BBC1
Fucking Steve Redgrave. If anything shows up Sports Personality of the Year at 60 as the worthless backslap parade it is it’s his presence. Dominant in an event approximately 28 people worldwide can afford to be competitive in he nonetheless gets pride of place in discussions of greatest Olympian and most awesome Superman that ever lived. There are probably dozens of African, Filipino and Venezuelan Redgraves who will never get the chance to prove it because i) the sport is as out of their price range as Toby Kebbell is out of his depth when forced to perform with other grown-ups and ii) it’s rowing – who gives a shit? But he won 5 Olympic medulls so he must be an ATG. Christ, this show. These people.
The sport is as out of their price range as Toby Kebbell is out of his depth when forced to perform with other grown-up
We are taken through the event’s history, from its early days of inaugural winner Chris Shataway, through the swinging 60s that ushered in Stirling Toss and Henry Pooper, then onto the 1970s when Jackie Poowart triumphed and nation’s sweetheart Princess Bland beat George Best into second place in 1971. Later Princess Anne tribute act Red Rum rolled up into the studio and delighted everyone by not shitting anywhere. He couldn’t actually win the prize – he was a fucking horse.
Princess Anne tribute act Red Rum rolled up into the studio and delighted everyone by not shitting anywhere.
This is everything wrong with everything. Much like the hideous Olympics, Sports Personality of the Year is a presentation of sport aimed squarely at people who don’t like it. It actively encourages the views of people who want nothing to do with sport, who care little and know less about it. Small wonder that Lames Cordung appears reminiscing on his superhumanly unfunny turn as Smithy.
Much like the hideous Olympics, Sports Personality of the Year is a presentation of sport aimed squarely at people who don’t like it.
Fucking Pleb Coe, Jizz McColgan and Badley Piggins all get their mugs in before we see Muhammad Ali shaking like a bastard receiving his Sports Personality of the Century in 1990 whatever. Clare Balding takes time off from constructing funeral pyres for the ever-growing pile of horse corpses on her private racecourse to show her face so legions of soulless Twitter groupie dickriders who despise sport can fap themselves senseless over her.
Clare Balding takes time off from constructing funeral pyres for the ever-growing pile of horse corpses on her private racecourse to show her face.
“But don’t we want to attract more people towards sport?” No we do not. Waddle back to your hovels, dilettante filth. You have no business here.
The verdict: Hell is eternity watching James Corden on stage in a tracksuit say things like “Look there’s Becks!” as a studio audience collapses helpless with laughter.
Marks out of 10: 5
