Who should take a lap of honour?

In the first of what may (or may not) be a couple of posts about the Commonwealth Games in Glasgow, I feel compelled to comment on what, to me at least, appears to be a very annoying development in the sport of athletics - the lap of honour.
The Macmillan Dictionary defines a lap of honour as:
a slow run or drive around a sports field or racetrack that the winner makes after arace or game. The American word is victory lap.
The operative word here, I think, is winner.  A lap of honour was, as far as I have always been concerned, an opportunity for the victor to soak up the appreciative plaudits of the spectating public.
But recently, things seem to have changed.

Take Jodie and Bianca Williams (pictured above). They finished second and third in the 200 metres at the Commonwealth Games, quite a long way (it has to be said) behind gold medallist Blessing Okagbare, and yet no sooner had they crossed the line than they were over to the stands to grab a flag and start their 'lap of honour'. And it wasn't just these athletes! Every athlete who finished in the first three could be seen jogging around the track with a flag on their back, signing autographs and posing for selfies.
Is this right?
When did the criteria for being deserving of a lap of honour change from winning the race to winning a medal? I'm pretty sure it's a recent phenomenon.

But then it gets worse!!
Take this picture - on the right is Caleb Mwangangi Ndiku, the gold medalist in the 5000 metres; in the middle is Isiah Kiplangat Koech, the silver medallist. But the guy on the left, Joseph Kiplomo Kitur, well, he finished fourth (missing out on the bronze medal which went to Zane Robertson of New Zealand) and yet here he is, draped in the Kenyan flag, posing for photos as he ambles around the track with his chums on a lap of honour.
So does this mean that an athlete who finishes outside the first three has still 'earned' a lap of honour if the race is won by a compatriot?

I think we need to get some semblance of sense back into all this.
The lap of honour should be for the victor and the victor alone. They've won, they've overcome all their opponents and so they've earned that moment and they should be able to savour the adulation of the crowd without having to share it with others.
Those who finish second and third, they get their moment in the sun at the medal ceremony when they hear their names being announced and they have a medal hung around their necks - but rightly, the spotlight remains on the victor and it is their national anthem that is played (the subject of a future blog).
As for everyone else - well, they didn't win, did they? And they didn't finish in a medal position, did they? So that means, I'm sorry to say, that they just weren't good enough and have not earned the right to soak up the applause that those who were better than them will receive on the lap of honour or at the medal ceremony - and they need to accept that fact because, if athletes who finish fourth decide they should are entitled to a lap of honour, then what's to stop the one who finished sixth, or ninth, or didn't even make the final!?!
In fact, why not hang it all and do what the decathletes do after they've finished their final event and have everyone who competed jogging around the track!

The right to die - is it right?

I know - it's a strange image to start a post with, isn't it. Normally, I don't really have much of a problem choosing the image to accompany a post on this 'ere blog. Today, though, was different.
Why?
Well, today I want to touch on the sensitive and difficult subject of 'the right to die' or to give it another name, 'assisted dying'.
I decided to do a post about this because I read the other day an excellent post on one of the blogs I follow (well worth taking three or four minutes out of your day to read through it):
whothehelldoeshethinkheis - assisted-dying
It's a thoughtful and well-written argument by Dr Ros Taylor.

But let me give you my take on the issue.
On the face of it, this looks like a simple argument between two diametrically opposed groups:
Group 1 - those with severe disabilities or terminal illnesses who have made it abundantly clear that they do not want to die and want to do whatever is necessary to stay alive, irrespective of how much pain they may be enduring (e.g. Baroness Campbell).
Group 2 - those with severe disabilities or a terminal illness who have made it abundantly clear that they've had enough of the pain and suffering they're having to endure every day and will do so for the rest of their lives (e.g. Tony Nicklinson RIP) and because of that, wish to be allowed to end that suffering.

For those in Group 1, the answer to the issue is easy - we must do whatever we can to support them for as long as we can.
For those in Group 2, the answer (in my humble opinion) should also be easy - these people have made a conscious choice, their conscious choice, and we should respect that choice and, if necessary assist them in whatever way possible to exercise that choice. It is for these people (and the people who help them to end their life) that the assisted dying bill is really intended, to ensure that those who assist an individual in taking their own life are not subsequently prosecuted for murder…isn't it?
And if that was all we had to worry about, then we wouldn't really be having this debate because most rational people would, I suggest, accept that a person has a right to make a choice and that it's wrong for someone who helps that person exercise that choice to face the risk of prosecution.

