Regular visitors to potlatch (TM) will notice that the Olympics is something of a preoccupation around these parts. So as you can imagine, I'm as excited as anyone about the Greatest Sporting Show On Earth (TM) that is about to land on my doorstep this Friday. When I say "anyone", of course I mean the commuter who is stuck with their face in someone else's sweaty armpit, because London's pre-distressed transport network has been reduced to complete lock-down, thanks to the 2,000 journalists, 250 Australians and 650,000 business executives who are descending on London for the next fortnight. When I say "anyone", I do not, of course, mean the Olympic Committee, who are hanging out in Buckingham Palace, as part of their bribe (TM) for not giving the games to Paris.
As the unofficial scribe of the Olympics, I present to you the Official Potlatch (TM) Curmudgeon's Guide To the 2012 Olympics, compiled from the last 12 months of rants and raves:
Emotional Blackmail by Olympics, July 27th, 2011
The post-speculative Olympics, November 11th 2011
Olympics as political bottleneck, February 29th, 2012
How to restore pricelessness, April 15th, 2012
Against the cashless Olympics, June 1st, 2012
Essential anti-Olympic reading, June 23rd, 2012
And with that, I'm off to hide in a cave for the next 18 days or so. My dad offered me a ticket to the croquet or something, but faced with a dilemma between ethnographic curiosity and moral consistency I opted for the latter. So I'm staying well away from Stratford. Sadly, as demonstrated by the fact that the BBC 10 O'clock News (sprinking its coverage with updates on the Syrian uprising and the demise of European capitalism) now comes live from the Olympic park, the whole charade seems unlikely to stay away from me.