I, like the rest of the world, have been glued to the TV this past week.

Yes, I am speaking about the Olympics – again – but it only comes round once every four years, so make hay while the sun shines.

Anyways, I have been paying attention to sports that I would not usually pay attention to – and I have found the results hi-larious.

First of all, I would like to put forward that judo is not a sport. It’s just a grown-up version of a cat fight.

Watching judo takes me back to my teenage years walking through Cavill Mall in Surfers.

Or fighting with my sister.

Seriously – it is exactly how we would do it.

We were both too unco to actually cause harm to each other, so we would end up gripping each other on our shoulders and attempt to kick at each other's legs in the vain hope you’d be able to flip her over.

Take out the occasional hair-pulling that Lissy and I used to indulge in (I’m pretty sure that would be an illegal manoeuvre in judo) and you have the exact scene that would play out in our shared bedroom 15 years ago.

Walking is another sport which has brought me endless hours of amusement.

Seriously – it’s just slow running. I am convinced that no one actually chooses to become a walker.

They are just not overly fast at running and so instead set out to be the fastest walker they can be.

Because really – that gait is not natural.

It doesn’t look like it would be fun and let’s face it, people laugh at you.

It’s a very fine line between running and walking and I’m still not quite sure why some people get pulled up and others don’t.

To all the walkers out there I apologise if I have offended you, but really, walking is going for a stroll down to the beach.

What they are doing at the Olympics is just putting themselves through some very unnecessary pain for the sake of being the best slow runner in the world.

And then there is ping pong, which can only be referred to as table tennis at the Olympics. Or so Alex tells me, because he is completely converted.

It is the sport the Chinese president said he wished he could have competed in at his Games, but really if he is that desperate for a whack at a little plastic ball, I’m sure someone has an old table in their garage they could lend him.

I appreciate the speed and the accuracy of it all and the pressure which must come at competing at that level, but seriously – all I can think of is Sundays at my grandma’s house where we Remeikis children would challenge anyone who moved to a game (that is before one of us, who shall remain nameless, threw our paddle down in a fit of temper and broke a window) and it never ended well.

Mainly because it never ended. I keep expecting the losing team to jump up and yell ‘best of 35’ each time they drop a set.

I’m not sure the Greeks would have been that into handball, synchronised swimming or rhythmic gymnastics either.

Speaking of gymnastics, the lines of tricks and leaps they perform are pretty amazing, but I am not over convinced about the ‘artistry’ score.

Waving your arms in the air in some vague attempt to pay attention to the music is not artistry because if it is, then what I’ve been doing in my living room to Madonna classics must rate pretty highly.

Anyways, now I have to get back to watching.

Otherwise, what am I going to fill this space with next week?