Bugle 202 – Sport!

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Bugle.

Yes, it's Bugle 202.

I am Andy's Ultimate, and just 64 years after London last hosted an Olympic Games, it's about to do something that it hasn't done for more than 60 years.

Host an Olympic Games.

Well, not just any Olympics, Buglers.

The London Olympics of the year 1948 plus 64.

1,912.

Oh, no, that's not quite right, is it?

2012, London 2012.

Am I allowed to say that still, Chris?

You're the lawyer on this team, mate.

That is happening.

Right, that's a verifiable historical fact.

It's a verifiable historical fact, yes.

I'm right here reporting exclusively for the bugle from London on what promises to be the biggest event this city has seen since the plague.

And then, then, I guess that was more of a community event.

Everyone got involved, fostered a real public spirit, wasn't taken over by the corporations, and have GlaxoSmithKline peddling their bubonics range of hypoallergenic plague remedies.

Just real people dying real deaths.

And joining me from somewhere else in the world, ah, it's the man who fled this country rather than see his fellow Britons enjoying themselves.

It's John Oliver.

Hello, Andy.

Hello, buglers.

Andy, well, before we get going,

to help promote the current series of my stand-up show, currently airing on Fridays at 11 o'clock on Comedy Central, I joined Twitter last week and never has joining the future felt like such a defeat.

Actually, you know what, it's not even joining the future, is it?

It's merely joining the present.

But I was very wary of the whole sheboggle.

Now, if you wish to follow along with my extremely occasional updates, my address is at IamJohnOliver.

Now, I was trying to work out why I was so hesitant to engage with Twitter Andy and one reason was provided for me almost instantaneously when literally minutes after sending my first tweet I mean literally a handful of minutes I got a message saying you're terrible go eat a bag of dicks

that's democracy John that is democracy you know that that is exactly the warm welcome that I was expecting to be honest it's quite nice to get out of the way so soon I felt baptized in bile but it it was the speed of it that most impressed me.

It was like the person involved had been waiting for six years since Twitter began, sitting up at their keyboard, fighting sleep, thinking he's gonna join Twitter.

I mean, he's just, he's going to.

And when he does, I'll be there.

I'll be there with my bag of dicks comment, swift as the wind.

Why don't you try and get a couple of hours' rest, darling?

I'll watch the computer screen for you.

No, it's too big a risk.

This is personal.

After that, Andy, I am truly sorry that it took me so long to join.

I just feel sorry for the false excitement that individual must have felt a few years ago when they thought I joined, only to realize they just sent a message saying go eat a bag of dicks to Jamie Oliver instead.

Something I'm sure he'd consider if the bag of dicks in question was nutritionally rich and well-seasoned.

So, also a very good way to get right up to the minute death threats as well.

It's nice.

That's nice.

I haven't checked it recently, Andy, but I've got some of those to catch up on.

Just look up the world's leading troubled spots and make a little off-hand joke about them.

And within seconds, people will be telling you that you deserve to die or to crawl buck up your mother's caboodle.

I can't understand why I found it over these years so repellent, Andy.

It's clearly wonderful.

That's why I asked one to me in the

made one little cricket-related quip about Kashmir.

And that

unleashed a small amount of Twitter hell.

Thanks to you two, I get to have to f ⁇ k myself every day on Twitter.

Yeah, exactly.

Welcome to the pain.

I never think through the consequences of that, Chris.

I just think it's funny.

So this is Bugle 202.

And what an unbelievably historic Olympian number that is, 202.

Of course, the number of seconds, 202, taken by Sigismund Freyer and his horsey Ultimus in the team show jumping exactly 100 years ago in 1912.

A performance that secured bronze for Germany.

Now, of course, Germany didn't take missing out on gold and silver too well within two and a bit years.

They've sparked industrialised slaughter across the whole of Europe in the war to end all wars.

If by end you mean put on a back burner for 21 years before thinking, you know what?

I reckon I can top that.

Both Freya and Ultimus tragically dead now, we assume.

2.02, of course, as you don't need me to tell you, the time recorded by New Zealandette Maurice Chamberlain in claiming her unforgettable bronze medal in the women's 800 meters behind Anne Packer in the 1964 games in Tokyo.

