I noticed this morning that posters advertising a forthcoming Glastonbury Sex Olympics have been erected around town.  It seems they…um…popped up over night.

If this happened in any other town I would not have blinked an eyelid and quite naturally have assumed that this was yet another April Fool’s joke, but in Glastonbury it could quite possibly be true, so in order to keep abreast of the situation I thought I’d write an article and see if anyone can shed any light on the event.

Admittedly, information on the colourful posters is extremely scant; it appears the games are due to commence on the 1st of June, and people are requested to register their interest as judges, participants or spectators by applying to Swami Barmi at PO Box 23, Glastonbury.

Of course naked Olympics are nothing new; in Ancient Greece where the games started, athletes participated in the nude to appreciate the male physique (in those days all athletes were men) and as a tribute to the Gods, while as you may know the word gymnasium is actually derived from the Ancient Greek term gymnós which means naked.

But people are more prudish these days and in the Beach Volleyball tournament this year, women will be permitted to wear shorts and sleeved tops at the games, rather than just the bikinis which have helped to define their sport. To me this relaxation of the rules is not in the spirit of the games and I will be returning my tickets to the event as soon as I can.
Meanwhile, when Tom Daley and scantliy clad fellow members of the Team GB olympic Diving squad released a spoof video of themselves dancing and lipsyncing to L.M.F.A.O’s "Sexy and I know It" video recently they were castigated for their lack of commitment to their training. Personally I thought it was all a bit of harmless fun.

With respect to the Glastonbury Olympic games however, I’m not sure what sort of diving I’d be any good at and if it were not for my gammy leg, arthritic hip and bad back, I’d quite consider participating. Alas I’m not very good at team sports either so a solo activity at the Sex Olympics would probably suit me best (at least that’s what my old pal Tom Stephenson suggested).

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