Olympic fun & games

Hey—I told you that the Olympic Games in London would be entertaining even before they open, didn’t I? And so they are.

First, the actual opening ceremony is creating more drama than three rival high school cliques on a class trip. They’re being put on by filmmaker Danny Boyle, who’s been having run-ins with the official Olympics broadcasters, as well as falling victim to the realities of London public transport.

Boyle is probably looking back fondly on the storyline of his Trainspotting as being a cakewalk in comparison to his current gig. It’s so bad that LOCOG has actually admitted that there are “creative tensions”. When an official body concedes that there’s a slight problem, you know there are rivers of blood flowing.

For one thing, Boyle is fighting with organizers over camera positions for the company he’s hired to film the ceremony (in addition to the official games crews) as a narrative. I’m reminded here of the battles between Leni Riefenstahl and Josef Goebbels over the exact same thing back in 1936. She won and we got Olympia. Wonder what we’ll get out of this squabble?

Whatever it is, it’s going to be shorter than Boyle had planned: he’s had to cut 30 minutes from his extravaganza on account of otherwise no one’s sure people who’ve shelled out a week’s salary or more to attend will be able to get home afterward. That’s because London transport shuts down at 0230—a huge concession from the workforce, a screaming one hour after normal quitting time.

This doesn’t actually surprise me a lot, because British infrastructure workers and institutions aren’t really known for their flexibility. Example: I was on my way to a job interview in London on the Tube, when the train just halted at Edgware Road and stayed there. After some minutes (minutes, I tell you), someone came over the PA system to kindly inform us that the driver of this train had ended his shift and done what he always does, walked away; and the new driver hadn’t shown up yet, so we’d sit there (and every train behind us would sit wherever it was) until the next shift wandered in.

(And don't get me started on the tsuris it takes to open a bank account.)

Several million people coming to your country, paying many times over the odds for food, accommodation and other goods and services? Hey—they can just get stuffed. Sixty thousand revelers trying to get back to their hotels from the opening ceremony? If the job’s not done by quitting time, not your problem. Let 'em walk.

(They cut a whole three to four minutes from the schedule by axing a routine by stunt bikers. They’ll still get paid and get credit, but of course it’s not the same thing.)

But wait—there’s more. Again, as could have been predicted by anyone who’s ever spent more than 23 minutes in the country, those merry folks at HM immigration announced yesterday that they’re going on a 24-hour strike next Thursday, the day before the opening ceremony.

(Now, an interesting facet of this strike is that the PCS union is acting on a vote by their members: 57% of the only 20% of union members who actually returned their ballots voted for the walk-out. That would be basically 11% of their total membership. So 80% couldn't even be bothered. Not exactly what I'd call vox populi, but I guess the leaders feel they have to be seen to be taking action.)

Of course, if HM Government would like to avert the prospect of immigration queues at LHR stretching back to Philadelphia, they can accede to the union’s demands regarding pay, conditions and proposed job cuts.

Well, I’m sure we ain’t seen nothing yet. So stay tuned to the all-games-all-fun channel.