Monday
Every Olympics ends the same way. A lot of people talk nonsense about legacy and increased participation in sport for a week or so. Then most of the country forgets all about the Olympics for another four years and piles on the pounds. It’s almost as if there’s a quantity theory of exercise: the more medals Team GB wins, the fatter and lazier everyone else becomes. Breaking this cycle might be a little easier if we weren’t so obviously insincere in mouthing off platitudes like “It’s not the winning, it’s the taking part” when those athletes who came back from Rio without a medal are treated like pariahs. On the plane home, it was the gold medallists who got to turn left and pose with the cabin crew in first class. The silver and bronze medallists got to sit in premium economy, while the rest had to wedge themselves into the favelas of steerage. If that wasn’t bad enough, the losers were airbrushed out of all the “hero’s welcome” photos and left to make their own way home, where there was almost certainly a letter waiting for them saying their lottery funding had been cut.
Tuesday
Embarrassment is now becoming second nature to the Labour party, but its cock-up architects excelled themselves with Traingate. Releasing at least eight different versions of the same event is never a good look. Nor is the discovery that none of Jeremy Corbyn’s advisers could get hold of him to agree one of the eight versions because the Labour leader was at a critical point in his jam making. But regardless of whether there were or weren’t any free seats available on the Virgin train from London to Newcastle, one thing stands out. The trip to Gateshead wasn’t planned at the last minute, so why did no one think to reserve the four seats on the service? Corbyn has at least four people working for him: surely one of them must have had some experience in booking train tickets on the internet? There seems to be only one way to make sure this kind of thing never happens again. Nationalise his back office.
Wednesday
The day is rapidly approaching when Theresa May’s government is actually going to have to do something, rather than talking about what it isn’t going to do. Most eyes will be on the Toxic Triumvirate of Boris Johnson, David Davis and Liam Fox, who are nailed-on certainties to fall out over the Brexit negotiations, but those looking for amusement in likely Tory incompetence should also keep a look out for Jeremy Hunt, Andrea Leadsom and Chris Grayling. Hunt has achieved a unique double by being the first health secretary to be equally disliked by the NHS and his own government department. Meanwhile, as environment, food and rural affairs secretary, Leadsom has the poisoned chalice of explaining to all those people in Cornwall and Wales who voted for Brexit why the government won’t be matching the EU subsidies, as she promised in the referendum campaign. The dark horse, though, is Grayling. As the man behind May’s ascent to No 10, he might have expected one of the great offices of state. That May felt she could only give him transport shows how little faith she has in his abilities. Expect some fun with the third runway and HS2.
Thursday
“Moist” is the frontrunner in an online poll conducted by Oxford Dictionaries to find the country’s most hated word. Moist also happens to be one of the favourite words of presenters Mel Giedroyc and Sue Perkins in The Great British Innuendo, which began its seventh series on Wednesday and was watched by more than 10 million viewers. So I’d guess the country can’t hate “moist” that much. The return of Bake Off rather passed me by – I can’t get too worked up about people beating the odds to create the perfect lemon drizzle cake. There’s something about a programme that has been perfectly edited to be deliberately feelgood that leaves me feeling anything but. Not that I’m immune to emotional manipulation; it’s just I prefer it to be done with a little more subtlety, so I can believe my tears are forming of their own volition. Which is why my own autumn TV highlight is sure to be the return of Cold Feet. Heartstrings tugged at room temperature.
Friday
It’s not yet clear who paid for Nigel Farage to make a guest appearance at Donald Trump’s election rally in Mississippi, but, based on past form, it is unlikely to have been him. Nigel generally likes to let others – the EU in particular – take the strain when it comes to his political adventures. It’s also probable that just as few Americans knew who the hell he was as there are Brits who recognise any of the names on the list of candidates to take over the Ukip leadership. With Suzanne Evans suspended for being too normal and Steven Woolfe, Farage’s preferred candidate, being too dopey to submit his forms on time, the field has been left clear for a bunch of no-hopers that have almost as little name recognition within the party as without. Anyone heard of Lisa Duffy, Phillip Broughton, Bill Etheridge or Elizabeth Jones? Thought not. Even Liam Fox might stand a chance against that lot. The frontrunner is Diane James, who has put everyone’s backs up by refusing to turn up for any of the hustings. Stand by for the fallout when the new leader is announced at Ukip’s conference on 16 September.
Digested week, digested: Repetitive train injury
