Fatter, dire, stranger

Unlike some of my dear friends out there, I don’t want to take up much space here discussing the nature of blogging, suffice it to say that I have found myself with little inclination to write anything these last few weeks.
However, this morning I was fortunate enough to listen to Radio 5 for a few minutes, and felt that it was incumbent upon me to provide some balance against the dross being broadcast.
Apparently there is some sort of sporting event about to take place in China. Some sort of competition to see which nation can best conceal the consumption of narcotics. I hope to miss it all. While I can understand that broadcasters might wish that they had journalists on hand to cover the quasi-sporting elements of this ridiculous spectacle, I fail to empathise with their stance that all of their staff should go to China as well. This is particularly true of the wireless companies.
The BBC has sent Nicky Campbell to China. Haven’t they suffered enough? While I can see the benefits of sending this silly person to the other side of the world, giving him airtime while he is there seems to be counter productive. This morning, Mr Campbell was on the Great Wall. The only difference that I can think of from the viewpoint of a listener (can listeners have viewpoints? What is the aural equivalent?), is that it proves that no matter where in the world the idiot is, he still talks bollocks.
This morning we learned that:

• There was no one else around on the wall – no tourists, a few security personnel. This makes sense. If I were inclined (and I ain’t) to go and look at a few old bricks, then I would choose a day when I was not likely to encounter Nicky Campbell.
• It’s the best wall he’s ever seen. (He told us that he hadn’t seen Hadrian’s Wall – this will vex Hadrian, Campbell is exactly the sort of person that old Hadie wished to exclude when he built the fucker). It would be entirely untrue and go against my principles of love, peace and tolerance to suggest that my favourite wall would be the one into which Nicky Campbell’s face had been smashed, but you get my point. (He also told us that he hadn’t seen the Wailing Wall. It would do more than fucking wail if it had to listen to that pillock.)
• Er…..
• That’s it.

We were then treated to an interview with Sarah Brightman. When the gods in charge of distributing names dished that one out they must have been having an off-day.
Ms Brightman is apparently singing at the “opening ceremony” tomorrow. She was asked what she would be singing, and replied that she couldn’t disclose that. This was her most interesting answer. Had she been involved at an Olympic Games before? Yes, 15 or 16 years ago. That would be 16 then, you dull tart, as the Games take place every four years and fifteen is not divisible by four. Answers to other questions were variations on the theme “I dunno”.
This event is going to be a real success isn’t it? The UK is showing goodwill towards the People’s Republic by inflicting Campbell and Brightman on them. I’d jump under a fucking tank if they showed up here.
One thing that Campbell said was that “China was going to be at the centre of the gaze of the world”. Of course, this sounded more like “gays of the world”. Which brings me neatly to the opening ceremony again. At this point, I need to make this disclaimer. I am a commy, tree-hugging, bleeding-heart, lentil-chewing, liberal big girl’s blouse. I don’t care what anyone else does, provided it does not hurt anyone else (without their consent). I hold all of humanity in equal disdain, irrespective of political stance, religious allegiance, racial group or sexual orientation. However, (and I say this as someone who has only had a passing glimpse of these ridiculous displays), the opening ceremony of the Olympic games can only be adequately described as a bunch of twats dancing around like a bunch of Kansas City faggots.

Must dash. The heats of the freestyle cardigan knitting begin in a little under 40 hours.