Plymouth Puts Shiny New £46m Life Centre On eBay – No Reserve

As Britain’s local authorities agreed today that they could either continue to change your granny’s pissy knickers once a week or run the facilities they were entrusted with generations ago for the public to benefit from, Plymouth City Council leader Viv Pengelly nailed a giant ‘EVERYTHING MUST GO!!!’ sign to its just-opened £46m sports complex, The Life Centre, and posted it on eBay with a starting price of just 99p.

Ikea and Fyffes Bananas have already placed bids

The eBay listing describes the Life Centre as a “Bran new sport’s complexs, including familey lesure pool, fitnes's sweet for 150 janner’s, kid's climing wall. Paint still drieing! Hardley used. Surounded by 250 acers of lush green parkland in prime central location (see my other auction's). Cost 46,500,000 £££’s new. Reason for sale: unwanted gift.”

A spokesman for the cash-strapped westcountry council – which, in recent years, has already divested itself of its buses, its airport, all hope for the future and any pretence at caring – pointed out that all local authorities were being forced to dream up new ways of meeting the staggering cost of wringing stale wee out of your nan’s bedclothes without negatively impacting on their hardworking senior officers’ modest remuneration packages.

“You could say that it was perhaps a trifle lavish of Plymouth City Council to throw money it hadn’t got at a monumental vanity project its citizens couldn’t afford,” he explained. “But you won’t say it in the local paper, because it was their damn fool suggestion in the first place.”

“And, of course, it goes without saying that you’ve long since forgotten that you all said it was a bloody brilliant idea at the time,” he added.

Football Fans Consumed By Collective Guilt

Angst-ridden football supporters are united today in blaming Fabrice Muamba’s life-threatening on-pitch heart failure solely on their own selfish need to be entertained by fast-paced action.

Whoever would have thought football could be so degrading?

“This is all my fault,” said every footy fan today in an orgy of critical self-loathing. “What sort of callous, degraded excuse for a human being am I to expect my fellow men to push their frail bodies to the very brink of death, merely to briefly satisfy my insatiable craving for excitement? It’s as cruel and inhuman as gladiators hacking each other to pieces in the Colosseum. Well, I swear I won’t ever set foot inside a football stadium again, not for as long as I live. My conscience will never let me.”

“This pointless tragedy has finally opened my eyes,” each ashamed supporter admitted. “Anyone who still thinks it’s in any way acceptable to drool over this brutal contest deserves to be shunned by decent folk.”

“No game is worth a man’s life,” added the remorse-filled fans. “I’m cancelling my Sky subscription immediately, because I sense this must be something to do with Rupert Murdoch. He’s turned me into a baying, blood-drenched fiend, using hypnosis or something. Yes, that must be it. Everything’s his fault, the murdering bastard.”

God Banned From Olympics

This is the true spirit of the Olympiad

Tiresome spoilsport God is to be barred from Britain for the duration of the London Olympics under emergency legislation which, sources say, will be pushed through in George Osborne’s budget on Wednesday.

The chancellor is reported to be furious at God’s mulish refusal to permit dedicated sport fans to buy a sofa at 5:30 on a Sunday morning.

“If God won’t let the servant class work all the hours He sends, He can bugger off to North Korea for a couple of weeks and jolly well like it,” snapped a Treasury official. “His pig-headed attitude proves - if proof were needed - that sport and religion don’t mix.”

God may be allowed back into Britain once the sporting event has ended, he added, but only if He gives His solemn undertaking to the Tesco board of directors never again to interfere in their good works.

Sky Bids For Exclusive Rights To Chisora-Haye Gunfight

Broadcasters are desperately trying to outbid each other for the TV rights to the forthcoming shoot-out between British boxing rivals Dereck Chisora and David Haye, following their exhilarating display of top-level professional brawling at a press conference in Germany.

Don't miss the highlights on Sky Sports 1

The date and venue for the thrilling display of world-class marksmanship are undecided at the moment, with experts urging both participants to arrange their eagerly-anticipated deathmatch before one or both participants is jailed by the German authorities.