202 centimeters, of course, the heights that the Ukrainian Vita Stjopina hauled her patut over in the ladies' high jump in Athens eight years ago to take bronze and spark wild scenes in the streets of her birthplace of Zaporozhia

with people willy-nilly jumping backwards over stuff and falling onto mattresses.

And 202 centimeters, of course, also two-thirds of the distance leapt by legendary Frenchman Emile Torschboff in the 1900s standing long jump event to take a brilliant bronze medal.

His leap of three metres and three sending American Lewis Sheldon scuttling back to the States in floods of tears after missing out on a medal by one centimetre.

Of course, the US did not take this defeat.

Lying down in the standing long jump within 70 years, they jumped 38 million meters and put a man on the moon.

And not just any man, a man dressed as an astronaut.

So, 202, 202 bronzes all the way, which means that this bugle 202 will be probably the third best podcast you'll listen to today.

Top story this week.

Yes.

yes Andy what else the Olympics they're here they're finally here the eyes of the world are upon London Andy if you look up at London's majestic clock Big Ben you can see that its two hands read sport o'clock

bong

cycling bong

wrestling bong

gymnastics bong hockey bong that weird speed walking thing that sometimes happens I can't remember if it's happening this time.

Bong!

The creepy synchronized swimming thing that gives you nightmares.

Bong!

Horse dancing!

Bong!

Sport!

And that is, of course, Andy, one of John Williams' amazing Olympic fanfares, otherwise known as some of the greatest pieces of music ever written.

I really think his fanfares should be available as an alarm clock, Andy, because that is a triumphant way to wake up.

If an Olympic fanfare is playing, you're just instinctively going to leap out of your bed and powerfully march around the room, waving to an imagined crowd of thousands and congratulating yourself on winning the gold medal for not hitting the snooze button while attempting to stifle your morning boner.

I'm telling you, Andy.

I'm telling you, Olympic fanfare clocks are the greatest idea that no one has ever had.

Morning boner, of course, won a bronze medal for Kenya in the 3,000m steeplechase in 1984.

Great runner.

But the point is, here we go, Andy.

As we record, the Olympics opening ceremony has not yet taken place, but I'm sure they're in deep preparation.

Danny Boyle giving an inspirational pep talk to the live sheep who are going to be involved.

Listen, gather out, sheep.

This is a huge day for Britain, and it's a huge day for sheep.

You're in the shop window tonight tonight without having to hang from a meat hook.

I want you to get out there and be the best sheep you can be this evening.

Only two rules.

One, have fun out there, and two, no shitting.

If you can only remember one of those rules, try to remember the second one, okay?

Actually, it looks like Simon here has forgotten it already.

Someone get a shovel.

Okay, team, hooves in.

Baha on three.

One, two, three, baha.

Let's get out there and fing do this.

Disappointed that you managed to do that whilst avoiding the obvious pun a huge day for you.

You.

It's just.

I can instinctively avoid those things, Andy, because I am repelled by them.

Well, this morning, bright dawn across the whole of the world,

a dawn that can be only described as morning on the first day of the Olympics.

And it was greeted with two wonderful events, John.

Firstly, me receiving a new telly.

I reckon those cathode ray jobs have had their day, time will tell, and mass bell ringing around the country to celebrate the start of the Olympics.

And of course, mass bell ringing across Britain is usually a sign either that the Germans have invaded or that there's a really big wedding on.

And in this case, it's both.

As the Deutsche National Athletic und Sporten Gejungengefinkelkartoffelschaft, or Team Germany, prepares to try to haul in more gold than it has for the last 70 years, and hopefully by rather more more morally upright means this time.

But it's also bells to mark.

Terrible what they did, Adelie.

Terrible what they did.

We're moving on.

Terrible.

It's also to mark a wedding.

And this is a wedding of Britain renewing its vows with itself, and more importantly, with sport!

Sports!

Do you, Britain, take sport to be your lawfully wedded sport?

We do.

We definitely do.

There has been an amazing outpouring of civic pride, John, probably the like of which, actually, I'm not sure we've ever seen in

our lifetime.

Not since

probably not since England beat Australia in a one-off test at the Oval in 1993.

But

it's been its massive outpouring of civic pride, and its inevitable handmaiden has been alongside its civic amnesia about all our other social problems.

