Dear Dirty America

MICHAEL J BLAIR
Perthshire, Scotland

They flew into Heathrow today to a fanfare of hot air from a host of media commentators. Gushing eulogies and praise heaped upon them like a farmer cleaning out a byre.

Yes, the BBC commentators had landed to fervent nationalistic adulation. They held up gleaming microphones to be snapped up by the waiting phalanx of photographers. This was their ultimate triumph. Four years in the planning, endless hours of memorising names and countless other useless statistics to baffle us with from faraway Brasil.

On every news programme, every newspaper the BBC was lauded as the winners of the 2016 Rio Olympic Games. Beacons were lit on mountain tops across the country to tell the population that they had returned triumphant from the wilds of South America as record breaking winners!

To have bettered the enormous amount of fawning ass kissing and all round jingoism of the 2012 London Olympics was a staggering achievement. Beyond the wildest imaginings of the head of the Corporation.

To have equaled the 2012 mountain of bullshit, but not just to have passed this milestone, but smashed it into oblivion, was a monumental effort. This would go down in the annals of history as something incredible, something stunning, something which would have to be bettered in Tokyo in 2020!

They would employ more Knights of the realm and another brace of Dames, to allow the public to see how seriously they were taking the next challenge.

There would be no excuses for failure. More money than ever would be thrown at the participants, to make sure nothing would stand in the way of the next triumphant Olympic adventure. Yes, it would be a journey, but a journey which would be the stuff of myths and eternal wonder.

On a later flight, the athletes arrived to an almost empty airport. The only people around seemed to be four cleaners who were debating whether to lay down their mops and head for the nearest pub.

Nobody was around except for a plane load of people dressed in tracksuits and wearing what looked like large medallions round their necks. The cleaning staff looked at each other and said, they had never seen so many chavs get off the same plane. They wearily shook their heads, propped up their mops and brushes and wandered off to the nearest bar.

The athletes were left wondering what was going on and were last seen dragging their huge amounts of luggage out of the terminal and into the midday sunshine, trying to make sense of what had happened.

As three of them got into a taxi big enough to take their luggage, the driver looked in his mirror and said,
“Do you know, an hour ago I had Sir Chris Hoy, Sir Steve Redgrave and Dame Kelly Holmes in this cab. They’re with the BBC you know!”

At this point the three athletes threw their gold medals out of the window and told the taxi driver to take them to the pub!

ALSO BY MJ BLAIR

Vote Bollocks Or Water Buffalo

Out Out Out! What’s next after Brexit?

The Brexit Turkeys have come home to roost

[header image of British Olympic athletes at Heathrow Airport courtesy of Agência Brasil Fotografias, Wikimedia Commons]