“As da challenged party, Haye gots da privilege of nominatin’ toasters,” explained a spokesman for the World Duelling League from the organisation’s headquarters in Corcoran State Prison, California. “He might, fo sho, be choosin’ da traditional option of rapiers, but today’s discerning sport hos is wantin’ automatic weapons and fast whips. For me, da dope biscuit gots to be – and indeed has been - a Uzi nina outa da back seat of a Lex.”

“I don’t know what kind of pussy wheels ma limey dogs gots, though,” he admitted. “How much rubber can a Mini burn when you rollin’ outa a 187?”

Bin Laden Felled By ‘Enery’s ‘Ammer

Evil genius Osama Bin Laden was taken down by the famous left hook of British boxing legend Henry Cooper in a precision assault planned by top military expert Richard Holmes and co-ordinated by whispering snooker commentator Ted Lowe, it emerged today.

Prof Holmes first applied his encyclopaedic knowledge of military campaigns to the mystery of Bin laden’s whereabouts, deploying foraging Pakistanis ahead of his main force in an ingenious adaptation of 19th century US cavalry tactics. Once his native scouts tracked down the terrorist mastermind, the Sandhurst and Cranfield lecturer deployed snooker’s ‘Whispering Ted’ to a forward observation post to quietly radio back Bin Laden’s movements.

'For those who see things in black and white, everything's gone green'

The moment Bin Laden stepped out of the house to hang out the washing, Prof Holmes gave the order for ‘our ‘Enery’ to be airdropped directly onto the specified co-ordinates, delivering a flurry of blows to the bearded criminal mastermind head and upper body. In desperation the Saudi-born villain hurled his dialysis machine at the gentleman of the ring, but the shrewd historian saw the opportunity to deploy ‘‘Enery’s ‘ammer’ with killing force while Bin Laden was off-balance, knocking the frail al-Qaeda leader’s battered head clean off his scrawny pencil neck.

“As students of Operation Fortitude - the allied plan to deceive Hitler into thinking that the D-Day landings would take place in the Pas de Calais area - will know, disinformation is an invaluable tool in times of war,” a dusty but elated Professor Holmes told reporters. “Carefully-timed news announcements of our supposed deaths led Obama to the fatally flawed conclusion that the deadly combination of my generalship, Ted’s finely-honed observational skills and Henry Cooper’s jackhammer left hook were no longer a viable threat. He lowered his guard, we struck and the forces of evil were defeated at minimal cost to allied lives.”

“”Students of military history will be scrutinising this victory for years to come,” he concluded, “As I plan to include it in Module 203: ‘From Troy To Terrorist: The Great Deception Strategies’ - coming soon to BBC4.”

Aguilera Sent To Guantanamo Bay For Treason

The murderous act a numbed America is already calling 2/6

Christina Aguilera has been flown, hooded and wearing an orange jumpsuit, to the notorious Guantanamo Bay detention centre after committing an unpardonable act of high treason against the United States of America, by murdering its defenceless national anthem at the nation’s most sacred ceremony, the Superb Owl.

Miss Aguilera seemed harmless at first, pitching the first four words correctly, but then millions of horrified viewers heard her turn the word ‘see’ into a hideous polysyllabic warble. But worse was to follow.

“Aguilera’s task was to sing 85 notes,” growled America’s foremost musicologist, Professor Ignatius Pop, 91. “Yet she unashamedly yodelled no less than 857 of the bastards before being wrestled to the ground by shocked officials, dragged off the pitch and handed over to federal marshals.”

“She further insulted this great nation by altering the lyrics, deliberately keeping her eyes on the twilight when she should have been watching our glorious flag,” snarled the venerable professor’s puppet twin. “And the goddam traitor didn’t even have the humility to atone for her heinous crimes by flopping her hooters out. I’m tearing up her insurance policy right now, the bitch.”

