It's three minutes after ten.

Far be it from me to criticise anybody possessed of sporting prowess.

But it's not surreal to win a gold medal at the...

If I want a gold medal at the Olympics, that would be surreal.

I'm referring back to the news bulletin in case you missed it.

A magnificent Tabby Stoker who picked up a mixed team skeleton

describing her experience as surreal.

You've been training most of your adult her experience as surreal. You've been training

most of your adult life for this moment. You've entered the Olympics, not by accident. You've

turned up, you've had an absolute, a bit of a nightmare in the individuals, but you've played an

absolute blinder in the mixed, and you've won a gold medal. That's almost the opposite of

surreal. That's completely real. I mean,

it would be surreal if you turned up on the medal podium and instead of giving you a gold medal,

they gave you a dairy milk or a banana. That would be surreal. It's not surreal to turn up to work,

to have a good day at work and to get rewarded for it. Surreal would be me turning up

unexpectedly at the beginning of the skeleton, which I mean, that's the one where all you have to do

is lie flat and still, right? Is that the one? Is that, is that? Anyway, it's like the mothership

of all the sports I know I would be spectacularly bad at the Winter Olympics.

Every single thing.

Some of the sports looked like they were dreamt up

or two o'clock in the morning by undergraduates

who'd been at the wacky-backy all that one.

...