The Olympic Flame is in our country. We are all meant to cheer.
Some people lit a flame in Greece, flew the flame over to Britain, and it’s going to spend the next 70-odd days wandering around the country. Lots of worthy people, who were nominated for doing good things, or winning competitions, or however, get the chance to carry a glorified fag-lighter a mile down the road, before using it to light another one. They get to keep the torch, for about 300 quid, after which time it appears most of them want to flog it on e-bay (one is currently hitting nearly £70,000 at the time of writing). For charity, granted. So far.
Now. I’m not easily impressed by things. I never have been. If, for example, you have a firework display, it’s unlikely to impress me unless it resembles the New Year’s Eve celebrations at Sydney Harbour Bridge. So some random people carrying a torch around the country, in an attempt to make the London Olympics a national event, won’t move me. At all. In the slightest.
Incidentally, Nazi Germany came up with the torch relay in 1936. Which, I reckon, sums it up.
Go ahead, call me a miserable sod. Fact is, the Olympics will be great. But it might as well be in Sydney for all I care. Getting tickets was a farce, it’s sponsored by big businesses whilst small local firms don’t get a look in, and the best views are on the telly. Which is where I’ll be watching it. Hence, it could be anywhere in the world.
Oddly enough, I’ll be off to France on the day of the opening ceremony. Which, I believe, is where the damn thing was supposed to be!