It’s a sad day, for the Olympics are over – and without any bias whatsoever I can say, hand on heart, that they were the best ever – especially if you’re from Yorkshire, which would have been 12th in the medals table were it independent (as it should be). By ‘eck, we even scored as many golds as the Aussies who never really turned up to the biggest show on Earth.

The county now has more golden post boxes than anywhere else on the planet ‘appen as not.

There are some like professional malcontent an d ‘social commentator’ Peter Hitchins who witter about the Olympics being rubbish simply as a matter of course (although he has graciously permitted the rest of us to enjoy it, which is very magnanimous for someone who clearly lives in a state of permanent misery to judge by the ‘dog shit smeared above the top lip’ appearance he carries about himself) but it seems that the vast majority have had a splendid time, whether watching or competing.

That said I too had a brief Hitchins moment last night whilst watching the closing ceremony. It was when the ‘super models’ were wheeled out as an example of London’s place as a hub of the fashion industry.

For could anything be further away from the likes of Mo Farah, Jess Ennis and Wiggo than Kate Moss or Naomi Campbell? Paid vast sums for no discernible talent, no discernible hard work, no discernible sense of humour or modesty, these ridiculous human clothes horses were about the only downside to two weeks of epic sporting action.

The big question now is, what will we all do of an evening from here on? Whippet racing, perhaps?



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