In the muted silence that followed, the Green Bay Packers scored a hollow and meaningless victory over the Pittsburgh Steelers in a softies’ version of rugby where all the players look like extras from ‘Deliverance’ at a Michelin man-themed fancy dress party.

Sacked Sky Presenter Seeks Extra-Large Tube Of Witch Repellant

So that's how Blackpool got promoted

Richard Keys, the Sky Sports presenter sacked after forgetting that the broadcaster he worked for is in the habit of leaving microphone channels open, today claimed that his views on the suitability of women regarding the interpretation of the rules of football were shared by the majority of extinct reptiles, and movingly shared his morbid fear of witches with the world.

Visiting TalkSPORT radio in search of a job, Mr Keys mistook the small studio he was ushered into for a job interview suite, and candidly confessed that he deserved to be “battered” for his “prehistoric banter” – an allegation hotly denied later by a crocodile spokesman for surviving saurians – before expressing his surprise at the anger his comments had generated and warning: “There are some dark forces at work here.”

The interview ended abruptly when Mr Keys claimed he saw the wing of a bat briefly bob to the surface of the coffee brought to him by “an evil tea witch”. He left via the fire escape, and was later spotted in an alternative health shop asking for “the biggest tube of witch repellent” they could find.

The BBC later apologised.

Peasants Keen To Hear Rich Woman’s Cake Speech

Shivering peasants jumped for joy in their icebound hovels today on hearing the proclamation that, at the end of a dreadful year of unrelenting poverty, redundancies, towering debt, political deceit, swingeing cutbacks, mounting racism, increasing troop casualties, rioting in the streets, police brutality and the return of class warfare, Her Majesty the Queen will use her Christmas Day speech to address the critical importance of cakes.

Let them play sport

The Queen, who this year has selected Hampton Court from among her many palaces as the fabulous backdrop for her thoughtful insights, is to celebrate the central role played by cakes in the lives of her lowly serfs – from the dainty fairy cakes served up by sweet old ladies in the tea tents of picture-postcard cricket matches on England's village greens to what she fondly believes to be hash browns sold by blissed-out hippies during the idyllic summer’s popular beat-music festivals.

“Countless thousands of peasants every week give up their time to participate in mixing and baking cakes of all sorts, or simply encourage others to do so,” opines the much-loved Queen, in a sneak preview which includes heartwarming footage of her grandsons in Lesotho fervently cramming their distended cheeks with Battenburg slices, laughing indulgently as picturesque little black orphans fight under their feet for loose crumbs.

"Cakes are common throughout the world and - mmm - play a part in providing a different perspective on life," she will add between mouthfuls, as she repeatedly pushes her jam-smeared royal visage into a Swiss roll the size of a railway carriage. “Yum.”

“It’s good to know that my plight is shared by the Queen, who has slumped to 12th position in the Forbes list of the world’s wealthiest monarchs,” acknowledged newly-redundant council care worker Michelle Hoskins, wiping a loyal tear from her eye. “I’m only sorry that, as I’ll probably be on benefits from now until the government abolishes them completely, I won’t be able to contribute any more income tax to prop her up.”

“It must be terrible being down to her last £349m,” she added mournfully. “God bless you, ma’am, for thinking of us at Christmas.”

Commonwealth Games: Health Experts To Inspect Olympic-Sized Latrines

Health officials in Delhi are donning biohazard suits this evening, as they get ready to examine the giant-sized cesspools which Commonwealth Games swimmers believe might be causing their digestive systems to shut down.

Speaking through the door of her bathroom in the athletes’ village, Liverpool’s Fran Halsall told reporters that, after diving through the crust of a giant rectangle of steaming excrement, she nearly lost her life fighting her way back through to the surface.

Fran Halsall finally surfaced after three minutes

“From then on it was a matter of who could drag themselves along the lane guide-ropes the fastest, yeah?” retched the 100m freestyle competitor, adding: “It doesn’t help that you're desperately trying to hold your breath for the entire race, believe me.”

Indian officials pointed out that conditions were the same for every competitor, however.

