Rah rah r – oh, fuff.

I just received an email from London 2012 that says:

“The Olympic Flame is coming to you. Get ready to line the streets.”

Look, I’m wearing palazzos (bright coral!) which I can literally fit all four of my cats into the bottoms of. I know this because I tried it earlier. They’re still there. It’s a bit limiting, but I have very warm shins.

*does the comme ci comme ça hand thing*

ANYWAY, even wearing these trousers, even if I wore these trousers with the cats still in them, I don’t feel I would be capable of “lining the street” on my own. I mean, it’s probably their sweet way of saying “Yo Chillz, that’s a lot of ba-donk-a-donk you’re rocking, there. We feel your sweet ass is of a volume great enough to give you a shot at this impossible-sounding task without assistance.” I’m fairly sure that’s what they were trying to communicate to me, and that the intention behind that email was good. But if London 2012 is relying on me to be solely responsible for “lining the streets” as the Olympic torch passes through borough after borough, I’m going to have to write back to them and explain that there are some logistical problems in that scenario, viz:

– It is a bit cold and dull out.
– Presumably I would be expected to keep up with the Olympic torch, as part of my “lining the streets” task, so the bearer would be cheered and uplifted on her, his or hir journey. Presumably the Olympic torch is in the hands of an athlete. I’m guessing that athlete might be going quite quickly, as that is generally what they are known for, and that as part of the task I expected to keep pace with them, sideways, while cheering. I am not sure I’m up to the task. I mean: I could be. But after about the first, say, fifteen seconds, I suspect I very quickly wouldn’t be.
– In an effort to line the streets as effectively as possible I will attempt to present as wide a profile as I can. I will therefore be in my (bright coral!) palazzos with the cats. I fear the cats may become alarmed by me poinging along, sideways, while shouting. I fear, in short, that the situation south of my knees will get ugly.
– I am not well enough to stand for more than a couple of minutes, today. I mean, I might be, on the day/s the whole gig happens, because quite often I am. But I can’t guarantee it, as this situation applies with monotonous regularity.

I wonder if I might write back and suggest they send this email to a few other people as well.

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