My Olympic Dream

Finally my life-long dream has come true and I am going to the Olympics.

Yes, all that training during the annual Special Olympics on the beautiful island of Ibiza, famed for the levels of endurance by both visitors and islanders, has finally paid off and I have my golden ticket.  That and my recent training in 93 Feet East in Brick Lane, which is a similar venue to those created around the corner in the posher part of East London.

Before you ask, I am not going to be one of the athletes.

I am quite happy watching, far easier and I can get on with my life afterwards.

I am going to be going to be watching something called Hockey.  For those that have never come across this, I am told it is like Polo but without the horses, and played on ice.  The ice has been died bright blue and bright pink, to match the new Union Jack being designed for the Olympics to sell to dumb forreners.  There is also a lot of fighting, which I am very excited about especially because it is woman’s hockey.  I hope hockey is popular in Brazil.  Hmmm.

Failing that, a match between Iran and Israel would suitably amuse me.  I wonder if Boris Johnson will be there?  Probably not though as I heard all politicians have the beach volleyball tickets.

Will they have cheerleaders too?

I asked my Dad if I could shout “Get yer tits out” and he said that is ok.  My mam doesn’t read my blog.  I wonder if my parents might fancy a few drinks down Brick Lane afterwards?

Picture stolen from the Daily Mail website as I reckon they would be well into hockey with all the immigrants that play it.

(c) Olympic James 2012.

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