The Good And The Bad

Clare Balding has restored some decorum to the Olympic television coverage in tandem (geddit?) with Sir Chris Hoy at the velodrome. Informed, informative, enthusiastic, interested and interesting. Sadly the team at the swimming got mildly better only to slip right back into self-absorbed puerility as the curtain came down on the best British showing since God was a lad. Sharron Davies wins the award for ultimate crassness with a remark directed to the medal-winning medley relay squad pointing out "That makes us the most successful British team ever." No, no, no, it makes them the most successful team ever; excellent as you inarguably once were Ms Davies, your day has gone. Empathy is admirable; neediness is undignified.

Another telling televisual moment was Sir Steve Redgrave's magisterial put down of an offensively over-eager John Inverdale when he tried to jump ahead of the New Zealand television crew in interviewing their single sculler Mahe Drysdale. Inverdale - you're a plonker. Redgrave - you're a legend.

Talking of legends, I trust there will be no more delay in knighthoods for Mo Farah and Andy Murray. It will make a nice change from the cronyist sideshow of David Cameron's recent misplaced largesse. Nothing marks a man more than the manner of his passing from power - Cameron has gone and barely a soul misses him.

Breaking News: Sometimes The Good Guys Do Win

Today Not So Grumpy

I had a dig at Sharron Davies yesterday for her over-familiar style of swimming poolside reportage. I stand by that but the Overgraduate is nothing if not fair-minded. So I dutifully report that Ms Davies gave a balanced and sane interview to The World Tonight on Radio 4 last night on the topic of drug abuse in sport. Good stuff.

I was listening to the radio on my way back from yet another exercise in Bardology. This time it was the Lord Chamberlain's Men performing Much Ado About Nothing at a Shrewsbury Castle. Another good production and worth tracking down as they tour the country to various outdoor venues - website at Lord Chamberlain's Men

If you're forever bemoaning the intellectual maw into which we have descended, try this article for size - Hate Crime . And if you've never read any Kafka, well try that as well and then you can call the befuddled world the article describes as Kafkaesque. This is the land we live in, a land revered for its legal system. Go figure.

Ooh sorry, getting grumpy again.

Sorry But Yet Again The Word Of The Day Is ... Asinine

Hello it's Captain Grumpy here again.

I've been trying very hard to stomach the BBC coverage of the Olympic swimming but my god it's difficult. Sharron Davies for starters. A distinguished past Olympian who was robbed of a gold medal by a drug-fuelled East German. But the time to grow up has long passed and being the cheerleader in chief at poolside is not journalism - it's a bit desperate in truth.

As for Helen Skelton and Mark Foster - well I'm sorry, you poor loves, if it's humid in there but I expect my broadcasters to reach for something that at least passes for smart-casual when they dress to come into my living room. But that can all be forgiven if there is some serious illumination cast upon what I am watching. What do we get? A stream of asinine drivel. I revere good sports journalism/broadcasting (think Simon Barnes, John Woodcock, John Arlott, John Reason, Hugh McIlvanney, Stephen Jones, Clare Balding and John Inverdale about ten years ago) but this is self-indulgent and infantile. These free-loaders might be made to watch the dreaded Sky's cricket coverage - intelligent, insightful and humble.

Mind you if you want to see bad, self-absorbed sports broadcasting tune in to At the Races (Sky 415) when Matt Chapman is performing. Knowledgeable and well-prepared but on balance and all things considered - what a prick. A graduate of the Piers Morgan/Donald Trump School of Hubris.

Oh well, it's only a game.

A Curious Case Of A Missing Box Of Chocolates

We watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button last night and throughout I was thinking that it reminded me of Forrest Gump but minus the chocolate box philosophy. Only when I looked up the credits today did I find out that the films share a screenwriter. Benjamin Button is the better film. 7.5/10.

As a veteran of a hugely enjoyable stint volunteering at the London Olympics (see July/August 2012 on this blog for my contemporaneous notes) I am trying not to be unimpressed by the start of the Rio offering. However the clear absence of spectators does make something clear - tickets are obviously set at first world prices and will not sell to second world citizens. What is left is a spectacle (and it is indubitably that) for the billions gathered around televisions. This is sad but I have no answer. Doubtless Tokyo 2020 will postpone any further need to ponder this point. Rather sad.

I can't help but feel more than slightly pissed off every time I am drawn back to the news. The world can seem to be run by thorough-going knobheads. There was though a good piece in the Washington Post a few days ago which bluntly diagnosed Trump as a narcissistic bull-shit merchant. This gets to the root of the problem more neatly than anything else I have read. And when it comes to bull-shit, I am, please remember, a professional.