“Oh yes, everybody has been seeing the doctor,” smiled chief organiser Suresh Kalmadi. “He is telling me they are very stinky persons indeed, with every digestive ailment known to medicine. He is wondering how such diseased stinky persons ever qualified in their home countries. I have sent him home to have a bath, the poor fellow.”

Meanwhile, metre-wide bacteria carrying get-well-soon cards have been oozing out of the games’ swimming latrines and asking passers-by for directions to the athletes’ village.

Nevertheless, said English team leader John Adlington, any apologies would come too late for gold medallist Rebecca Adlington – sole survivor of the harrowing 800m freestyle tragedy - whose empty skin had just been found draped over a reeking lavatory bowl.

English And Scottish Athletes Set Out On Busman’s Holiday

English and Scottish athletes are flying out to Delhi today to compete in the troubled Commonwealth Games, after thanking their national sporting bodies for showing such concern for their welfare but pointing out that, being British, they were already accustomed to living in a squalid, substandard environment where nothing works properly.

“Ah’m frae Pennybrook, see?” explained Glasgow’s improvised javelin-throwing hope, Wee Billy Bampot. “So yon athlete’s village looks bonny tae me.”

“Ah was afraid ah wis goin’ tae put sae mich effort intae trashin’ the place ah’d be too knackered tae compete,” pointed out Mad Jimmy McTavish, Scotland’s leading head-butter. “Bit ah see ah woan’ haftae alter a thing. It’s a fair haem fra’ haem.”

As fresh research confirmed the UK as the worst place to live in the whole of Europe, competitors from south of the border echoed their Scots counterparts’ enthusiasm.

“Delhi’s faculties, yeah, is ver shoddy like produck uv plit’co crupshun, theevin’ propty developers, unskilled layba an’ like rusty bricks innit jenotameen?” said English 100m projectile-vomiting champion Sammi-Jo Bloggs. “Well I’m from Hackney yeah where vee Olympics is gonna be innit. Standud.”

Hackney's sporting facilities provide excellent training for Delhi

Dismissing safety fears raised by the murder of two tourists recently, she added: “Juno me mate Vikram yeah, ee’s got a cousin right wot knows sam bloke wot’s got faimly aht ver wot knows this geeza wot kin sawt me aht wiv a shoota innit, a proppa wan right yeah I fink iss a Oozy akshly, no questions arst jenotameen? Sawtid. Sah bring it on.”

England Fans Finally Beginning To Understand Why Their Teams Are Full Of Foreigners

As the FA meets to consider how Fabio Capello will be publicly executed, millions of sobbing England football fans are starting to exhibit early signs that a glimmer of understanding has dawned on them, linking the preponderance of foreign players in the domestic leagues in some way to their national side’s lacklustre performance in the World Cup.

In comparison to the lithe, gazelle-like foreign teams bounding majestically across the South African turf, England’s stumpy native players can easily be distinguished by prominent, ridged brows which overshadow their little piggy eyes as they extend down to their prognathous lower jaws, making them resemble monstrous troll/clam hybrids, or possibly Klingons with alopecia.

“It looks like our century-long pedigree breeding programme, taking advantage of rampant inner-city incest to produce the perfect footballer, may have backfired horribly,” conceded an FA spokesman, shortly after the national side’s crashing 4-1 humiliation at the hands of the German side.

The tennis at Wimbledon is suddenly achieving record viewing figures, however, as disgusted fans turn their backs on the World Cup and switch their loyal support to Andy Murray.

“I hear this Murray bloke’s in with a bloody good chance of putting the ball in the net,” grunted a typical tearstained fan, cheering loudly at every bad serve. “What? Oh.”

Meanwhile, somewhere in the world, Lewis Hamilton’s rocket-powered bathtub was beaten into second place by somebody or other - probably a foreigner - although nobody was there to see it.

Last Remaining BBC Staff Off To Glastonbury

The few BBC employees not over in South Africa for the World Cup or covering the tennis at Wimbledon packed their bags this afternoon and decamped to Glastonbury, confirmed a Securicor guard outside the derelict shell of the corporation’s Television Centre in Shepherds Bush.

