The following is not taken from a reputable news outlet. And there is also an excessive use of bold.
"In a show of pure talent and determination, Katelin Anning has taken out the single mixed-sculling event at the 2012 London Olympic Drinks Tent. Anning swallowed her way to victory in the Heineken pint division over fellow Australian, Matt Gray, leaving many to question - Mr Gray, just where are your testicles?"
She got me off the start and I never recovered. Where as I tried the Usain Bolt approach (blow 'em away in the second half), she went Jess Ennis (start fast, never look back) and left me feeling both defeated and mildly dizzy. I did buy her a Cadbury Gold Medal but I ate it. Like pretending you never have loose change in front of homeless people - it's the thought that counts.
I have loved these Olympics so far and if you've managed to spend some time at the park, you'll understand why. There's a buzz. There's a vibe, Darryl. And for all the talk of transport Armageddon and the city coming to a halt, I think everything has run quite smoothly - trains are on time, the volunteers provide nice comic relief and the beers are served fast.
So, my thoughts for week one of the Olympics in no particular order -
The Opening Ceremony was quite a spectacle. I could have done without seeing that Johnny Wilkinson drop goal during the introduction on the big screen at Hyde Park reminding me of how I left an accounting exam early in 2003 to watch the World Cup final, only to have a blonde stocky git slot goal after goal as if he were a disenfranchised pensioner riding a winning streak on the pokies at the local bowls club. I was subsequently asked to leave the premises after throwing an empty jug at the big screen. Thanks, Johnny. Nonetheless, I thought the ceremony was an awesome spectacle and a great tribute to Britain (or Middle Earth, same thing). The industrial revolution sequence in particular had my jaw dropped in awe. Not sure why they had pirates playing cricket. 'Because they aaarrrgghhh' was one response. He was subsequently punched in the face and sent off to buy the next round. Likewise I'm still confused why Rod Stewart played Hey Jude at the end (and in what universe does Duran Duran NOT play Girls on Film?) but it was, without doubt, a great start to the games. High Fives to Queen Liz for her part with 007 as well.
The place itself is quite a site/sight. Walking in to the Olympic Park, a few things jumped out at me. Firstly, why is the Orbit not a water slide? Secondly, there are no bikes allowed (sucks if you have tickets to the cycling). And thirdly, neither are teepees or tents. I haven't figured out how that impacts the archery or men watching women's beach volleyball just yet but I'm sure it does.
What else? The park is easy to get around with plenty of well-marked bins for recycling, food and ponchos. Yes, ponchos. Again - ponchos. This is also one of the friendliest events I've been to. On the day of the aforementioned sculling race, we garnered photos with people from all around the world, were interviewed by the Times and coerced behind the bushes for a bizarre collection of action shots by an excitable German photographer. Looking forward to where those end up.
On the sporting front, we were lucky enough to be trackside for the first session of the athletics, which was one of the most amazing atmospheres I've ever experienced. Besides giant sweaty men throwing heavy silver balls and/or heavy silver balls attached to handles and called hammers, we got to see Jess Ennis explode out of the blocks in the 100m hurdles on her way to gold in the Heptathlon. Throw in a few bouts of men's waterpolo (calm down, ladies) and seeing the Australian Basketball Team do their thing, it's been a full calendar of harder, better, faster, stronger. I also won about 60p on a £5 bet on Usain Bolt in the 100m. Better than a kick in balls if you ask me (and if you've seen the men's waterpolo, you know what I'm talking about).
Finally, a little glitz and glamour, after a big opening ceremony we hit the Maccas in the park on Saturday a little worse for wear only to find ourselves lined up next to a very hung-over Boris Johnson(prior to being caught on the high ropes course - closing ceremony spoiler?). Not long after, we passed Pippa Middleton. Wasn't sure it was her at first but once I realised she was walking in slow motion and saw her from behind, confirmation was absolute. Lastly, I caught a stoic Tyson Chandler walking behind my office in East London. No one seemed to recognise the reigning NBA Defensive Player of the Year, and my screams of 'Tyson!' went unheard by him and his four bodyguards. Not even my follow up of 'Why so defensive?' seemed to get a reaction. But I knew he was laughing on the inside, even if his face wasn't. Or his middle finger. Ah Tyson, you crazy bastard.
One last thing - the mascots look like giant marital aids. And I'm pretty sure there's a market at the men's waterpolo. Just sayin'.