Friday, 26 October 2012

Blog post Gangnam Style!

It’s me! I’m back! Oh how kind of you! Of course I missed you too! Right. Are we done with that now? For the sake of all that’s British, get a grip of yourselves.

It has been a rather lengthy period of time, though, and I sincerely apologise for having deprived you all of my commentary of some truly exciting events in real-time, and indeed now, because whilst they were all great fun, there are more pressing matters at hand. 

But as with almost every rule in existence (possibly excluding the laws of physics), I shall make one quick exception to comment on what was undoubtably the two most exciting things to have taken place in Britain in my lifetime: the Olympic and Paralympic games. Like with the Jubilee, though, I wasn’t there for it. Bugger. I did manage to make it back in time to watch some of the Paralympic coverage, and may I just say, it was a jolly good show. If I may, I would like to personally congratulate Jonnie Peacock for his performance in the T44 100m, which was, in my own opinion, the highlight of both sets of games. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but along with Oreos stopping having the creamy bit in the middle, isn’t a Brit winning gold at a sprinting event one of the harbingers of the apocalypse? Just a thought...

Although many of us are still revelling in our joy, let us be honest with ourselves for a moment, and only for a moment please, because we don’t want to be too sensible for too long. We all expected the games to flop. Come on, the London Underground is overcrowded and ridden with problems at the best of times! Can any of us honestly say that we expected it to cope with an enormous influx of passengers? I certainly didn’t. Although us Brits are a proud, noble, and quite marvellous bunch of chaps (if I may say so myself), we do have a seemingly limitless ability to ridicule and belittle ourselves. But it did work. And next to Jonnie, that was the thing that I found most remarkable. Headlines were smattered around the papers, claiming that the games “rekindled national pride”. Indeed they did, but it won’t take long for that flame to flicker out, allowing us to go back to being our grumpy selves once again. Perfect. Just the way (uh huh uh huh) we like it.

Having missed the Olympics, I decided that I must find some alternative method of compensating this missed opportunity to be cultural, and what better way do have done this than by making a trip to the Tate Modern. It may be an odd thing to do, but as with Marmite, I love it. Sadly, though, many of my friends and colleagues do not share the same views. On modern art that is; many of them do like Marmite. It took several attempts at persuading a certain someone to accompany me to the gallery, and after finding out that it was compulsory for their university assignment, they were roped into it. Score. Strangely though, they showed a certain reluctance towards the whole thing. Apparently (still talking about modern art here), it is, to quote one of the more polite adjectives associate with it, “crap”. And I agree. A lot of it is. One so called ‘piece’ that is currently on display was, as far as I could tell, just a giant sheet of squared paper! You know, the kind of sort that you got in maths exercise books in school. What rubbish. I shall have to put a word in with Her Maj to have the ‘artist’ taken to the Tower immediately.

Now, I’d guess that 85% of the gallery is made up of such tosh, but that is the beauty of it. It’s like shopping at LIDL; you have to forage for hours until you find something worth looking at. I would like to have made a more accurate estimation of the ratio of utter bollocks to interesting things, but after visiting two of the four galleries, I was promptly dragged out, since my company had decided that they had had enough of staring at bits of mud smeared on canvas. Whats more, they were in such a rush to escape that we even missed afternoon tea! Honestly. What disgraceful behaviour. 

Sticking with this theme of culture, I feel it is my duty to Queen, country, and the people of the internet to comment on what is perhaps the biggest viral hit in history. A hit so big, that our beloved Boris and not-so-beloved Cameron have taken to dancing to it. Yes, Gangnam Style has become quite something. Now although it isn’t really British, I would like to bring two and a half points to your attention. The half being that you don’t get to chose what goes into this blog, but I do. So ha. Being more constructive, though, there is a quite fantastic, royally approved (in my mind), parody on a little website called YouTube. If you haven’t already, put down your mug of Earl Grey (I feel fancy on Fridays), search for “London Style”, and be amused. 

The final, and perhaps the most important reason as to why I have brought it up is because I would like to start a petition. Not one of those dull ones when some politician knocks on your door and unsuccessfully spends several dreary minutes explaining as to why they have failed so badly in life that it has led them to their current position. Heavens, no. I want to do a proper one. One which relates to every member of the public and not some shiny fore-headed prime minister. I propose that instead of marching in unison during the changing of the guard, that every single one of those beefeaters dances Gangnam Style towards their new position. How great would that be?! We could do it during Trooping of the Colour as well! Imagine how much more exciting the procession would be! Sod it, I’m going to write a letter to Her Maj as we speak to inform her of my marvellous idea. I’m sure I can get Mr Boris on my side too. 

Well, that’s it for now. I will strive to the best of my endeavours to not leave you for that length of time ever again, unless my inevitable appointment as the orchestrator of royal events occupies too much of my time. Keep calm!


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