A Dead Gerbil

So what will become of our spectacular arrangement of steak and kidney pies once the 2012 Olympic Games is over and we have nothing to show for it but a plethora of branded ‘souvenir’ items for which there is no really discernable use?

Shall we like the accountants of the times of legend and auditing mount our trusty (and tax-deductible) steed and just ride off into the sunset in search of the next lonesome audit?

Or, shall we take a stand against pointless frippery and say this I the last time that something allegedly ‘tasteful’ yet manifestly awful will ever be inflicted upon those who suffer such a wide disparity between their financial status and their sense?

I don’t know, I don’t know anything, so there is no point asking me. I used to think I knew things, but then Reality TV is still being produced, politicians still get elected, the religions still go about contradicting the real, the obvious and the true, so what do I know?

You’d be better off looking for advice, understating, wit and wisdom from a dead gerbil. At least, with a dead gerbil, rather than a once over-opinionated blog-wrangler who it now seems has nothing left to say, but still insists on saying it, there is some deeply-profound satisfaction to be gained from poking it with a stick.