Something has gone horribly wrong with the TEAM GB sports men and women in Beijing. A quick glance
at the table to the left shows that Great Britain are having a disastrous Olympics Games and have risen to third place.
"I assure you" said some Olympic Wonk, "that we will sit down and pose some serious questions to our Athletes when they return and try to reach a solution to reverse this unfortunate set of events".
Damn right mister because this just isn't good enough. Us British are just not accustomed to seeing our boys and girls standing on an Olympic Podium belting out how they want God to save the Queen with Gold medals adorning their chests.
What we do is sigh and hope that an asteroid hits the American runner who is jumping around excitedly after winning the 200m (show some stiff upper lip you American boys, nobody likes a show-off).
What we can't do is work out what to do when we actually start winning. Is it the correct etiquette to bounce up and down on the sofa screaming at the human shaped pixels on the TV set to row/pedal/run/swim faster and leaping in the air with a fist clenched 'YOU EFFING BEAUTY' when we win which is the style i seem to have fallen into this weekend. As the Rebecca Adlington gold medal in the 800m freestyle came at 3.10 am Saturday morning it probably wasn't the most sociable thing to do but if my neighbours still speak to me after my loud drunken renditions of show tunes at midnight on a Saturday night, i am sure they won't mind a bit of top of the lungs cussing every four years.
So there we sit third in the medal table with 11 golds, 6 silvers and 8 bronze although i gave up on Paula Radcliffe and missed the inevitable break down on the Beijing road where she stopped, walked, screamed, cried and posed for photos for the Monday morning newspapers.
Most joyfully we are above the Australians who must be crying into their Vegemite sandwiches this morning. Us British blogger's can start to plan our taunting posts to Australians now.