I can't think of anything hugely entertaining off my own bat today, so here's one somebody else prepared earlier. It's a TV clip from a Japanese candid camera show, courtesy of the Guardian YouTube roundup. The premise is that the world speed walking champion, one Jefferson Perez of Ecuador, is trying to set a new record on a Japanese track, when five actors dressed as Samurai run into the stadium, pretend to cut down the security guards with their swords and chase after him round the track. Will Perez break the sacred code of the walker, and run on the track?

Well what would you expect? Not only does he run not walk, he hares off across the grass in the middle in a direction carefully calculated to maximise his chances of staying alive.  The fact that the question had to be asked at all says rather more about the TV show than it does about Perez. And why are they two samurai short? Cheapskates.

The samurai pursue him in a big loop round the field as he flees in terror, while the commentators talk disparagingly about his slow running. Um, the man's a walking champion, not a running champion. Under the circumstances, I think it's safe to assume he's doing his best.

At the end, the commentators describe how they had to explain to Perez that there weren't any samurai in Japan any more, as if running away was an act of cultural imperialism on his part. I was amazed by how well he took it. If it had been me, I'd have punched someone.

Talking of which, here's Dennis Leary socking it to Mel Gibson at a Red Sox game. Not literally, as Gibson was in rehab at the time, but refreshingly different from the sanctimonious garbage we get on the baseball feeds Channel 5 carry.