But Britain has come together to forget its quibbles, its default grumble setting, and indulge in its timeless national hobby of watching people carry a small bit of fire quite slowly.

Now, I went yesterday.

Have you seen the torch relay?

I went in Hackney last Saturday.

Yeah.

It was amazing.

Yeah.

It was a bit short.

Yeah, yeah.

I went to see two people carry this small bit of fire whilst waving at the crowd and it was a very emotional moment for me, John, because

I really love fire because without it, I mean, we'd be...

we'd be nothing as a species and nothing as a planet.

I admit I really welled up.

Without fire,

with no sun, we probably wouldn't be here at all.

And without Far Enough, we'd never have evolved into the people we are today, which means my children would probably still be fish or lizards or something.

So

thank you, Prometheus.

Your sacrifice was very much worthwhile.

And of course, carrying a flame around the country is a British tradition as old as Britain itself, and it has been ever since little Thomas Cramner was voted most flammable archbishop in 1556 at the end of that year's torch reload.

And on that evidence, you can only speculate on the size of the wicker heretic they're going to burn at the opening ceremony tonight.

Well, the opening ceremony itself has had so much speculation around it due to it being shrouded in secrecy.

And one of the stories that's emerged over the last few days is that after concerns about how expensive the tickets for the opening ceremony were, it might not actually be sold out.

There are still tickets on sale for the two top price categories of £1,600 and £2,012.

That is a lot of money, Andy, for an opening ceremony.

For that price, I want to be able to join in the parade if I want to.

And then I want to be able to toast a marshmallow directly on that Olympic flame if I so choose.

However, organizers have promised that there will not be any empty seats.

They said that it's likely that they will be given to troops or children.

Well, I'm glad that that is their worst case scenario, Andy.

Giving tickets to children and troops.

I'm glad that they didn't think that might be a nice idea anyway, even without the threat of empty seats.

Just that it's fractionally better than taking the tickets and setting fire to them you know i don't know why the troops get free tickets they get they get free flights to and from exotic locations around the world all the time well that is technically true i guess andy it's hard to argue with that and yet every bone in my body seems to want me to i'll tell you who should be getting these free tickets john and that is child troops

that's because those are the

they are our future you're gonna have the whole stadium filled with kids from Sierra Leone, Andy.

The main excitement around the opening ceremony is surrounding who is going to light the flame.

There's been a lot of guessing.

Will it be Steve Redgrave?

Will it be Roger Bannister?

Will it be David Beckham?

Will it be the Queen?

Will it be David Beckham dressed as the Queen?

Will it be the Queen dressed as David Beckham?

No one seems to know for sure.

But the pressure is on because you've got to compete with Muhammad Ali lighting the flame in 96, the Barcelona archer firing the flame into a cauldron in 92.

It's an iconic moment.

And I actually have a few suggestions, Andy.

I realise it's late in the day, but I think these might work.

Number one, the queen sets a swan on fire and throws it 50 feet into the cauldron in an intimidatingly unforgettable display of viciousness and strength.

Two, we use the two-pack shakur hologram that took Coachella by storm.

He lights the flame while singing shorty wanna be a thug.

Three, we use the technology from the two-pack hologram, but we use it to to create a Princess Diana hologram.

She magically lights the Olympic flame while also singing Shorty Wanna Be a Thug.

Apparently you can't have the hologram without that song for some reason.

Four, Judy Dench in a specially made safety burn suit sets herself on fire and runs around in a circle on a podium for the duration of the games.

And finally, five, Margaret Thatcher walks slowly but surely up to the Olympic cauldron and then sets it on fire just by looking at it.

I think all of those are pretty powerful suggestions, Andy, and I'd love to see any of them.

Yeah, I mean, there's been a lot of

rumours.

Bookies this morning slash the odds on the flame being lit by the three-man team of Lord Lucan, Glenn Miller, and Elvis.

And I mean, if that does, if they can pull that off, that would be absolutely awesome.

That would be great.

Absolutely sensational.

The other suggestion was that the missing racehorse Shergar is going to fly through the stadium on a jetpack, Los Angeles 84-style, before crashing into the cauldron and being cooked by Raymond Blanc.

