Olympic Disenchantment

When it was announced that the 2012 Olympics would be held in London, I was ecstatic. 

There would be new world records, drugs tests, an influx of supporters from all over the world, and androgynous athletes being publicly humiliated by the BBC.

And I would be right in the middle of it all! I couldn't wait to be eagerly supporting Usain Bolt, insulting Dwain Chambers, and wondering if Phillips Idowu’s hair is naturally that colour.

Sadly, it was not to be.

I should have done the maths.

With around 7 million people in London, and a maximum capacity of 80,000 people in the Olympic Stadium, I guess I was foolish to expect to see everything. Indeed, between all of my immediate family, none of our applications resulted in the winning of tickets, as we discovered on Friday.

Consequently, a feeling of disenchantment hung in the air over our Friday night dinner table, with my parents feeling personally victimised by Sebastian Coe, claiming “Our taxes paid for them! And we’re not even allowed in!” My dad, an engineer at heart, spent most of the meal devising a much fairer system for ticket allocation, whilst my mum loudly resented the fact that Boris Johnson will no doubt be allowed in anyway, despite also not winning tickets through conventional means. We did our best to console her, “its okay. Nick Clegg probably won’t get in”.

I do feel a tad sorry for Mr Clegg. Whilst I concede there may be some benefit to David Cameron entertaining lots of Iranian dignitaries during the London Olympics, I feel that making the Deputy Prime Minister serve them caviar is slightly too belittling.

Regardless, we concluded over our desert that we will spend the summer of 2012 on holiday in the Caribbean. After all, it will be very peaceful: all the Jamaicans will be over here.