While to you or I the London Olympics appears to be all jolly hockey sticks and splicing one's main brace, it is not all as hoity-toity, what-what-what and fox murdering as one might think. It is true that a large part of the Olympic proceedings have hinged upon the royals, not-as-buffoonish-as-he-makes-out, perennial public schoolboy Boris Johnson and that posh horsey mincing and jumping event that no one understands, but the Games has in fact been the cause of instances of degradation, deprivation and other things ending in ation.
Quite apart from the fact that the Olympic
have been, and will continue, removing
people from their homes to make way for the greatest show on Earth, Olympic
fever has encouraged young people to intentionally take
up life on the streets. One such half-wit had been queuing up for days for
the chance to purchase tickets to see his hero, doe-eyed jogging champ Mo
Farah. “The sacrifices I have put up with for two days are nothing compared
with what Mo Farah was prepared to do,” he babbled while taking a long gulp of
his own urine to wash down part of the cardboard box that was doubling as his
shelter for the night. “It will have been worth it if I get a ticket,” he
continued through bleeding gums.
One of the rough sleeping ticket hopefuls earlier today
But not all of London’s new Olympic vagabonds have taken to the streets in order to get their hands on overpriced athletics tickets, some are simply emulating their hero, gold winning German Frisbee thrower Robert Harting. Harting spent Tuesday night sleeping on the streets when he was robbed and his accreditation was stolen, and he was consequently refused entry to the Olympic village. He later told the press that he regretted ripping off his shirt after winning gold as it would have come in handy while he was sleeping in the gutter. As it was he had to make do with covering himself in medical waste that he discovered around the back of St Bartholomew’s hospital.
The Underground has also fallen foul of the Olympic squalor as Tube cleaners have taken strike action over Games bonuses this week. This has lead to the worst conditions since the blitz, with commuters wading through McDonalds wrappers, used tissues and the corpses of abandoned buskers in order to access trains. And the vermin are getting bigger.
Even Downing Street isn’t safe from the tone of dilapidation that the Olympics is ringing out over London. David Cameron feels as if he is living on a council estate like a grubby commoner, as booming music from the beach volleyball events keeps him awake at night. The Prime Minister has told me in confidence that he fears it is only a matter of time until he looks out of his window to see a tattooed football fan urinating in his petunias whilst his Staffordshire bull terrier makes sweet love to one of his gnomes.
Is this the Olympic legacy we've been hearing so much about?