Rumours that other parts of the ceremony include the centrepiece will be a ballet reenactment of the final of the 1985 World Snooker Final, in which ballet ace Darcy Bussell will play the part of the climactic blackball, potted by a giant robot, Dennis Taylor.

Also, rumours that we will see the Queen and David Cameron jetpack jousting with the winner getting to run the country.

Also, suggestions that London Mayor Boris Johnson, who has been using this Olympics to showboat like you wouldn't believe, he will be bouncing from boob to boob on a giant inflatable hattie jakes.

And David Beckham is set to take a role in the opening ceremony by firing an arrow at French President Françoise Hollande's face in revenge for the Battle of Hastings in 1066.

So it's going to be awesome, John.

It's going to be absolutely exciting.

Absolutely sensational.

As you said, it might not be sold out.

Four billion people apparently around the world are going to watch it.

But, yeah, I mean, the clue as to why it's not sold out is very much in that price.

And also, in the weird way that they've done tickets.

Now, the cheapest ticket is £20.12.

The most expensive is a hundred times more than that, £2,012.

And

the thing is, you might not know what you're going to get for this.

A lot of the premium tickets have turned out to be actually shit tickets.

And I bought tickets to three sessions of athletics in the evening.

Now, you can get categories double A, A, B, C, and D.

And I got categories D, C, and B for three different sessions, costing £95, £150, and £295.

Now, those seats are all in the same block within two rows of each other and within four seats of each other.

So, what exactly do you get for that higher category?

Well, all John, absolutely call.

So, that explains why they've been so Stalinistically secretive about the way the ticketing has been done.

There has has already been some controversy on the very first day of competition when the North Korean women's football team walked off the field before the game had even begun.

Apparently as North Korean players were being introduced before the match against Colombia, South Korean flags were mistakenly displayed next to their faces in the video package.

Oof, Andy.

That is a country they are still technically at war with.

That is like getting Churchill a swastika-shaped birthday cake.

I mean, he's going to eat it, but he's not going to be happy about it.

The squad walked off and could only be persuaded to return when the teams were announced again with each player's face displayed next to the North Korean flag.

And so kickoff was delayed by about an hour.

And that was day one, Andy.

We f ⁇ ed up on a flag on day one.

And not just any flag.

The flag of the nation probably the least likely to not be bothered by that.

There are now worries over other potential mistakes with flags or national anthems during the games, but you know, hundreds of years ago, it used to be so much easier, Andy.

You would just play the British national anthem and hoist the British flag and presume that you were basically right.

It does remind you, though, this controversy, Andy, of one of the upcoming marquee matchups of the Olympics.

You always like to see rivals playing each other at sport, and there is a huge one to look out for, because on Wednesday, North Korea were drawn against South Korea in the first round of the men's Olympic table tennis.

I mean, what that's going to be incredible.

What they haven't been able to resolve over decades of conflict, Andy, they're going to have to try to resolve with ping-pong paddles, just like North and South Sudan did successfully recently.

If only they'd had that technology in 1950.

It must have been deliberate, though.

I mean, you cannot possibly get a flag right.

It must have been a wind-up.

I mean, aside from just putting up a picture of Dwight Eisenhower's wang to just to remind them of what went on all those years ago.

I mean that was about as insulting as it gets.

There'd been another slight blooper today.

That would be incredible.

If they did just put that picture of a penis up there and they just went, oh well it's a penis.

You know you're in a different cut.

Hold that Dwight Eisenhower's penis.

People turned up to watch archery at Lord's today, only find that it was not open to the public.

What I want to know, John, is why not?

There's some sport going on that they haven't sold tickets for.

You know,

they could have sold it out.

They could have sold it all.

As my schedule,

as my schedule for the next 16 days reveals, British people would buy tickets to watch anything in this Olympics.

We will pay to watch grown men roll around on the floor, growling and trying to give each other wedgies, or as the purists insist on calling it, freestyle wrestling.

We'll pay to watch a load of women in swimsuits give us an object lesson in how not to escape a shark attack while smiling as if they've been kidnapped and are being forced to do do this at gunpoint.

We'll pay to watch men paddling their asses off in canoes, even though they're not actually being chased by a crocodile and there is no danger of them being sucked over a waterfall.

We will pay to see anything, John.

Horses, shitting in buckets, anything.

