29/04/2013 | by sam | 5 comments
Words by Chris Moran
Is it just me, or does anyone else hate the word ‘boarder’? I don’t believe I’m alone. When did you hear Terje refer to our wonderful sport as ‘boarding’? When did Jenny Jones last say, “I go boarding all winter long”? And when was the last time you read in this very magazine the words, “we had a great time boarding around the three vallees”?
I’ll tell you when: never. NEVER!
And why? Because no self-respecting snowboarder on Earth should ever – ever! – refer to this life-changing sport by that filthy, utterly depraved moniker that is: ‘boarding’.
Eurgh, just typing it makes me want to kill ants.
I know I’m inching towards being a wanker, but I don’t care. My pride is long gone. I don’t mind being ridiculed, but I don’t want to be a ‘boarder’ any more. I’m a snowboarder. I ride my snowboard and am therefore also a rider. And I’m damned proud of it. Here are some points you can choose to read or not read, depending on whether you’re a ‘boarder’ or not.
Why shorten it anyway?
“I remember talking to someone in a pub and they asked me if I’d seen the footie last night,” said comedian and famed football pundit Frank Skinner in a recent interview, “and I knew straight away that this guy wasn’t a fan. If anything, he was a wanker.” The quote says a lot. Why do sport names need to be shortened anyway? Point to remember: don’t call it boarding.
It just sounds wrong.
No-one has any idea how these things work, but poetically, boarding just doesn’t sit well. Consider this – in English we call two-way radios Walkie Talkies. But in France they call them – and don’t laugh too loud – Talkie Walkies! Ha ha! How ridiculous is that? Now yes, technically there’s not much in it, but come on, Talkie Walkie sounds ludicrous. It makes them sound like a toy! Point to remember: don’t call it boarding.
The Daily Mail refer to it as ‘boarding’.
And they tried to ‘Ban This Killer Craze’ back in 1992. Fuck them. Point to remember: The Daily Mail newspaper was originally conceived in order to count the number of cunts in the kingdom. The figure is printed on the front under ‘circulation’.
‘Boarding’ as a verb is already common currency.
Genuine people who ‘board’ are usually living at a public school because their parents hate them so much they’ve shipped them off for a couple of years. Here they will undergo a course of buggery and peer-group torture and be deluded into thinking it’s all good tuition on how to run a country. But the truth is their ‘boarding’ is simply a device so their parents can get some peace and spend a bit of time organising some decent wife-swapping parties. Point to remember: don’t accept an invite to stay at an aunt’s house in Dorking unless you know for a fact that the paintings don’t have moving eyes. And don’t call it boarding either.
It’s not cool.
People who think they’re cool say things like “yeah, I’ve just had a fantastic week ‘boarding’ out in Verbier. I did all the blacks by Wednesday” Point to remember: don’t call it boarding.
Want to sound like a snowboarder? Call it riding.
I ride a snowboard. I’ve been riding in France quite a lot, I rode down the Vallee Blanche last year and it was flat as fuck. I avoided all the black runs in Chamonix because any self-respecting snowboarder knows they’re utter shite. I met some boarders in Bar’d Up. They were a bunch of utter cunts. Points to remember: the pen is mightier than the boarder.
Simon Cowell – salopettes pulled up to his nips with a bulging crotch from the self-wedgie he’s inflicted – would try and chat up some chalet slags using his enormous wealth and opulent digs and the word ‘boarding’. I reckon. Point to remember: the X-Factor is only good during the audition rounds. The voting part is entirely shite. And don’t call it boarding.
Marty Pellow from Wet Wet Wet probably goes ‘boarding’.
Wishing I Was Lucky.
The name of our sport is snowboarding. Right – I’ve got an idea. If you’re read this and agreed, you’re all on ‘boarder patrol’. The concept is simple. If you catch anyone blaspheming our sport by calling it by the name which shall forth-right never be mentioned again – you have one mission. Take a picture of them with your phone (or draw them in ash on a pub table – we just need a likeness) then send it in to us at White Lines. We’ll publish all the photos under a new ‘name and shame’ campaign I’ve just invented.
Who’s in? Point to remember: let’s stop the rot.
Sweet Little Mystery.
That’s it. Yes I know there are probably better things to be doing with our publishing space, but like George Bernard Shaw said: “Football isn’t life and death. It’s less important than stopping every fucker on Earth referring to snowboarding as boarding. Get your pictures into White Lines and support the campaign.”
I’m paraphrasing of course, but you get the general idea. You know the address: firstname.lastname@example.org