As the last of the fireworks died in the skies above the nation’s capital and the Spice Girls were quietly and humanely euthanized by a specialist team, the London 2012 Olympic Games came to an end with a triumphant ceremony that celebrated everything good to have ever come out of Britain; chiefly, small cars, One Direction and Sally Gunnell
However, in keeping with NHS warnings about an excess of the alien concept of ‘national pride’ and ‘optimism’ that the event has been pumping insidiously into the national psyche, Olympics organisers have projected the image of a large clock in the skies of central London. The clock, which is counting down to a time when Britons can finally stop being upbeat and proud about Laura Trott and can go back to being mournful shambling shades who live only to whinge about the drizzle and the exorbitant mortgage rates.
The clock- shaped like the weeping face of Adrian Chiles- will reach the end of its countdown at noon today, at which point a loud klaxon recording of Nick Griffin misquoting Churchill to incite football hooligans to kick Sikhs to death will be sounded- this is to remind the nation that it’s the proper time to resume feeling thoroughly defeated and bitter.
“We were prepared for anything except the slim possibility of it being anything other than a gigantic, mismanaged cock souffle.”
“When Greg Rutherford won the Men’s Long Jump gold, fourteen people died, their blood be upon him”
NHS experts were said to be comfortable with the level of shambles leading up to the event, with the stadium being built by sarcastic thieves and, more recently Sebastian Coe shooting anyone who was not sponsored directly by Coca-Cola in the neck with a harpoon gun. However, when Danny Boyle’s opening extravaganza stirred somrthing alien and ancient and...warm in the British hearts, hospitals were notified to brace for the worst.
The opening celebration claimed many lives through the medical trauma associated with national goodwill but hospitals around the country have been warning the government that the continued positivity being generated by the event was threatening to overwhelm the nervous systems, claiming a death toll the equivalent of the population of Doncaster at the first sight of women’s boxing champion Natasha Jonas punching a lady with her cushioned fists.
Olympic Official Jessica Bumbridge assured us that the worst is over, “Now Chris Hoy has been put out to stud, the gold medals have been sent off by the athletes to Cash4Gold, and the sight of Tinchy Strider riding a Union Jack firework into the skies as a stadium of thousands joined in one voice to sing Duran Duran’s Hungry like the Wolf is starting to fade in our collective memory like the morning after an ecstasy trip”
“When the clock strikes 12, it’ll be like this never happened.”
Steps are being taken to ease the public back into the normalcy of resigned fatalism and open weeping in the streets. the BBC’s post-Olympics coverage, for example, is being presented by four taciturn Yorkshiremen none of whom have much time for them bloody showoffs in ‘that London’, also any future televised discussion of the event is to be accompanied by a small window depicting the bleak and defeated face of Nick Clegg rotating like a kebab
It is expected that Britons will be back to moaning about the recession and commuting and Jamie Oliver’s weird mouth by Friday