London 2012 Olympics are meant to be a jolly montage of smiling Brits waving the Butcher's apron in the sunshine. Gritting teeth with stiff upper lips steeped in their myth of the blitz spirit, half-starved with the prospect of a dirty bombs this time as they pine for their long lost Empire. Jolly good and that, with the pretence of more fun, than than they really are having, Still mustn't grumble. Come on Bully boy!, chin up its not the end of the world!, or is it ?
Perhaps they will leave their mortal City grinning and bearing it. Nothing wrong with remaining positive, despite an economy going down the toilet, with young people unable to get jobs and millions sunk in debt. Meanwhile back in the city of its namesake with the British army on the street again, Lord Muck likes to call it Londonderry while he's on about Prince Harry's blue shoes and how everyone in Londonderry including Shame Fein loves his Queen.
People like Lord Muck of Londonderry say "it's what we do best in this country," meaning feebly succumbing to a faded sense of belonging to a Britain that never existed in reality. The world of Lord Muck's cheery beefeaters on fridge magnets to distract commoners from their starker reality. So let London and Londonderry have a jolly big parties costing billions of taxpayers pounds that they can't afford, pretending they don't have any problems which got them into this mess in the first place. And Oh Yeah ! lets pretend that ordianry people are not being interned without trial with rampant human rights abuses, torture, solitary confinement and all that fascist stuff in British Occupied Ireland.