But, alas, that isn't all we have to worry about. Unfortunately, there's something else, and it is that something else which really sits at the heart of the debate.
That something else is a fear, a very specific fear, based (sadly) on a clear though somewhat cynical understanding of the true nature of too many people in this modern, uncaringly materialistic world of ours.
That fear (and in my opinion it is a very valid one) is that if assisted dying was made legal, some people (possibly a lot of people) who are currently in Group 1 would, either by their partners or their children, or more worryingly perhaps, by the state itself through its medical practitioners, be slowly and insidiously coerced from Group 1 into Group 2.
I can just imagine it, and I'm sure you can too. An elderly relative, possibly bed-ridden, being told day after day by their relatives or their carers how much of a burden they are, how better it would be for everyone if they just 'gave up'. How long would it take for even the most positive of people to begin to believe what they were being told, that their own lives were pointless, that all they had left to look forward to was more pain and misery and suffering?
Such coercion (and we would be monumentally naive to believe it wouldn't happen) could be driven by  many things, but mostly, I suspect, by greed. After all, how many look at their elderly relatives and see not the person but the inheritance?
It could also be driven by frustration at being obligated to care. It could even be driven by the state wishing to reduce the burden of the sick and elderly on its own finances and resources.

Whatever the motivation for coercion, it is the very real fear that this would take place that is, I suspect, behind most of opposition to the assisted dying bill.
So could we guard against it? If so, how?
How can we satisfy the legitimate rights of those in Group 2, yet still protect those in Group 1 from the nefarious forces of our world?
I'm afraid I simply don't know the answer to that, and I suspect that the millions and millions of us who have never either suffered as these individuals have suffered or witnessed the interminable suffering of a loved one, don't know the answer either.

Does Midsomer have a serial killer?

For those who have never seen Midsomer Murders, then this blog is really going to mean very little - as such, can I suggest you have a read of this one:
Bring Back The Stocks - it may be you missed this earlier rant!
For those who are acquainted with the gruesome goings on in Midsomer, then read on, dear friends, read on...

There have been a number of people who have identified the disturbing link between the decision by Joyce Barnaby (wife of DCI Barnaby) to join a new club, group or similar gathering of souls in one of the countless 'sleepy villages' that seem to be the only type of conurbation in Midsomer (there's never a Tesco, is there…) and a sudden and bewildering spate of deaths that subsequently ensues.
Pause Live Action for example, commented on this back in 2010.

However, whilst the presence of Joyce is depicted as nothing more than a simple coincidence, I'd like to offer a dark and chilling alternative.
Joyce Barnaby is a serial killer!
Like some ancient Valkyrie she scans the wide expanse of Midsomer, deciding who must die and who will live...
And as for DCI Barnaby, whilst appearing diligent and honest as he investigates the ever growing pile of brutally and imaginatively murdered victims, well he's actually so besotted with the love of his life that he is, in fact, cynically manipulating countless witnesses (off camera of course) and carefully tampering with evidence in order to ensure that Joyce is rarely, if ever, even a suspect, let alone implicated in one of her many crimes.
'But the killers always confess!' I hear the shocked and horrified Midsomer Murder devotees screaming into their Horlicks.
Of course they do, I reply, because DCI Barnaby is so awesomely and fantastically good at what he does that the 'killers' actually end up believing themselves that they committed the crime! There's always, after all, means, motive and opportunity!!

But what about all those instances (and there are quite a few, admittedly) where Joyce Barnaby isn't actually part of the Midsomer Crumbly Reading Club where the victim is found impaled on a copy of Canterbury Tales, or the Midsomer Boner Women's MahJong Fellowship where the victim was found crushed flat under two tonnes of MahJong tiles?
Well, can I just suggest that you listen out for DCI Barnaby saying:
'Hello, Cully, what are you doing here?'

Like mother, like daughter…?