Wednesday, 25 July 2012

Opening Ceremony - Sneak Preview

Grateful to Young Keith, who somehow got himself involved in the Opening Ceremony of an event I'm legally unable to mention. And no clues as to what Young Keith's part in it is, but he came up the drive tonight after the rehearsal, in a stunning Henry VIII outfit, including beard and gout.

This opening ceremony in which he was involved was themed on "Great Britain". Which will put the people of Northern Ireland (or, at least, half of them) right out. The whole thing starts with people dressed as Sherpa Tenzing and Sir Edmund Hillary abseiling down from the roof of the stadium. Then 1,000 members of the PCS union, wearing Union Jack waistcoats and bowler hats, walk out at the last minute. They are followed by the cast of "The Only Way is Essex", right up to the point where the high heels of the women get stuck in the grass.

A line-up of former British sports stars does the polka. They include Dame Kelly Holmes, Nobby Styles, Kevin Keegan's perm and Lord Archer. They are joined by four hundred school children, dressed as playing cards, singing a selection from Lionel Bart's show tunes.

A "square" of British redcoats forms around the Shot Putt circle, in a reminder of our heroic colonial past that we're not allowed to mention. Then in a tribute to our tradition of surreal humour, a Constructor Fleet hovers overhead, giving Sir Michael Caine the cue to say "Vogons! Thousands of them!" The Constructor Fleet rains down doughnuts, while aged Cockerneys reflect that it's just like the Blitz.

The stadium fills with water to a depth of three feet (a reminder of the environmental awareness of the British people, and foreboding of what awaits East London in years to come). A squad of Portugese trawlers sail across the stadium, hoovering up our British fish and then, as the water drains away, it reveals shining, four-foot-wide Big Macs leading as a set of stepping stones up to the cauldron that will cradle the Flame. The spotlight follows these cheery stepping stones back to the "tunnel" into the ground, where it is revealed that the heroic figure who is to light the flame is... Tony Blair. Our Tone ascends towards the cauldron, while Cherie follows close behind, encouraging him to trip over so she can sue the pants off the Organising Committee.

Jellied eels rain down on the assembled masses. The light of the Mount Olympus sun - transmitted by satellite and magnified by Sir Alan Sugar's new technological advancement, the magnifying glass - bounces off Tone's teeth. At just the last moment, as the shining from Blair's teeth is about to light the cauldron, John Terry parachutes down clutching Kate Moss. Kate lights the cauldron with the dog-end of her woodbine, while Terry runs off in the Sky Cycling team's kit claiming the credit. Katie Price skips through the stadium handing out free copies of her latest novel, while a selection of bankers is thrown into the water jump on the steeplechase. The occupants of the Big Brother House stay locked in the house, for which everybody is grateful.

1 comment :

  1. I've only ever been to one opening ceremony, but we had Real Royalty to hand to oversee the proceedings.

    1987, somewhere in North Kent, the Princess Royal appeared to open the rebuilt military establishment that I worked at. Following a formal Guard of Honour, she walked the walk, and took lunch with us and a host of hangers on, who have to appear when Royalty is sniffed in the air.

    Later she toured a display of our fighting power and in the evening, was the guest of a prestigious dinner in her honour at a prestigious city establishment, where we were waited on by nubile young female soldiers.

    Throughout, she displayed the sense of decorum and grace which comes naturally to her and displayed an ironic sense of humour, which would have made her reading this blog a must.

    This is what we do best, a bit of pomp and ceremony, a Royal and people on the streets waving flags and having a great time.

    I think that set piece spectacle that the opening of the East London Jamboree will be a dogs dinner, mish, mash of stuff, featuring an ancient beetle and loads of other unworthies, while the cockney population hangs around the fringes, having not been invited and not being able to afford tickets.

    As you might see, I am totally disillusioned by such shenanigans, particularly as I've been paying for it for the last X years from my Council Tax and I understand will be for 10 years more. Hopefully, I will be moving beyond the range of this next year.

    Bah, humbug!!!


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