Mar. 2nd, 2006

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In a couple of weeks, Melbourne will play host to the Commonwealth Games (for those who don't live in the British Commonwealth, imagine a summer Olympics in which Australia, Canada, New Zealand, South Africa and the individual countries of the UK celebrate beating Tonga at lawn bowls). I'm, well, a touch underwhelmed by it all, I must admit.

These Games don't have a torch but a baton, and we have been getting regular news updates on where it is and what it's doing each day. Torch or baton, this always strikes me as odd, as if the thing has free will and the ability to move itself about. "Today the baton went to Gippsland, and tomorrow it will be heading out to sea." Not like there's any people carrying it at all, just a baton jaunting about on holiday.

The baton will be sight-seeing in the City by the Sea later this week, and because it's predictable that there's always someone unhappy about something, there's been a bit of a kerfuffle about it. The baton's big photo opportunity here was that it was going to be carried down the beach by an ex-jockey on a locally famous, 28-year-old ex-racehorse. The jockey has hurt his foot and can't ride, so the organisers have given him another leg to run alone, and given the horse-back beach leg to another ex-jockey on another locally famous ex-racehorse. So the first jockey has gone to the paper, complaining that while he's happy with the new thing he's got, he's disappointed for his horse.

So the horse is upset it can't carry the sentient baton. Right.

*****


And I mean: always someone unhappy about something )

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