So, that oily toad, Seb Coe, was on the radio this morning being quizzed about the Olympics. He was talking about sponsorship deals. "We have to protect our sponsors," he kept saying, whilst being confronted by some of the astonishing facts that are arising about the games in that particular area. "So," said Evan Davies, "is it true that people entering the stadium, holding crisps that aren't made by Walkers, will be asked to pour their crisps into a Walkers bag?" "I'm not sure," spluttered Coe, "that might be a bit of a "straight EU bananas" rumour." Davies pushed him. "Would I be allowed to enter the stadium as a spectator wearing a T shirt saying Pepsi?" "No, you wouldn't" said Coe. "Could I go in wearing Nike trainers?" "I don't know" said Coe, like a tit, "possibly."
I'm beginning to wonder if the Olympic organisers think we're still in Beijing? Under any other circumstances we wouldn't put up with it. We go on and on about being grateful to live in a non-communist regime, and yet the minutiae of life is suddenly being manipulated and controlled by multi-national companies. I sincerely hope the British sense of humour will out here, and people will find amusing ways of sticking their fingers up at these nonsensical rules. I can't wait for Coe to get back into his draw. He was only ever useful as a pretty (and talented) 800 meter runner who looked like he'd come straight out of Chariots of Fire...
Another full day in Worthing. I drove. Two traffic jams. Only just got home, and am likely to keel over any moment...
July 1662 was a wash-out, and Pepys' house, which still had no roof, was soaked through. So much, in fact, that Elizabeth was immediately dispatched to the country with all the servants for two months, and Pepys was forced to find a room at Sir William Penn's house - whom he hated - and move all his belongings to the office. Whilst there he found an ancient flag, which he vowed to keep, although Elizabeth told him to leave it there a while longer to see if anyone would miss it first.
Saturday, 21 July 2012
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I only have three words for Mr. Coe: OUT. RAGE. OUS.
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