Crimson-faced and puffed with effort...
The act of surfing, even at its most glorious, can still be an awkward dance. Arms flailing wildly, torso bent wrong, legs so spindly poking out of trunks or swathed in black neoprene. When lesser mortals partake it can look downright ludicrous but we love it and thus spare scientific description. No need to use the correct verbs. Better to simply emote and pretend we all look like swans.
But the British, dour and honest, see no need for restraint. Famed tabloid, The Daily Mirror, described Prime Minister David Cameron’s recent session in a way so painful that it is art. I reprint, in full, here. He was on a bodyboard, fyi, which makes it even more amazing. It also makes me very happy I am not British. My sensitive heart could, literally, not stand being talked about like this. So without further ado, I give you the best/worst thing ever written about surfing.
The portly Prime Minister donned a figure-hugging wetsuit on Polzeath beach in Cornwall while bemused security guards stood around…
Crimson-faced and puffed with effort, the portly Prime Minister finds the Cornish surf all a bit much. David Cameron donned a figure-hugging wetsuit and braved the grim August weather today as he surfed at Polzeath beach in Cornwall. But the driving rain and rolling waves soon had the Tory PM scampering back to shore for a cup of tea.
“He went running into the water like a 10-year-old kid,” an onlooker said. “It was like watching the opening scene of Baywatch!”
“He tried to surf but the waves were proper fierce. He soon came running out again – I think he got water in his ear.”
“They gave him some earplugs.”
Mr Cameron caught an ear infection on his first summer holiday in the Algarve earlier this month. He is spending this week in Cornwall and also plans to squeeze in a trip to Scotland before Parliament returns next month.
Mebbe, but when I see talented writers like you and Rory nickel and diming to fill a gaping daily internet hole I feel like Bukowski’s beer drunk soul: sadder than all the dead christmas trees of the world.
Couldn’t you do a Dickens and give us a daily excerpt from a novel or something?
You want the Great Unfinished Surf Novel? But three versions? A serial? Mine starts tonight. Chas? Rory? Y’wanna dance?
Sure, sounds intriguing but is it just me or does surfing non-fiction always comes across so much better than fiction?
I mean compare Welcome to Paradise now go to Hell with the Road to Ghost Cabins.
Truth trumped fiction there without even raising a sweat.
I’m in! Mine tomorrow!
you guys are really scraping the bottom of the barrel for content. Maybe less quantity, more quality?
But seriously…have you ever read such a dreadful description of someone surfing? It is art!
Go check out stabmag.com there is a wonderful profile piece on what type of socks Mr. Creed Mctaggart likes to wear.