Simple Answer

Like Sean O’Grady, I hate the Olympics, just as I hate all sports that involve people trying to run a bit faster than someone else, poncing about after a ball or jumping up and down. I’m inclined to seek out some wet paint that needs close observation for light relief. And, no, BBC, it is not the greatest show on Earth, it’s a two-week tedious wankfest of dire bullshit.

Running round and throwing things. That, to me, sums up what the Olympics is all about. And, for me, it’s as dull as it sounds. It’s like watching school sports day writ very, very large.

Well, yeah, but the solution is just so obvious… Don’t watch it, then. I will manage to avoid seeing any of this utter crap.  I am remarkably skilled at avoiding sport on television, because it has an off switch. I time-shift programmes I want to watch and see those, instead. No one has to be exposed to people poncing about trying to run a bit faster than someone else if they don’t want to. Those who are easily amused can then watch if they want to.

But I am also turned off by the supreme pomposity of it all, which looks especially misplaced in an era of drug taking and general cheating. The Olympics, even more than international football or rugby, takes itself extremely seriously.

Indeed. The obsession with doping is getting very silly now. And I just don’t care. It isn’t important. No one will die as they would in my industry, so I just shrug my shoulders. Nothing about sport is worth taking remotely seriously.

If the Russians want to artificially enhance their results, and no-one fancies stopping them, then the only logical thing is to let everyone get their hands on the drugs.

Again, indeed. It’s just not important.

Anyway, why do we have to celebrate this quasi-fascistic celebration of physical prowess and perfection?

I don’t. I ignore it.

I do not feel inferior to someone who can run a four-minute mile, and I resent being asked to look up to them.

Again, I don’t. I couldn’t give a flying one who they are or what they do. They and their activities are supremely unimportant. Unless you told me I wouldn’t know who they are anyway.

For me, it’s all too much to bear. The Olympics totally dominates the media and favourite television programmes are shoved sideways to make way for live coverage of someone trying to jump over a sandpit.

As already mentioned, time-shift. Works every time.

I had planned to take some leave over the next three weeks, but now know that I can’t because anywhere I go in the world there’ll be a screen showing someone in trunks on a podium in tears while their national anthem is played, like they’ve saved a family from terrorists or broken a drugs cartel (no irony intended).

Is someone forcing you to watch? No? Not a problem. Get over yourself. If there is one thing more tedious than the Olympics, it’s a journalist moaning that he is forced to watch – when he isn’t.