Beach volleyball hits Horse Guards Parade (and comes with a very strange soundtrack)
Maybe it’s the troupe of bikini-clad cheerleaders who keep dashing out to dance the conga and writhe on all fours.
Or it could be the Benny Hill theme tune that blasts out every time the linesmen rush forward to rake the sand off the red court lines.
Or perhaps it’s the DJ yelling: ‘This isn’t Wimbledon, you’re allowed to make some noise here!’
Whatever it is, women’s beach volleyball is not your average Olympic sport.
And when Great Britain’s Shauna Mullin and Zara Dampney jog through the drizzle and a tunnel of cheerleaders into the amazing purple 15,000-seat temporary stadium in Horse Guards Parade, it feels a long way from Chariots Of Fire.
When Olympic tickets went on sale in the ballot, beach volleyball was one of the most oversubscribed events, second only to the 100 metres final. A year on, it remains the hot ticket of the Games.
Or, at least, the women’s beach volleyball does. No one seems quite so interested in the men.
It could, of course, be due to the fact that the women display mesmerising skill, above and beyond their male peers.
But it is more likely to be because men play in singlets, baseball hats and baggy knee-length shorts while the women wear very, very, very small bikinis. Or at least they do when the temperature is above 16C. Regulations dictate that when it’s colder than this, they can wear shorts.
Yesterday afternoon, with thermometers bobbing at a perilous 17C, this revelation was a source of grave concern amongst a group of four men drinking pink champagne from plastic glasses at the bar until the men’s matches had finished.
‘Why would they do that to us? Why would they ruin our Olympic experience? This is the only thing we wanted tickets to!’ gasped Jonathan, a shipbroker from London.
Fortunately, his fears were never realised. As a beach volleyball virgin, I have no idea whether London in the rain has the same je ne sais quoi as the sun-kissed beaches of Ipanema, or Santa Monica. Though I assume the cheerleaders don’t usually stand shivering in dressing gowns between dances.
But it doesn’t matter. It is the noisiest, most colourful, bonkers, flesh-revealing thing you can imagine. A bit like the old Saturday night TV show Gladiators, but louder, more shouty and in bikinis with lager.
Now go and read more, see all the pictures, and view the video. HERE.
And who knows, you might see Hillary Clinton on the sand!
“We are going to be telling our children’s children’s children’s children’s children about this day,” promises this Olympic Games worker, whose job it is to direct foot traffic remind people via megaphone HOW EXCITING IT IS to attend the Games.
On a side note, I am see more and more videos on youtube being pulled because of the olympic committee saying they belong to them and are not authorized to be shown!
LOS ANGELES—George Himmelsbaugh, 32, was informed Tuesday that he was incorrect in enjoying a thing he had been deriving pleasure from for many years. Authorities in the field informed Himmelsbaugh that, although he believes his appreciation of the thing to be a matter of subjective personal taste, any positive feelings or satisfaction taken from this are by definition erroneous. Furthermore, sources reported, Himmelsbaugh does not in fact enjoy the thing, but has merely been convinced that he does by the influence of others who also claim to enjoy the thing but who must be insane or developmentally disabled if they actually do. Himmelsbaugh has responded to the information by endeavoring to enjoy the correct things in the future.
And oldie for sure from the ONION.,
James Holmes Charged With 12 Counts Of First-Degree Murder: James Holmes, the suspect in the July 20 shooting massacre at a Colorado movie theater that killed 12, has been charged with 12 counts of first-degree murder, 12 counts of murder with extreme indifference, and 116 counts of attempted murder.
He faces, at minimum, life in prison without parole, and at maximum, the death penalty.
Suspended: A journalist who’s been sh*t-talking NBC via Twitter
Witnessed: A UFO, at Friday’s Opening Ceremonies
Claimed: Obama is a descendant of the first enslaved African-American, by Ancestry.com
Now this is a meal that a real dad would make for his kids!
You Walk Wrong
This shoe and the stilettos and Adidas sneakers on the subsequent pages are trompel’oeil paintings applied directly to the feet. Nice as they look, you can’t buy them.
Makeup by John Maurad and Jenai Chin.
(Photo: Tom Schierlitz)
Walking is easy. It’s so easy that no one ever has to teach you how to do it. It’s so easy, in fact, that we often pair it with other easy activities—talking, chewing gum—and suggest that if you can’t do both simultaneously, you’re some sort of insensate clod. So you probably think you’ve got this walking thing pretty much nailed. As you stroll around the city, worrying about the economy, or the environment, or your next month’s rent, you might assume that the one thing you don’t need to worry about is the way in which you’re strolling around the city.
Well, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you: You walk wrong.
Look, it’s not your fault. It’s your shoes. Shoes are bad. I don’t just mean stiletto heels, or cowboy boots, or tottering espadrilles, or any of the other fairly obvious foot-torture devices into which we wincingly jam our feet. I mean all shoes. Shoes hurt your feet. They change how you walk. In fact, your feet—your poor, tender, abused, ignored, maligned, misunderstood feet—are getting trounced in a war that’s been raging for roughly a thousand years: the battle of shoes versus feet.