“You may remember reading a couple of years ago that the BBC was embarking on a massive decentralisation project,” explained director-general Mark Thompson, sipping a G&T as he gazed out across the azure-blue Indian Ocean from the penthouse balcony of Port Elizabeth’s luxurious Radisson Blu hotel. “The original plan was to up sticks and move north to Salford - but God Almighty, have you seen Salford?”

“Christ, it’s a shithole,” he shuddered, pouring himself another drink. “So the board had a quick rethink – or a ‘peer-managed blue-skies focus interlude in Barbados’, as we call it on our tax returns – and decided that the senior management would achieve greater efficiency trotting from event to event around the world’s luxury hotels. Meanwhile the little people who actually make programmes would obviously be more productive in a region of England slightly closer to the West End shops, like Wimbledon - which is jolly handy for Wembley too, incidentally, saving the dear old licence payer a tidy sum in taxi fares from Salford.”

“And all the presenters can have a jolly every year, getting ripped to the tits on cider and ivory flakes at Glastonbury,” he added. “Chin chin, old boy.”

England Ecstatic Over Winning Something Or Other

All of England's problems were solved forever this afternoon, when some sportsmen won something off the Australians.

Triumphant grunts of "Engerlund! Engerlund!" echoed across this happy land as football fans leapt from their sofas and joyfully punched the air, spilling cans of Castlemaine 4X all over the dog, which they then hugged and kissed in jubilation.

"Jer see it?" screamed one delighted Manchester United supporter as he fell out of a heaving bar in Islington. "Everyone on the pitch seemed to be wearin' ver white strip uv Engerlund. Them Aussie fuckers wunt nowhere to be seen, I tell yer. Engerlund!"

A marginally less ignorant Arsenal supporter raised his chin from a pool of regurgitated Fosters to shout "Engerlund" several dozen times before observing that "We mustuv scared the shit artuv that Aussie goalie. 'E wuz 'idin' behind sum sawta plank 'e must of faand, lookin' like faw two pins 'e mite juss run awf an' 'ide. I lorst cant uv the goalie substichooshuns they made, muss uv bin gitin' on faw fifteen I reckon. Engerlund 'ad puzzeshun uv the ball from start ta finish, they wuz juss chuckin it rand like they wuz 'avin' a larf! Classic footy."

"Engerlund!" he explained, several times, before falling unconscious again.

Meanwhile, Britain's cricket fans - most of whom, strangely, seem to be neither white nor alcoholics - were said to be waiting patiently for India, Pakistan and the West Indies to walk all over the victorious England team in a series of predictable test-match defeats.

F1 Fingers Hover Over The Self-Destruct Button

Motor racing fans are looking forward to the next thrilling instalment of the Formula One legal season, with another exciting courtroom battle between the teams and the FIA looming.

The battle for the championship hotted up as eight out of the ten teams mounted their strongest challenge yet to current leaders Max Mosley and Bernie Ecclestone.

Up to now, nothing has been able to touch Mosley and Ecclestone's winning partnership of money, arrogance and contempt. However, with determined opposition from such former enemies as McLaren and Ferrari working together on a package of deals with the world's TV companies to run their own breakaway championship, the leading partnership looks set to be overtaken by events and left stuck in the gravel.

"The FIA team is using its tried-and-tested legal threat, as usual," said commentator Martin Brundle, "But it's looking increasingly like old technology. There's just too much money floating round the law courts these days - both the teams and the FIA acknowledge that. But they just can't seem to agree on the answer, which is probably to tell Hitley to stick poison-dwarf Ecclestone up his arse and fuck off to his Nazi dungeon."

Deadly Floating Coffin Rebuilt For Gruesome Death Record Attempt

The public will have the chance to see sudden decapitation in the Lake District for the first time in over forty years, after national park officials gave the go-ahead for high-speed trials by the restored Bluebird speedboat - which achieved lasting notoriety after somersaulting and killing its pilot, Donald Campbell, on Coniston Water during a 1967 attempt on the water speed record.

