First posted 26 May 2011

Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last! Of course it is at best discourteous and at worst offensive to use the exceptional words of Dr Martin Luther King to describe my delight at the news that Vuvuzelas may soon be banned. According to the London School of Hygiene & Tropical Medicine, the Vuvuzela, that plastic contraption used relentlessly throughout the recent Soccer World Cup in South Africa to the vexation of anyone hoping to catch a scrape of anything a commentator was saying, is bad news.

It seems they are actually potentially dangerous to anyone close to their monotonous roar. Hitherto it was only the performer who was in danger due to the calculable risk of his instrument being snatched from his grasp and inserted into him with extreme prejudice. The problem, we are advised, is that the plastic horn apparently expels, into the air, large quantities of liquid droplets that can carry numerous nasty infections and which can, if one is standing nearby, be breathed into the lungs. Pardon me while I puke at the thought!

If there was only one Vuvuzela the problem would merely be irritating. Like the lone trumpeter on the hill during the cricket one accepts that after a few beers his output will be reduced to little more than squawk. Vuvuzelas on the other hand apparently require audience participation. Going to the soccer, boys? Don’t forget your Vuvuzelas.

I hate audience participation. It is a branch of entertainment I have had an aversion to ever since I was a small boy and made to sing Kumbaya with a small group of equally unqualified kids at a National Fitness Camp. Not surprisingly I learned to lip sync while I was there.

But sporting events have become audience participation opportunities whether we want to take part or not. It all started with the Mexican Wave. Have you ever tried to stop one of those? The wave originated in Mexico (Really?) as a means of whiling away the minutes during the half time period of soccer games and to my knowledge the ratbag who came up with the idea has never been prosecuted even though by rights he should be spending every day for the next 100 years locked away somewhere in regretful contemplation. The Mexican Wave has developed into a loathsome aberration of forced participation.

Don’t agree? OK, at the next sporting event when a wave is making the rounds, don’t participate. A word of caution however, you should wear some protective head gear. Apart from howls of derision, there are also likely to be a variety of objects directed at you. It’s safer to get up and wave.

It’s especially annoying at the rugby when you’re struggling with a soft plastic container of beer, an hermetically sealed meat pie and a cardboard bowl of hot chips with sauce. Get ready, here comes the wave, place your beer on the ground, stand up, place your pie on the seat and, on cue, wave your hands in the air taking care to throw most of your chips over your left shoulder. Sit down and pick up your beer. Stand up again and retrieve whatever is left of your pie stuck to your bum.

Then there’s that large ball that bounces around the crowd. How did they get that through the turnstile? It’s a metre in diameter. Didn’t anyone think to question the owner about his intentions? The fun bit is when it lands on someone’s unsuspecting head. The less than fun bit is when it lands on your unsuspecting head particularly when you’re halfway through a gulp of beer.

Anyway, it seems the Vuvuzela may now be banned and like Jimmie’s cracked corn, I couldn’t care less. To me it’s a win for common sense and grouchiness and I have PHDs in both.