If schadenfreude was an Olympic sport, I am pretty sure I’d be on the podium.
Don’t get me wrong, it is great seeing what humans can do.
If they want to.
Personally I don’t think I can name an event in the Winter Olympics which tempts me – never mind if I could actually do it.
Hurtling down mountains on a pair of sticks? Wearing sequins while spinning around on blades? No thanks.
Sweeping? Well, maybe, curling does look like it could be fun. It’s extreme bowls and out of the other sports, chances of survival have to be higher.
But, when it comes to going down an ice tunnel, head first, on a tea tray – it is definitely a case of ‘rather you than me’.
I can’t help but think the skeleton was named by someone with a very bad sense of humour.
Which says a lot when I spent an entire car journey at the weekend coming up with cheese-themed jokes.
What’s the worst compliment you can give cheddar? You’re grate!
So, yes, I’d consider myself an expert on the not-funny.
Speaking of which, I suppose I shouldn’t laugh when someone’s lifelong dreams disappear in a cloud of ice.
But I would be lying if I said I didn’t.
I could blame the fact I don’t understand any of the commentary.
It is all about switches and pretzels and numbers – out of which I only like one, and I mean the baked salty treat version... which I have a feeling isn’t what they mean.
This all leaves me to judge success, and failure, by how much time the competitors spend on their backsides.
To the point, when it came to watching Jenny Jones on the slopestyle, it was hard not to wish mean things on her rivals.
In the name of patriotism, of course.