What Danny Boyle Missed From His Mythical Isles Shitfest
Swine has been on holiday to the Costa del Crime for 10 days and watched the opening ceremony for the LondonOlympicsTM whilst scranning clams in a taberna with the sound turned down. Therefore I only got to see a few glimpses of what appeared to be a West End musical as directed by Luis Bunuel and, a few hours before, as Lineker warmed up the nation with his brand of matey ennui, my jaw dropped as that boss eyed Dr Who whopper delivered some cobbled together piece of state propaganda that good old Dr Goebbels would’ve considered a bit OTT.
Now that the BBC has totally ditched any pretence of impartiality or ‘balance’ as it sucks up to the money men, the ‘Official Olympic Broadcaster Channel’ has entered a broadcasting Higgs Boson. The world has stopped spinning, time has stood still, quantum physics has forced all matter through a wormhole and we have entered an alternative universe where all human evolution and history is compressed into a string theory parallel dimension. In this universe, the theory of everything is reduced to how Team GB are doing in a procession of utterly meaningless so-called ‘sports’ that absolutely nobody (except a fanatical minority of cranks) gives a flying fuck about at any other time. Yachting? Showjumping? Diving? Swimming? Archery? Kerplunk?
Hey, don’t be such a cynic, a moaning minnie, a totally neggo nay sayer doing Britain down maaan! There’s no place for you in today’s reclaiming the union jack, smiley, happy, multicultural, royal loving, Boris and Dave and Nick super summer re-launch of Cool Britannia. Forget the recession, austerity and war cos Blue Peter presenters and Guardian columnists are telling us how utterly brilliant this is for ‘the nation.’ Er, who’s nation? The nation of ‘Brits’ ofcourse with our marvellous sense of humour, our creativity, or sense of fair play and our tolerance of swarthy types. That’s what GBPLC is all about daddio! Get wid da programme or fuck off to Russia.
Those six rings of Dante’s inferno symbolise everything that’s wrong with the corporate, nationalist, macho culture that has turned ‘competition’ into a mantra of modernity. Humans can only run so fast, jump so high, throw so far but each generation throws up yet another procession of genetically modified, juiced up gymnasts and android athletes. See their muscles, sinews, veins, all computerised, chemically controlled and clinically tested to pump blood around the body, quicker, faster, harder, stronger to get the utlimate from limbs and machines. And for what? Muttley medals for the castrated elite of political poseurs who divvy out the world’s stolen dough.
After the CGI duplicity of Beijing and the flash, bang, wallop of fireworks and flag waving thousands, the LondonOlympicsTM opening cermeony promised something very different. The same night, Danny Boyle’s version of Trainspotting was on some digital channel back in the apartment. How very far Danny has come from his much patronised ‘typically northern roots.’ He’s the chattering class’s Gary Barlow, the establishment’s ‘go to’ northern whore. His celebration of a Niall Ferguson meets Lionel Bart New Labour/Nu Tory history lesson was as selective and sanitised as anything the Chinese could throw at the ‘watching billions.’
For example, I was waiting for the following :
Russ Abbott in his dogfight ace outfit flying about in a papier machet Lancaster carpet bombing a miniture Legoland Dresden complete with burning lego kids.
A troupe of Martin McGuinness faced leprechauns smearing shit all over their re-created H Block cells in the ‘state torture’ field.
Hundreds of camp Bow Sreet Runners doing silly dances as they truncheon blacked up miners, kettled students and shot Brazilians in the state oppression section.
Tony & Cherie Blair lookalikes bathing a hot tub of blood as they throw money at starving Africans (all played by local Hackney kids ofcourse)
Zara Phillips riding through a hoop of fire on her pantomime horse (played by Princes Harry and William to show their funny side) before being lanced by ‘love rat’ James Hewitt dressed as the black knight.
Hilarious comic, Jimmy Tarbuck pretending to be Sir Paul McCartney singing ‘Imagine’ to the ghost of John Lennon played by Shane Ritchie.
National icon, Dr Harold Shipman doing his visit of the wards armed with his magical syringe as old ladies played by David Walliams and Matt Lucas recite the lyrics to Killing Me Softly in mock Shakespearean voices.
A re-enactment of the Battle Of Hastings starring the cast of The Only Way Is Essex as the Saxons where the Normans (played by the cast of Made in Chelsea) get their Froggy arses whupped in a pie and mash eating contest served by a Pearly King & Queen played by Ray Winstone and Kathy Burke.
A cute Asian kid selling curry door to door in a cobbled northern street as a white family gather round for their traditional weekly meal; the cute Asian kid on a spit.