I woke up this morning telling myself I wouldn’t apply for Olympic tickets a second time around. First time out we got nada….niet….nothing. I was kinda pissed at this to be honest, when the Olympic games were announced as being in London I was ecstatic and whilst everyone was bitching about the cost and the site and the legacy and the blah blah blah….well I was chuffed.
And when the chance came to register for information on tickets….well I was there too. The little Woo dudes are students of Taekwondo, the bigger one is taking his black belt exam in September aged 12 and the little(r) one isn’t far behind. So naturellement we thought that TKD tickets were the way to go.
The thing is, the criteria were all wrong. In my mind the selection should have been….
1) Did you ever take the piss/moan about the games coming to London? If yes then do one.
2) Do you do any sport at all yourself or do you consider cutting pizza to be the pinnacle of your athletic prowess? If yes, do one (and go for a jog).
3) Are you having to borrow money in order to buy these tickets? If yes, do one and read about the debt crisis in the Western world.
4) Can you explain the rules of the sport or event that you are applying to see? If no (you see….a trick answer!) then do one and read a book.
5) Are you called Woo? If No (keeping up the trick answer) then do one, unless you are a stunningly attractive female, with the patience of a saint and the ability to suck golf balls through a hose – in which case call me
Sadly the appointment for ticket rule creator went to someone else (less qualified) and hence we all end up in this pickle. And what happens?
I bloody well bow down to media pressure and buy some. Bugger. Because at the end of the day….well I have to keep up with the Joneses don’t I?
And if that wasn’t enough, when I came to tell Mrs. W. the text conversation went something like this,
Me: Men’s volleyball……..
Her: As in beach volley? *closes eyes and prays*
I mean really…….talk about rubbing salt in the wound…..