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Thursday, 26 July 2012

Alternative Olympics

With the Games upon us, it's just possible that those of us who see a life past Stratford will be in need of a celebratory cocktail, one Olympian in its fortification and stout in its resilience – and when I say stout, I don't mean the Irish stuff. What I have to offer is something quasi-commemorative. Or should that be queasy? (See report from the HSE down the page.)
First of all it needs to be pink...

... to match the official colour of the 2012 Olympics logo. For that we add a good measure of cranberry juice. If it's measures you're after, you can call it a dash – as in 100 metres dash which is likely to be won by the Bolt from the Blue.

Other vital ingredients:
* A good slug of bitters. This will sound a chime with those desperate for it to be all over.
*A fair few beta blockers ground into powder and spooned in. This ingredient, discovered by Scottish pharmacologist Dr James Black and which won him the Nobel Prize in 1988, will help correct any anxiety by officials and Mitt Romney alike. Though no one wants to be like Mitt Romney.

* 1 kg of sour grapes. This is for Ed Milliband who failed to make the political capital he'd hoped for in the light of the G4S lack of security scandal. 
*1 heaped tbsp of powdered zinc. This is an age-old antidote for jitters in the tummy for others still concerned about a lack of proper security. (See above).
* Oh, and a pint of gin. This is a corrective for those of a nervous disposition as they contemplate weeks of torture on the airwaves.

I'm calling it ... Hammered. Well, we will be.

Having tasted the prototype of this substantial cocktail, I write this blog from my hospital suite at Guy's, where, I am assured by the lovely nurses and surly consultants, that if I wish a top-up it will have to be administered via a drip.

Note from Elf and Safety: do not try this at home. 
"We elves know what we're talking about," said an elf spokesperson. "The Tolkienians among you will recall how we almost ruined the cocktail party for Gandalf and co."

"Almost, but not quite" rejoined Mr Tolkien. "So stuff that in yer pipe and smoke it." 
Meanwhile, do have a listen to this ... for the benefit of two charming young gentlemen of my acquaintance who, despite months of trying, only managed to get tickets for that brilliant spectator sport, the weightlifting.