Stop hors­ing around with Games NOW!

Midweek Sport - - NEWS -

LIKE ev­ery­one else, I thought the Olympic Games were amaz­ing.

A gazil­lion medals, in­cred­i­ble open­ing and clos­ing cer­e­monies and Vic­to­ria Pendle­ton’s bot­tom.

Never be­fore has a na­tion sud­denly and col­lec­tively marched to the shed to take to their rusty Grifters.

And never has a per­vert been hap­pier at the plethora of sweaty bi­cy­cle seats for which to now sniff hun­grily at.

But un­like al­most ev­ery­one else, I didn’t take to the eques­trian events.

The sight of a posh tw*t strad­dling a horse while it trots back and forth on the spot is not, in my hum­ble opin­ion, a sport.

Fac­ing down a 20 stone Rus­sian munter in the wrestling is a proper sport.

Run­ning a zil­lion times around a track just a bit faster than ev­ery­one else is a sport.

Even bad­minton, which is es­sen­tially a shit ver­sion of tennis – tennis for pen­sion­ers, if you like – is a sport.

But sat on top of a horse with­out a cock while it prances around like it’s got mad cow dis­ease is not, and never will be, a sport.

There is of course noth­ing wrong in the slight­est with ask­ing women to put tight jodh­purs on for our lazy view­ing plea­sure.

But let’s all stop pre­tend­ing that this dres­sage lark is any­thing other than what it is.

And, es­sen­tially, that is try­ing to make a horse stand al­most still. Rub­bish. Now please move along.

Zara Phillips. F***ing c***!

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