Motherisms: Olympic Special …

It’s early August and there’s a party feeling in the air … the Olympics has arrived in London and down in Devon, mum’s about to have her hip replaced.
But before my mother is turned in to a cyborg I went down to spend some time with her.

 

We are with my Godmother in her hotel room, as we wait for her to get ready for supper we watch some athletes come out ….

Mum: Ah! More beautiful boys, just in time!
Me: That’s a girl mum.

 

It’s the next evening and we have just had another lovely supper with my godmothers, mum is obviously chuffed with her unwavering group of friends and says …

“You see darling, the older you get, the less you have to put up with people who bore the shit out of you. And I’m bloody old”.

 

Mum on the subject of Wayne Rooneys “geriatric prostitutes” …

“Rooney’d go a bundle on me”.

 

We’re having supper with a few friends and have drunk quite a lot of wine. I can’t quite remember why I was stereotyping Italians and shouting “I gotta getta ma pasta”, but I was …

Mum, outraged: What?!
I repeat: I gotta getta ma pasta?
Mum: Oh! Thank God. I thought you said “I gotta getta ma pants down”.

 

Hungarian wins gold in gymnastics …

Mum: Oh fantastic! Ex-communist state you see … he’s hungry!
Me: Mmm …
Mum: He’ll buy a huge house and a bullet proof Landrover now.
Me: Lovely.
Mum: He’ll need one …

Mum goes down a friends drive and tuts ….

“Someone’s brambles need a trim”.

 

Mother is on the phone to my Godfather, this is what I hear …

“Oh right, so you’re both trollying about starkers?”
“Are there any other nudists?”
“Aren’t they cold?”
“Are they attractive?”
“No, didn’t think so. Very selfish activity”.

 

Mum is admiring another Olympian with a rather fantastic profile, if you like a giant conk.

“He’ll get fat though … big meal, big car, many prostitute”.

 

In order to succeed in my desired career, I have been told I need to be veiner, or at least  brush my hair … I have heeded this advice and am preening myself in the mirror …

Mum: What are you doing?

Me: Working on my vanity …

Mum: Don’t work too hard.

 

Watching the mens 100 meters heats, there is a minute Japenese guy in with herds of gigantic adonises. As it turns out, the little lad’s pretty speedy …

“Look at the Japenese guy go! GO!! GO YOU BEAUTIFUL FAIRY!!”

 

We are watching Morse, mum has her operation on the brain …

“Old people are a lot like children, but at the same time, you know with children it might get better, with old people it will only get worse … now, turn it up, there’s bound to be a body before we leave”.

 

Mo Farrah wins the 10,000 meters … as we watch a number of close ups mum says …

“Beautifully shaped head …. Just look at those bones!”

 

Usain Bolt wins the 100m, mum admires his physique as we watch him run again in very slow motion…

“Fucking poetry in motion man.”

 

Bolt is shaking hands with the crowd, a mascot is chasing him arond the track brandishing a miniature golden mascot at him …

Me: Run!
Mum: What the hell is that?!
Me: A mascot.
Mum: Oh my God! Get rid of it Bolt! Knock it out!

 

We are driving around the moors trying to find the riding stables, but out of the few signs that there are, none of them indicate towards our destination. We have gone around in a giant circle twice already, it’s only 9am ….

Mum: Imagine how exciting it would have been when they turned all the signs around to dupe the Germans!

 

An american athlete has just missed out on an opportunity to run in the finals, distraught, he is herded towards an interviewer, we do not approve …

Mum: It’s all this reality tv. This sentimentalising of everything. They want to see you cry. Cry for the public you poor bastard, otherwise we’re not interested!

 

The weather comes on ….

Weather man: Wednesday it will dry up, brighten up, heat up.
Mum: Just in time for me to go to hospital. Great!

 

We are in the car on the way to the train station, mum starts indicating left, but keeps going straight on …

Me: Are you going left?
Mum: No.
Me: That’ll dupe the Germans.
Mum: Exactly.

 

I’m sorry I didn’t get to watch the rest of the Olympics with you mumma, it would have been a much more pleasurable experience I’m sure. I’m also sorry I’m not with you for the operation tomorrow but I am, as is everyone I know, sending you all my love and can’t wait to see you marching along the moors again x x x

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