I'm going to see 29 events.

I've already been to one.

29 more, including 17 sports I've never been to.

I'm going to see the whole.

of the 50km walk, John.

The 50km

waddle.

Three and a half hours mincing up and down the mall.

And I've paid to see that because I want the rest of my life to seem more worthwhile.

I've also paid to see men and women kick each other in the face.

But that's another story.

It was my stagnite.

But I thought I'd treat myself.

I'm also going to see Taekwondo.

I'm going to spend more time queuing than you've spent eating hot dinners, including menu and wine list perusing time.

I don't even care if Team GB's involved or wins or loses.

I'm going to see the f ⁇ ing Dominican Republic play Japan in women's volleyball with my children.

And I'm not doing all this because I want to.

I'm not doing it all because I need to.

And I'm not doing it all because I deserve to, or even because I've been advised by my shrink to to try to kill my debilitating obsession with sport.

But I'm doing it because I want to.

Oh, that was option A, wasn't it?

The point stands.

The point has nailed the dismount and stuck its arse out at the judges.

Super stuffing the point, whatever it was.

Oh, yeah, it was about something about archery.

Oh, there's no such thing as free archery.

We've always paid for archery in this country, as career-ending arrow-in-the-eye injury victim King Harold can testify.

Also in this Olympic week, the first annual results of the government's Measuring National Well-Being Programme, which if you said that in a Teutonic accent, that would sound extremely sinister.

They have,

in this Olympic week of all weeks, the key findings of that report are live on a remote island and don't work.

Well, Britain is an island.

It is politically and economically increasingly remote and it don't work.

We should be the happiest nation on earth John particularly with

this Olympics what I mean what genuinely makes us happy in this country sadly for the government it's not disastrous economic figures and mass unemployment but it is Olympic fever John as we said it is making Britain a happier nation for at least two and a half weeks than it generally is but there is still a significant part of this population that tragically does not like sports and you would have thought there must be a vaccine available for that in the 21st century.

If they can cure lactose intolerance and typhoid, they should be able to cure an antipathy to sports.

People need sports, John, otherwise they start noticing reality.

In fact, it would make government's lives so much easier and it would make everyone happier if they just started pumping a misosportosis antidote into the water system like they do with fluoride for people's teeth.

Now clearly this is bullshit.

What makes us happy is the Olympics.

The report also showed that people who are married have jobs and own their own homes are most likely to be satisfied with their lives.

Now this is a crucial breakthrough, John, for the the scientific community.

Love and financial security turns out are more fun than crushing loneliness and grinding poverty.

As discoveries go, this is up there with Nike's research project that concluded that eels are not an important target demographic in the high-end trainers' market, or Alexander Fleming's follow-up to his penicillin discovery, in which, after prolonged hours in the lab, he proved that even if you bark really loudly into a test tube, you cannot make it make a test tube puppy.

But happily, what also makes Britain happy is American politicians coming over here and putting their f ⁇ ing foot in it.

That has put a smile on Britain's face this week, John, as your potential future president, Mitt Romney, has really done...

He has stepped up to that plate, John.

He has stepped up to that plate, covered it in custard and smacked it into his own face.

That's right.

One of the current guests in London is Willard Mitt Romney.

He's currently on a week-long foreign tour visiting the UK, Israel and Poland.

The classic trifecta, Andy, your classic three-stop vacation right there.

Start in England, end in beautiful downtown Warsaw and swing by the Wailing Wall on the way.

Romney's in the UK.

Hang on, was that not the exact itinerary that Hitler had planned out in 1940?

I think it basically was.

Romney is in the UK to attend the Olympics opening ceremony and meet various political leaders over the next few days and as you say he managed to put his foot firmly in his own face almost straight away saying that there had been disconcerting signs ahead of the start of the games and questioned whether Britons would truly celebrate the Olympics to which there was an almost instantaneous response from Britain of f you

shut the f up you f ⁇ ing f

go eat a bag of dicks and this this is his first major trip abroad Romney as the preemptive Republican nominee, and it went badly straight away.

England seemed to take an immediate dislike to him.

It was supposed to be a strong trip for Romney.

He was chief executive of the Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City in Utah in 2002, but it really does not seem to be working out well.

Romney said, it's hard to know just how well it will turn out, this Olympics.

