04/03/2014 | by Sam McMahon
After a long weekend at home in the Alps getting some much-needed pow turns in, I’m now heading back to the UK in order to give the Olympics the coverage it deserves (from Cornwall?). Whilst in transit I was made all too aware of how 24hr news has made journalism a 24hr profession.
During my mere two-hour transfer to the airport all hell broke loose in the world of snowboarding, Shaun White has quit Olympic slopestyle! (If you hadn’t heard.) Emails and Twitter madness assaulted my eyes as soon as I opened my laptop and connected to the Geneva WIFI. All I could do to be vaguely useful was to stab around at various news sources and sift through endless banal ‘tweets’ until I was thankfully let onto the plane.
Once again I was blissfully shut off from the world of the web, where I now type from my digital fortress of solitude, terrified that I might be missing more essential news. Scared that I might appear useless to my fairly new employers, as a contingency plan I’ve decided to prepare for the worse and type up some potential Olympic stories in order to hit the ground running.
This is the news that could have happened.
Todd Richards takes Shaun White’s slopestyle spot
After hours of jetlagged and boozy re-tweets from his own Road (Plane) to Sochi, the former Olympic-hopeful downs the last tiny-Absolut in the hotel mini bar and in his anger El Blanco’s ‘white out’ uses his new found Dutch courage to once again take to the slopes. Angry at the pre-pubescent beings he finds sliding around the course, he beats his way to the top of the course to re-unveil his ledgendary drunken-blindfolded-McTwist. The Sochi judges are won over by the stench of vodka emanating from our hero and award him the gold, finally.
Shaun White pulls out of snowboard halfpipe and unveils scooter vert comp out back
In an extra twist to the (cynical I know) publicity stunt, the Tomahawking Tangerine decries, “YOLO! And as such it is time to live out my secret fantasy as a professional scooter-er.” He leads press round the back of his private Olympic Village to unveil his signature Target halfpipe. Justin Beiber joins him as the sole competitors at the inaugural ‘White Games*.’
*Nothing whatsoever to do with the BNP.
Parrot and Toots land quads in practice
Spurred on by the success of their earlier Twitter campaigns aga, Max and Seb turn on themselves and decry each other as pussys. Egged on by their digital followers, they enter a series of one-upmanships until finally the inevitable happens and the quadruple-cork is born. But hold on! It turns out Torstein landed one months before on a secret kicker in Norway, and had been sitting on the footage. Once again we are denied the ultimate match-up promised to us by the Olympic dream.
Once again we are denied the ultimate match-up promised to us by the Olympic dream.
Sage Kotsenburg and Aimee Fuller found to be hosts organisms to backflip aliens
After posing with their identi-locks on Instagram earlier, Sage and Aimee discover that the source of their inverted powers actually comes from a parasitic organism that lives within, causing them both to be blessed with their untameable blonde tresses and picture-perfect backflips. To celebrate their new-found union, Sage tries to instigate another round of topless doubles on the jumps, just like with Halldor in the X Games last month. Aimee is puzzlingly not keen.
Team USA fashion designers rip out own eyes
After finally seeing their creations in action, the creators of Team America’s pastel patchwork ensembles decide they’ve caused the world enough pain for one lifetime and decide to peacefully pass away together by drinking poisoned punch in a hotel room, a la the eventual end of every dangerous cult. The fashion world accepts their offering and forgives them.
Anyway, that’s all I had time to come up with on my flight, but I honestly can’t imagine that I’ve missed the mark by too much. I’m guessing at least one of those things happened. Happy Olympics everyone!