Your Majesty is Like a Stream of Bat's Piss

The Irish Times has a breaking news RSS feed that, I must confess, is quite annoying; sports results count as breaking news these days. In terms of Irish news it's far from the worst; that accolade belongs to breakingnews.ie and its insistence on including drivel about celebrity diets in its top stories. But the sports thing annoys me, inasmuch as I have practically no interest in sport.

I say 'practically' as I periodically watch Formula 1 Grands Prix. Every once in a while I'll watch the entire season, and possibly keep it up for three years or so. I almost did this year, but as soon as the first race was over the result made it into the headline. The fucking headline. The thing I see which makes me decide whether I'll read the story.



So if I want to watch the race, I have to watch it live. Even if it's in Australia. That or avoid my news reader for most of the day.

So fuck that.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, because it's been festering in the back of my mind for a while. And because I saw this sports headline today. And lo, I did titter.

The headline, reproduced below in all its jpeggy glory for when the page evaporates, gave me pause for thought.

Really? Every sense? There are those out there who are now thinking "wow, he's the executive officer on a starship!".  I know this blog has a great following among the Pythagoreans, for whom Number One is the monad, the creator. Yeah, I know. He thinks he's god; what do you do with fuckers like that? Nail him up, I say.

For most of us, though, having a number one does not mean shagging Commander Riker. No, it... look, do I have to spell it out? You know what number one is. I know what number one is. The guy who wrote the headline knows what number one is.

And the guy who wrote the headline things that this golfer, who is by all accounts quite good (where all accounts for me means one breaking news article), is a puddle of urine.

Damn.

I mean, I don't like golf. I don't actively dislike it; I just don't care. At all. But there's an Irish Times sub-editor out there who must really, really hate it.