Having been in America for a while, I'm a stranger to these BBC voting extravaganzas. I sat watching the SPOTY* in a state of mesmerised horror. Is this way-over-the-top hysterical celebrity screamfest normal these days? And what was that woman with the silly hairdo doing there, crooning her tuneless songs? I thought it was supposed to be about sport. And why the absurd pseudo-poetic voice-overs, when all you wanted to see was a recap of the action.
Not like I remember from the old days, when the adulation, such as it was, was more in proportion to the people being celebrated. A bit more down to earth. When Sebastian Coe did his 10,000 metre walk to the stage - admittedly looking a little embarrassed, you'd think it was the Second Coming. And those poor women athletes squeezed, no doubt by some hip stylist, into bum-crushing catwalk gowns and stilettos, looking as though they might fall over any minute. And I was terrified that Kate was going to be sick.
This is not to denigrate team GB's glorious achievements and the huge, happy success of the London Olympics, which I watched enviously from America.
But did anyone else try to vote for Andy Murray and get a robot voice saying that the number wasn't recognised? I reckon it was a fix, or Bradley's gran was working overtime with her redial. But on the other hand, Bradley's a good bloke and thoroughly deserved his win.
* For the benefit of my American friends, that's the Sports Personality of the Year Show.
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