'Owzzat?

Aunt Ooo-So-Young is sulking.

Naturally – imagine being told by the littlest of family juniors that you’re a bit too long in the tooth to be even a “pretend” cheer-leader.

Talk about the trickle-down effect of humungous decisions.

"I'm still not convinced that you need the cheer-leaders to get the stadium atmosphere at home!"

The Game moved to another continent – fine.

But the Atmosphere?

All attempts to re-create it at home have proved only mildly successful.

Banging plastic water bottles together in medium-sized rooms hasn’t worked; even the Family Good Sport is frowning in pain.

Apparently, playing Second Grave Digger in a school play does not give you celebrity-watching-the-game status.

And earnest (but off-rhythm) attempts to fill the ‘celebrity percussionist’ slot using a set of plastic buckets only leads to threats of bodily harm and expulsion.

“Booking” seats has also created some bitterness.

Venerable Age pulling the ‘It’s MY house’ stunt is evidently unacceptable, and word on the front veranda is that things could get ugly over the next few evenings.

The kitchen-in-charge wishes to place on record that statements like ‘Nice, but somehow doesn’t taste the same’ will not be appreciated.

As for the heart-thumping roar of thousands of voices – even the noisiest, most argumentative – of families cannot provide that particular pulse-racer.

Oh well, TV compensates – no question.

And it’s all part of the game anyway.