Do the British come together and celebrate the Olympic moment?

That's something which we only find out once the Games actually begin.

So he believes that we may not be up to this, Andy.

Of course, it's worth noting that he also believes, as a Mormon, that at one point Jesus lived in America.

So

he's a man of strong beliefs, though those beliefs may be misplaced.

How the fk did he get there?

I guess it was magic.

He probably just flew on a donkey or something, did he?

Yeah, or like I think his feet turned into jet skis.

To be honest, I haven't read the full beliefs of the Mormon system.

I think it is the Feet Jetskis, though.

But don't read them, John, because they are pretty persuasive.

As me and my many wives will tell you.

Romney also referred to the leader of the opposition in England and leader of the Labour Party, Ed Miliband, as Mr.

Leader in a press conference, which is a little bit weird.

He either seems to think that Ed Miliband is a North Korean-like dictatorial figure, or

he's accidentally revealed that he has sadomasochistic feelings concerning Edmeter Band and sees him as his sexual dominatrix.

Oh Mr.

Leader, thank you for having me in your country.

I'm so sorry I insulted your Olympics preparation, Mr.

Leader.

I've been so bad.

I need to be punished.

Please can you drip hot candle wax on my balls, Mr.

Leader?

Please, please, I've been such a naughty man.

Amongst the other things Romney said, he predicted that the games would be shit, a big pile of shit, that the opening ceremony would be, quotes, like a 10-day-old souffle in a nursing home, and that star British swimmer Rebecca Adlington would either dissolve or be eaten by a walrus.

He also claimed that the last decent thing London organised was chopping Charles I's fing head off in 1649 and went on to claim that he'd rather examine the last known stools of roadkill badgers than attend the 100m final.

How can you say that?

How can you say that, Andy?

He said that he wouldn't do the Queen even if she went down on her royal knees and begged me.

And that it wouldn't surprise me if Tom Daly, the the diving star, was fatally injured in the 10-metre diving because someone had taken the plug out of the diving pool and there was no water in it.

Romney then scratched his scrotum and said, There, I've just done the most productive thing to happen in Britain since the Blitz.

After which he claimed the Stratford area looked a f of a lot better off the Luftwaffe had given it the once-over than it does now.

Before suggesting that the whole of Team GB probably suffers from either herpes or Giardia, and that the Olympic stadium would fall down if anyone farts in it.

And even that.

Nobody's running his campaign, Andy.

This is the worst things he could say.

A much lauded Velodrome is a kind of donkey shit wooden shed an American could put up in an afternoon, but wouldn't bother because it's shit.

Romney, who did not actually say any of these things, but by the look on his face, probably wished he had later backtracked and predicted that London would hold a quote very successful games before sniggering to himself, coughing, bullshit, and predicting that the basketball arena would blow away if the wind never got above 10 miles an hour.

There have been a number of angry retorts against Mitt Romney, including even from David Cameron, who pointed out that the 2012 Olympics were taking place in a busy city rather than, I quote, the middle of nowhere, seemingly taking a shot at Romney's Salt Lake City Games in Utah, which is the dictionary definition of the middle of nowhere.

So, wow, Andy, when even David Cameron is calling you an asshole, you are a huge asshole.

And just as Romney was trying to put this diplomatic fire out, a passage from his 2011 book started getting passed around the internet yesterday.

His book was called No Apologies, and one part of this reads, and again, I quote, England is just a small island.

Its roads and houses are small.

With few exceptions, it doesn't make things that people in the rest of the world want to buy.

And if it hadn't been separated from the continent by water, it almost certainly would have been lost to Hitler's ambitions.

Well,

Mr.

Romney,

I guess, to be fair, we needed the assistance of water to defend ourselves because America certainly wasn't helping for a while in that war.

Water, to its credit, was involved right from the starting pistol.

But you know,

also, Romney, you are fing welcome for us helping to create your country.

You're welcome.

You're welcome.

Yeah, if you don't, if you don't think much of Britain, then you start speaking Iraqi or whatever else you'd be speaking if it wasn't for us.

If we hadn't annihilated the Native American population and tried to subjugate the people who were there and eventually you'd be speaking French or Spanish or possibly something the point is, you're welcome.

You're welcome.

