what are the Commonwealth Games for?
Answer, in the latter case anyway: for a handful of possibly drugged-up athletes to post a few more spurious “personal bests” against some mostly lame competition – and for a pile of colonial civil servants and a few heads of state, some decidedly dubious, to fly in from all points to preen and avail themselves of “hospitality” in the VIP boxes. Oh yes, and to allow Manchester the chance to retrieve some self-esteem after being so rudely disabused – along with Birmingham and London – of the very idea that any city in England could stage an Olympic Games or World Cup. So, that off my chest, let’s put out more flags. A summer of flag-waving reaches high noon. Mind you, what I personally revel in at a Commonwealth Games is the myriad of anthems hymned to the winners on the podium. I daresay those for Lundy, the Scillies, or Dogger Bank are unlikely to get an airing, but certainly there will be a lot of Land of our Fathers for the Welsh, Danny Boy for Northern Ireland, Flower of Scotland a
