Shropshire Star

Pete Cashmore: An Olympic proposal

Like everyone else in the world, I've spent the last two weeks glued to the Olympic Games, to the point that my colleagues have repeatedly asked me if I wouldn't mind coming away from the office television and doing some work.

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I've found the endless procession of medals a joy to watch – I don't remember being this excited by, for example, the Atlanta games in 1996, when Great Britain won one gold medal, proving that I really do only sing when we're winning.

One thing that has bothered me, at the risk of sounding unromantic, has been the small, undignified cabal of gentlemen stealing the thunder of their special lady friends by proposing to them at their moment of Olympic glory. The boyfriend of Chinese diver He Ki did it on live TV as soon as she stepped off the podium after receiving her silver medal, thus wrestling the limelight away from not just his now-fiancée for what was probably the greatest moment of her life, but also the winner of the actual gold medal, who I'd imagine felt a tad upstaged.

Then there was Charlotte Dujardin's gold medal in the dressage (which, incidentally, is clearly not a real sport and you'll never persuade me otherwise, it's basically the horse equivalent of Crufts).

Charlotte saw her boyfriend appear on screen with a sign saying, "Can we get married now?" despite the fact that they have already been engaged for years, it's just that she had been busy, you know, being the top dressage rider in the world and that.

One news source described this as 'adorable' – personally, I think they're both contemptible cads, elbowing their way into their partner's glory and turning it into a 'moment' with themselves at the centre. Here's an idea, chaps: let them have their own moment, and then pop the question over dinner like a normal person.

I have much more respect for English Olympian Martyn Rooney, a 400m runner who did rather less well than Charlotte and Ki in his chosen discipline.

His attempt to get into the semi-finals failed when he trailed home in fifth place in his heat, a miscalculation he explained in his post-race interview with the BBC thusly: "I ran like a d***." Wonderfully, in this age of instant social media complaint, I'm happy to say that Martyn hasn't been hauled over the coals of outrage for this – after all, he was understandably upset and it was 1.30 in the morning when he said it.

His passion and candour, if not his actual running, should be applauded, and at no point did he use the moment for an ill-advised marriage proposal, although to be fair, the rude word probably would have killed the romantic mood.

Next time, Martyn, just say 'berk', which coincidentally is the word I'd use to describe anyone who proposes live during a major sporting event.

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