The wreck, and assorted bits of Mr Campbell, were recovered from the murky lake in 2001 by diver Bill Ghoul, who has lovingly and creepily restored the jet-powered slaughter boat.

"I think it is a good result," said Mr Ghoul. "I am euphoric at having the final objective in sight, namely a re-enactment of this death-trap's 300mph disintegration - only this time in front of a battery of state-of-the-art high-speed cameras."

Unfortunately, however, the team's efforts to restore the soggy remains of record-breaker Donald Campbell have met with rather less success.

"To be honest, there's only so much you can do when all you've got to work with is a skull wedged firmly in a flattened crash helmet, and some algae-covered bones rattling around inside a rotting set of overalls," admitted Mr Ghoul. "So we plan to run a TV reality contest to find a member of the public who will happily sit in the cockpit of this jet-propelled coffin as it tears itself - and him - apart live on national telly."

The initial application is only for trial runs at 100mph, to demonstrate that the lethal boat is only moderately frightening at such speeds. However, if the hideously-unstable Bluebird and its idiot cargo somehow manage to remain intact for long enough, the ultimate goal is a fresh attempt on the world speed record - almost certainly ensuring a bloody repeat of the disastrous 1967 attempt.

"Only this time it'll be in HD colour, and we'll be able to slow the carnage right down and zoom in on every severed body part as it hurtles through the spray," enthused Mr Ghoul as TV producers queued up with their cheque books.

"In bullet time, too," he added cheerfully.

The Doziness Of The Long-Distance Faller

A British parachutist has had a miraculous escape from splattery death after temporarily forgetting all about the thing he had strapped to his back.

James Boole, a skydiver with twelve years' experience, was filming another jumper in Russia for a TV documentary. He tumbled 6,000ft in freefall, only remembering to open his parachute moments before slamming into a snow-capped mountain at more than 100mph. Mr Boole has since been shipped home, encased in concrete from the neck down.

"It's my partner's fault for signalling too late," explained the veteran of more than two thousand jumps. "I was completely engrossed in looking through the camera viewfinder, and although it did seem a bit funny when I saw fir branches going by, I hadn't had a signal from the idiot I was filming."

"I did think he was coming down a bit slowly," Mr Foole went on. "So I thought about it for a while. 'It must be all the drag from that big funny umbrella thing he's hanging from,' I decided eventually. Then I noticed he was making the sign of the cross, which seemed a bit odd, so I thought I'd better look it up in my Parachutist's Big Book of Signals. I opened my backpack, and to my great surprise a load of multicoloured silk burst out. 'Oh bugger,' I said to myself, 'I must have picked up somebody else's backpack by mistake.' Then I hit a snowdrift."

"The camera's a complete write-off, according to my X-rays," he added. "I reckon my stupid so-called mate owes me a bit more than an apology."

Banned On The Run

The London Marathon has been detained by riot police, who have once more unleashed their controversial 'kettling' tactics against the 35,000 runners. The entire field is reported to be confined in a hundred-metre section of the Embankment.

"A large body of people, representing a variety of dubious causes, was running in a disorderly fashion in the direction of the Houses of Parliament," Metropolitan Police Commissioner Sir Paul Jong-Stephenson told a hastily-convened press conference. "Obviously these people are highly organised, and have been disrupting traffic all over London. We also have reason to believe that they were intending to mount a mass charge in the direction of Buckingham Palace itself."

"Some of the participants are well-known to us, thanks to top-notch intelligence work," he revealed. "For instance, the notorious Paula Radcliffe has a history of urinating in public places and, in an operation carefully planned by Bob Slow prior to his tragic decision to spend more time with his pension, an undercover officer took her out before the event with a well-aimed truncheon blow to the toe."

"We have also observed several likely terrorists attempting to disguise their identities," added Sir Paul. "Let me assure the British public that capturing the Mr Men, Spongebob Squarepants and a large rubber chicken is our top priority."

