Wednesday, 12 November 2014

Counting Chickens, Abrasive Spice and why I don’t miss regular rail commutes

Kei Nishikori: Andy Murray's misfortune was to this man's delight

I’m a great believer in, and regular user of, the phrase “if I didn’t have bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all.”

This rather neatly sums up my cup half-empty view of the world and my expectations that things are never far from taking a turn for the worse.

However, it turns out I can be lulled into a false sense of security, because last week I thought I’d had a stroke of luck.

About nine months ago I bought tickets for the ATP World Tour Finals tennis at the O2, not knowing who had qualified or which of the top eight players I would then get to see.

It isn’t a complete shot in the dark though; whatever happens you get to see two of the top eight ranked players, and you can usually take for granted the appearance of four or five certainties.

This year though, the race to London was a particularly topsy-turvy affair with two surprise Grand Slam winners and other players emerging as real threats, while top five stalwarts, David Ferrer and Britain’s Andy Murray, struggled to hold on to their rankings.

For a while it didn’t look like Murray would make The O2, but a great six-week run, that saw him capture three titles, made sure he got the job done.

Not only did Murray make it to London, he just happened to get drawn to play in the match I had tickets for… a real stroke of luck?

For a few days leading up to the game I thought so, but as soon as Murray dropped serve with two double faults in the first set, I started to have my doubts.

As it turned out, we were treated to the Brit’s worst performance in about three months as he had no answer to Kei Nishikori’s dynamic game, and as it turned out, I had counted that particular ‘lucky’ chicken before the egg had hatched. Nishikori was good though…

On this Saturday’s X Factor show Louis Walsh called Mel B Old Spice, quick-witted humour that I didn’t expect from the man who claps like a giddy seal and recycles his comments and critiques with an intense environmental enthusiasm.

That name served its purpose on Saturday, but I think a more suitable alteration from Scary Spice would be Abrasive Spice.

Added to the judging panel this year, she must have been given the task of shaking things up a bit and being the mean judge now Simon Cowell has been ‘mellowed’ by parenthood.

This has essentially resulted in the most detestable behaviour being dressed up as straight, blunt, or worst of all, ‘real’ talking.

This rudeness culminated in her reaction after the sing-off Sunday night.

Her act Paul out-sung Simon’s act Jay, but compared to some of the sing-offs in the series, they were both very impressive.

When electing to save his own act, Simon praised both singers and said it boiled down to backing his act, as it always does.

Rather than doing the same, yet again Mel decided to be rude.

“Based on that it’s an absolute no brainer… it’s obvious, the person I’m sending home is Jay.”

Praise for her act, but nothing at all for the other contestant, who was by no means the weakest left in the competition, nor was he poor in the sing-off.

The reaction of Mel and her act Paul once it had been sent to deadlock, and the public vote sent him home, was also hard to watch.

In that position you can’t expect him not to be disappointed, but his reaction was not disappointment, it was disgust and disbelief, and that’s unacceptably arrogant.

However good a singer you are, you need more to win that show, and I can’t be the only person who thinks he lacks that bit more, because he came bottom of the public vote.

A small aside from tennis and talent shows, I also had the unpleasant experience of travelling on a busy train over the weekend, one I don’t miss tackling regularly.

The standard gripe of the commuter is people refusing to move down the carriage, but on top of that I had to combat two of the lesser discussed, but equally annoying issues: people who sit in the doorway, and people who can’t stand still.

Getting on to a busy train is enough of a struggle without people setting up camp in the door way and making no effort to not be in the way.

Similarly, while you have to accept your personal space is going to be invaded on a busy train, it’s 1000 times worse if that person is continually fidgeting and brushing against you trying to see out of the window into the darkness.


You couldn’t see anything when you looked out 15 seconds ago, what makes you think you will this time..?    

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