So here we are. A year on from the London riots in the midst of Olympic fever, and the two scenes could not be more contrasting. The only flames this time are the ones coming from the Olympic cauldron and Team GB are heading for their greatest medals tally since they won in London in 1908.


I never thought I would have been caught up in it all as much as I have been. It really has inspired me…to sit on my backside and watch more of the coverage. Hey, it’s tiring just watching them alright? I could not have been more apathetic before the games started. In fact, I remember that Thursday before it all kicked off thinking ‘I’m sure there’s something on TV this weekend’.  However, ever since I switched on the opening ceremony, out of curiosity more than anything else, I have been hooked. Ok, there were parts of it that were just a little weird – Kenneth Branagh dressing up as Brunel and reading Shakespeare, a large Voldemort terrorising kids in a strange mix of children’s literature and the NHS, and a black industrialist to name just a few. So…slavery didn’t happen then? Not in the Olympic spirit sure, but Britain was one of the first to call for the abolition of slavery and besides, the whole Industrial Revolution apocalypse thing was hardly ‘Olympic-y’ either. Otherwise, the ceremony was largely enjoyable and British and blah blah blah it’s all been said.

 

A lot of people at the time were saying how proud they were to be British. For me, that has come with the success of our athletes. From the gymnastics team, the rowers, cyclers, canoeists, sailors, shooters, and swimmers, to the high profile medals won by Andy Murray, Wiggo, Ainslie, Ennis, and Farah – the British athletes have performed superbly. As a result, even the most cynical of people have forgotten all about the naff logo and the poor ticketing system and have been engrossed by the games…except maybe Aiden Burley MP. After watching that amazing hour where a mixed race young woman from Sheffield, a ginger jumper from Milton Keynes, and a former refugee from Somalia who came to London aged 8 without knowing a single word of English, I can just imagine Burley sitting in front of the tele going, ‘what a load of leftie multicultural crap’. As for Rick Dewsbury of the Daily Mail who said ‘it is likely to be a challenge…to find an educated white middle-aged mother and black father living together with a happy family in such a set-up’, Jessica Ennis (poster girl of the 2012 games so I’ve been told) and her parents have made him eat his stupid, misplaced words.


But aside from the sporting achievements, the games have provided magnificent entertainment. My personal favourite event has been the beach volleyball. I say this at the risk of being labelled as a pervert, but from a purely sporting sense (like, 60%) it is a fantastic spectacle. Any sport with the Benny Hill theme and music in between every point is a winner in my eyes – although somebody was having a laugh playing ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’ by Queen after one of the points. 


This is also largely thanks to the genius, and at times hapless, coverage on the BBC (Gary Lineker doing a subtle Spandau Ballet impression being a prime example). In the gymnastics alone there have been emotional moments, like when the men’s team won the Bronze, but also I’ve taken great delight in pretending that one of the commentators is a presenter of a wildlife show – if you’ve seen any of it then you’ll know which Attenborough-esque commentator I mean. The amount the presenters are involved with the team is heart-warming at times and emotional at others – see the interview after the British men won silver in lightweight double sculls in rowing when they were desperate for gold. Britain hasn’t been that upset about a Danish boat since the Viking invasions.


And of course, who could forget about Clare Balding? Two of my favourite moments came yesterday after Andy Murray’s triumph over Federer yesterday afternoon. Firstly, Tim Henman shouting ‘WOOHOO!’ after Murray’s gold medal clinching ace. Secondly, was a fine piece of incidental deadpan humour. After winning the gold, Balding, with the straightest of faces, declared ‘Tim Henman knows what it feels like; he won a silver medal in doubles in the Olympics a few years back’. Poor Tim, always a runner up. From this to the immature glee of laughing at ‘tough semi’s, the ‘snatch’, and a Bulgarian 400 metre hurdler (who fell over at the first hurdle) suitably called ‘Stambolova’, the Olympics has provided endless comic relief amidst all the emotional and uplifting moments.


At the start of last week all the talk was about the opening ceremony and the ‘legacy’ of the games. Even though I have been sat at home watching most of the coverage, I can already feel the change. Bigots have been exposed with Tom Daley’s Twitter troll, London seems more welcoming, and multiculturalism has been given the boost it desperately needed. I just hope that the positivity emanating from the games doesn’t vanish come next Monday. Sport has always had the capacity to do some good. Even if it doesn’t, it can distract us and provide the best possible escapism (even if that is escapism is from trying to get tickets from their awful website). The news being filled with Olympic tales epitomises this. If ever there was a fortnight for someone high profile to sleep with their secretary, invade a country, or leave a CD with government data on a train then this is it.


With one week to go, I apologise to my Twitter followers in advance. I will continue to share my enjoyment of the games. Now excuse me, I need to get back to sit on my backside and watch people run.