The press conference then broke up in confusion, as specially-trained riot teams moved in to arrest everybody with a camera for the crime of photographing a police officer.

Phelps Signs Sponsorship Deal With Entire Food Industry

Michael Phelps, the top-scoring athlete from the Beijing Olympic Games, has signed the largest sponsorship deal in history, ecstatic marketing executives revealed today.

The swimming star, who carried away eight gold medals, can thank his four-million-calorie diet for the unprecedented corporate attention.

“Michael’s big pointy chin will fill the advertising breaks of television stations across the entire world,” grinned a coke-sniffer in a suit. “A typical advertising break might consist of Michael extolling the virtues of Warburton’s Super-Thick, Three-Slice-per-Loaf Toastie Bread, then slurping down a Bucket Noodle, munching his way through an entire 12-pack of Walkers lard-flavoured crisps and biting a sizeable chunk out of a freshly-slaughtered slab of prime beef before downing a jerrycan of Red Bull’s godawful new pretend-Cola in one.”

“Eat, sleep and swim, that’s all I can do,” beamed the 23-year-old sporting phenomenon, before deafening everyone in earshot with a 150-decibel burp which lasted for a full minute.

08.08.08 State

The few remaining members of the human race with a natural resistance to sport were said to still be laughing now, after hearing this morning’s widely-reported announcement that an estimated four billion people would be watching the opening ceremony of the Beijing Olympic Games today.

“With an estimated global population of just under 6.7bn, that would mean that six out of every ten people on Earth are currently glued to their TV screens watching a load of athletes poncing about in a queue,” said the solitary BBC reporter who was left behind to man the Television Centre newsroom for a fortnight. “Of course they are. Nobody’s working, or sleeping, or struggling to eke out a marginal existence in some godforsaken corner of the earth, are they? Welcome to the world of media hype, ladies and gentlemen - I’m afraid it’s going to be like this for the next couple of weeks.”

Combatants on all sides, in conflicts all over the world, lay down their weapons and gathered together around the nearest TV screen or mobile phone to stare slack-jawed at the tacky spectacle of gaudy medal-chasers prancing around the Beijing stadium.

Meanwhile, forty million drooling, Olympic-addicted viewers in the UK said they were rabidly looking forward to a relentless 24-hour diet of sheepdog trials, fly fishing, deep-sea diving, street brawling, cheese rolling, worm charming, tiddlywinks, World of Warcraft and countless other non-events where British competitors might be in with a passing chance of earning a gong of some kind, or at least not trip over their shoelaces.

The few people who find themselves totally unmoved by the $40bn extravaganza are said to be planning a small get-together, deep in a cave on some remote island.

Later, on their way back to their respective countries after the opening ceremony, the world’s politicians will no doubt be looking forward to two weeks in which they could cheerfully throw disabled people into wood-chippers, and nobody would know or care.

Mugabe Hit For Six

Zimbabwe’s presidential limpet, Robert Mugabe, is said to be reconsidering his position in the light of the UK government’s threat to bar his country’s cricket team from playing in England next summer.

“I’ve had to endure an awful lot of name-calling lately over my relentless intimidation of the opposition,” said Mr Mugabe, “Not to mention my lamentable mismanagement of the Zimbabwean economy. However, by bravely announcing this ban on our cricketers, Britain has shown real moral backbone. As if it isn’t enough for us to lose our place in the Twenty20 World Cup, other countries might follow their lead and ban us from participating in the World Scrabble Championships and the Lions’ Club International Stamp Collecting Convention. Perhaps this is God’s way of telling me that it’s time to step down. Words cannot properly express my admiration for this British political master-stroke.”

In a further development, the US has said it will not recognise the result of Friday’s presidential election.

“We’ve got a good track record here,” said a federal spokesman. “If we’d recognised our own presidential election results in 2001, Al Gore might be running the country and not just making slideshows about the environment.”

“Never mind, Robert,” executives of mining conglomerate Anglo-American told the beleaguered president, “We still love you. Here’s £200m for a platinum mine.”