Crowds
Crowds sit and watch sporting events, injecting their own hygienic mix of territorial pride and drunken swansong into the unfolding drama of live sport.
That is, until some prize muffin points a camera at a couple of them and they see themselves on the big screen. At this point, no matter what creed or colour, black or white, rich or poor, for better for worse, in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part, the morons will start cheering and waving uncontrollably at their own projection.
In 108% of cases this makes them look unfathomably stupid: you know for a fact that they could quite quickly and easily determine the location of the camera that was shooting them, but no, they don't bother and carry on hollering like a bunch of idiots, in the wrong direction. Nicely done fellas, you're now all official tools.
It's nice to see the occasional conservative chap politely nudging their partner and pointing to the screen, the pair of them modestly and self-consciously trying to subdue their surprise with a faint smile, but then allowing themselves to move on and focus on the real matter at hand: the true despondency of human civilisation and the world we live in the sport. We don't get many of them nowadays, though. (Not since the credit crunch, sob sob sob sob sob sob sob sob sob.)
Copyright © 2003 - 2008, Tim Halbert. All rights reserved.