Tuesday, 18 February 2014

Learning the Ropes.

'Oh no, not more bloody slippery dancing!’

The next event billed on the Winter Olympics was Men’s Ski Half Pipe. Sounds like a load of blokes in sailor suits dancing on skis, doesn’t it? But no; the reason it’s called ‘half pipe’ (I assume) is because the arena is shaped like a massive upside-down half a pipe. Oh, right; that’s OK then.

(I can’t be expected to know about winter sports, can I? My early childhood was poor and spent in a poor neighbourhood. I never learned to either ski or skate, and I didn’t have a sledge because I didn’t have the sort of father who was interested in making such a thing. And nobody, but nobody, in my neck of the woods ever bought a sledge. Hell, I didn’t even have a winter coat to go to school in on freezing winter mornings… Oh, wait; I’m getting carried away. I did have a coat, but it wasn’t very thick.)

So anyway, the Men’s Ski Half Pipe was actually quite entertaining. There were lots of flips and somersaults and skiing backwards, and several of the contestants fell over. The French bloke who fell over even did a Gallic shrug, so I’ve seen worse.

Aha, but then we switched events and watched the British curlingers, or curlingists, or curlers, or curling players, or whatever they’re called, whooping the Norwegian likewises 6-5 with a brilliant last shot (or push, or curl, or whatever – how the hell would I know?) My theory as to why we won is the fact that the Norwegian shootist (?) was wearing a fleece, whereas our shootist (?) was in a short-sleeve T shirt. No doubt Valhalla was in uproar.

Tough Saxons 1 – Wimpy Vikings 0


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