There is, I thought, no limit to the depths of inanity in the world of commentary, but I've discovered there really is a bottom to the trough that holds the numerous overpaid people whose jobs involve talking at us non-stop while sportsmen and sportswomen go about their business. This afternoon I've endured the athletics meeting in Birmingham, shown on the BBC. The first thing to acknowledge is that the is seemingly no way in which just one or two commentators can manage, and as a result, the BBC insists on paying loads of people to chat to each other and swap crap while we listen in. With about 100 being paid for babbling in Sochi, it would be unfair not to use as many commentators as possible for athletics in the UK.
Two of the worst offenders are Colin Jackson and Denise Lewis, who have together caused me to switch channels. There is a limit to my tolerance of the bollocks being presented to me. To be fair, the format for commentary is so tired and predictable, with people asking dumb questions, and setting up responses that tell us nothing at all, let alone anything of fucking interest.
Colin is annoying, but Denise is simply in a league of her own, and her 'abilities' in respect of presenting and commentating are at the bottom of the trough. I cannot begin to relay the full extent of her input, but just to give you an idea:
"She's obviously travelled from Jamaica"
This was in reference to Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce [no, I haven't made that name up, and it does seem greedy - double double-barrels] who was the athlete from . . . . yes, you've guessed correctly - Jamaica. Denise went on:
"She looked very relaxed, came out of the blocks . . . . . "
No shit, Sherlock! Later on, another athlete was the focus of Denise's attention, and we were told:
"She'll be getting her head into competitive mode."
Thanks, Denise, for that wonderful insight into how the event's fastest athlete is preparing to run.
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