouldn’t like sport at all, and everyone should stay safe. Yawn. That’s what I say to that. More Cross Snowboarders please!

Its Pancake Day today which makes me all a bit excited. Pancake Day usually collides with a Fat Tuesday Comedy Club, which while it has the essentially the same name, does not include pancakes. It did once, when myself and Andre Vincent dared each other to each them until one had a diabetic coma. Instead we just both felt a bit sick. Today however, no gig, so I am going to indulge in pancake mania. Savoury ones, sweet ones, medicinal ones, ones with worms in. Ok not the last two, but I ran out of ideas. Like in the olden days I will use up all the stuff in our cupboards before tomorrow. We don’t have any flour so they will have to be made with sweetcorn and jam. I might just go buy flour. Then lent tomorrow, which is a week where I won’t nag anyone to give me back stuff they’ve borrowed. That’s how it works right?

Right must get tossing. Today I am a tosser, you are a tosser, everyone’s a tosser. Hooray for pancakes.

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