Peking or bust

Poor old Gordo has passed into the realms of the half-life. It is surely the only explanation.

Even the simplest decision now seems to involve him in a series of (Gordian?) knots and tangles from which, squirming and twisting, tie and hair askew, grin resolutely forced, lower lip juddering uncontrollably, he invariably extracts the worst of every possible world.

And the faster he commands the Downing St. spin machine to turn, creaking, groaning and heaving, the revs visibly in the red zone, threatening at any moment to expire in a spectacular explosion, parts flung outward from its disintegrating centre, the more, absurdly, preposterously, laughably, he pins his dwindling hopes on it.

Never has the clunking fist been more clunking.

His latest 'sophistry' that attending the Bejiing Olympic 'ceremonies' – of which there are precisely two, please note: the opening ceremony and the closing ceremony – always made clear he would only be at one – the closing ceremony – would shame a 10 year old. And he expects people to take this seriously?

There is a silver lining, however. Two actually. First, that if Jonah McNutterBrown is not present at the start of the Olympics, those British athletes who might otherwise have feared his inevitable curse would mean only a succession of British disasters, injuries, falls and other ignominies have at least been spared.

Two, that if he is only at the closing of the games, he can only inadvertently set off the sprinkler system at the Olympic stadium – more probably set the whole thing on fire, burning it to the ground – when it is too late to matter. The Chinese may be breathing signs of relief already.