Not Iraqi.

This is Iroquois.

This was supposed to be a goodwill visit for Romney, but maybe

but maybe.

Maybe this is just part of Romney's seduction style, Andy.

Maybe he seduces people by insulting them.

maybe this is how he got his wife.

He just walked up to her and said, Hey, Anne, you

bitch, let's go out for dinner sometime.

Don't eat too much, though, you're looking puffy.

That's basically what he's done with the American public, isn't it?

I don't pay tax.

Suck my nuts, suck my nuts, and vote for me.

You two are being both very swear and very nationalistic today.

Oh, yeah, it's all those flags.

It's the Olympics, it's the Olympics.

North Korean wedding news now.

And well, Andy, a couple of weeks ago, we speculated about the mystery lady seen on the pudgy arm of Kim Jong-un, the North Korean leader and hereditary crazy gene recipient.

She was rumored to be the singer of magnificent songs such as Excellent Horse Like Lady, a song title that amazingly is not a joke.

Well, good news and bad news regarding that.

Bad news, sadly, it was not her.

Good news, it was someone else and he married her.

So after

mounting speculation of whether the woman was his wife, lover or sister, which is some pretty sexy speculation, Andy, apart from that third option, because if there's a grey area there, you have yourself a problem.

The name of the woman was announced on North Korean state television on Wednesday.

She was revealed to be 23-year-old Ree Seoul-ju.

They're definitely married, but the wedding may have been as long ago as 2009.

I feel so terrible to be so late on this, Andy, but let me just take this opportunity now to say, congratulations, Reeseu, on the happiest day in your miserable life.

There you go.

It turns out that she, too, may have been a singer, Andy, just like the previous girlfriend that he was rumored to have been with, Kim Jong-un.

So he's clearly got a type, Andy, and that type is women who are terrified of him and and who can also sing but most importantly the cowering part

They were photographed visiting a brand new amusement park although it's not clear precisely what constitutes amusement in North Korea.

Maybe it's just looking at a pizza through a pane of glass.

We don't know.

The details are so secret as you can imagine with North Korea, but there have been some leaks of his wedding vows.

I can read them out here.

This was one.

Do you, Kim Jong-un, take this lady to have and to terrify from this day forth?

Do you promise to use her as a photographic prop and to parade her around like a nuclear warhead as long as you both shall live?

I do, he was supposed to say.

And then the response of Vow said, do you, Re Soulju, take this man to have and to not answer back to on threat of execution in fatness and in wealth?

Do you promise not to criticize him when he wants wants another 60-foot-high portrait of himself somewhere?

And will you live a decadent life, forsaking all others around you in the country who are dying of starvation?

And do you promise not to look at a new statue of him and say, I think it needs a bit more bronze around the jowls, darling?

And if you do, do you promise not to complain when you are executed?

And do you promise at no point to suddenly wake up in the middle of the night screaming, holy shit, what are we doing?

This country's a huge mess.

And if you do, you understand that whole execution thing.

Skip to the end.

You do.

You do.

your emails now and this one comes in from Katie on the subject the bugle is my co-pilot dear Andy John and Chris I recently moved from Boston to San Antonio for work reasons a likely story it's been rather a big change in climate both barometrically and politically for instance that that is true katie's absolutely right about that for instance saying it's 103 degrees degrees in Boston will be a topic of great interest, while in San Antonio it's fairly commonplace.

On the other hand, saying wasn't the Supreme Court's ruling on Obamacare great in Boston would be fairly commonplace.

While in Texas, it causes an ever-so-slightly different reaction.

In order to get here, I had to drive about 2,000 miles.

It took five days to do so.

Before making this trek, I downloaded as many bugle podcasts as I could find and listened to them on the way.

I listened to the bugle in 11 different states,

and I just wanted to say thank you.

on this journey to places unknown i found the bugle to be my constant my north star if you will

you need to buy yourself a real fing map katie if yeah if you use the bugle as your north star you're going to end up driving into a lake that's right and you deserve to end up in san antonio

Oh dear.

And she goes on to say, the places may change, the bullshit remains the same.

It's quite profound, that, isn't it?

It's quite a profound thought from Katie.

That's been true.

The Grace is my change.

The bullshit stays the same.

