Olympic gymnastics here I come.


Stumbling blocks to me becoming an Olympic gymnast:

Genes: Mostly English/Scottish/Irish/Jerseyan. Yip, the rainy grey isles. My innit genes are strong. With a good dose of German in there for fun.  Neither regions are notorious for their gymnastic skill. Famous rather for inventing sports that they can never win at, and delicious , juicy sausages. What I need is some Eastern European/Asian connection to get me leaping and twisting about. Famous for communism and discipline.

Age: Am getting on a bit, perhaps. However, there is a gymnast competing in this Olympics who is 33, and she kicks butt. So there is time. I have a head start, I can already do cartwheels. 

Height: In layman’s eyes I am a midget and get called “hobbit” often. In gymnastics terms I am a giant and they will need a ladder to place that gold medal around my neck. 

Um, girth: I am too heavy to be a gymnast. Will go through the floor upon completion of my twisting double back. 

Decrepitude: my back is screwed, my shoulder recently sliced open. I can barely move, never mind pull off Yurochenkos at will.

Talent: Have none. Can barely tell right from left, never mind spin sideways while rotating forward at the same time, and pointing my toes.

fashion sense: I have none but I know better than to perform perfect splits in a piece of cloth that barely covers your pelvic region and looks like it is made of foil. And use 5kgs of hair gel.

Country of birth: When was the last time you saw a South African team/individual in the Olympics gymnastics? When was the last time you saw a South African gymnast? (Unless of course you are one, in which case you see them all the time).

Era: If I lived in the bloody twenties I’m sure my perfectly executed forward rolls would score me a perfect ten.

A few minor obstacles, I admit, but this is what I want to be when I grow up. A lean, mean, rotating machine. Just suspend your disbelief for now.

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