It's been true ever since people started jotting down

things on bits of stone and claiming God said them.

What's the name of that town we were going to invade?

Oh, that was

Paris.

God, you sound like Caesar there, Chris.

So glib.

What was it?

I can't.

Next one.

Yeah.

We'll get to it.

We'll get to it.

Bring me my horse.

We have another email here from Ian Kerridge who says, Andy John and that really nice Chris, I need help.

He says, I really need you to pass on a message to another bugler for me, please.

Could you please tell Liz that Ian is sorry?

He's not entirely sure what he's done wrong, but whatever it is, he's sorry.

Liz, Ian apologises.

He's sorry.

I'd be ever so grateful if you could do this for me.

Looking forward to buying some bugle merchandise.

I trust there'll be t-shirts and a special bugle monogram t-shirt cannon.

Ian.

Well, I mean, we've done it, Ian.

That raises more questions than it answers, doesn't it?

It kind of does.

And we've apologized for you.

I mean, is Ian a war criminal and is Liz a judge in the Hague?

And is that going to be enough?

Or is Ian a regular person and is Liz six feet underground?

Can't you hear that apology?

I don't know if I want to get involved in this, Ian.

Or is Liz a fruit?

Yeah, if you can hear us, Liz,

Ian is sorry, but you know,

I don't know how I feel about that apology.

Well, Lys also, John, is a village in Hampshire, in southern England.

What have you done, Ian?

I mean, what have you done to that village?

Is there anyone...

If anyone is still alive in Lys, please contact the authorities as a matter of considerable urgency.

Buglers are advised not to approach Ian.

He is clearly an extremely dangerous man.

Maybe there's a knob on the school roof.

Oh, how good would that be?

Olympic opening ceremony.

They pan back at the end and there's a flaming penis on the roof.

That would be sensational.

A 60-foot flaming penis visible from space.

That would be the most British possible thing.

That would be as British as...

Firing baseballs off an airship into

flotilla of jet skis is American.

That would be great.

Let's have it, Danny Boyle.

Let's have the penis on the roof.

Well, that is it for Bugle 2002, the final bugle recorded before the official beginning of the Olympics.

You can feel the history in the air.

Now, from

tomorrow morning, you'll be able to get daily Londinium 5772 Nemean Games micro bugles.

Now, I think legally I've covered my back.

I'm using the Hebrew year, so I'm using both my Jewish heritage and my classical education.

Covered, covered.

The Londinium 5772 Nemean games, which we're all very excited about.

I'll be doing daily micro bugles, which Chris is going to put up early in the morning, or basically overnight.

each night

to the micro bugle breakfast.

How about that?

This is an exciting new dawn

in the history of broadcasting.

I'll be able to get them on the normal iTunes and SoundCloud feeds and the website

at thebuglepodcast.com and our SoundCloud page, soundcloud.com/slash the hyphen bugle.

It's no fun when you get it right.

And don't forget, you can follow John Oliver on at IamJohnOliver.

Yeah, you can.

Wow.

Well, mate,

this is a very exciting.

In fact, we had a couple of emails in asking whether we don't know how ready was genuine.

It is me.

It is me.

I don't know how long I feel or how long I'll be around for.

But the point is, Andy, it just doesn't matter because the Olympics are here.

That's right.

And I'll be doing

also sporadic Olympic updates and lies on the at Hello Buglers Twitter feed as well, including...

When are you going to do them, Andy?

I'm going to do them from my heart all the time zone.

That's right.

that's right.

The Olympics are not just for a few weeks, they're forever.

Enjoy the Olympics, buglers.

Please let there be a jet pack.

That's all a jet pack and a penis on the roof.

That's all we ask.

One massive jet pack and an even bigger penis.

And the live sheep, you promised those.

I do expect those delivered.

Sport, Andy!

Sport!

May the sport be with you, buglers,

and also

with you.

Long live sport in Nominee Sportis.

Amen.

Come on, sport.

Come on, sport.

Eat Big Macs and drink Coca-Cola.

Hi, Buglers.

It's producer Chris here.

I just wanted to very quickly tell you about my new podcast, Mildly Informed, which is in podcast feeds and YouTube right now.

Quite simply, it's a show where me and my friend Richie review literally anything.

So please come join us wherever you get your podcasts right now.