Okay I admit it, I loved the closing ceremony too. I guess somewhere inside my libertarian soul beats a heart that yearns for the spectacle of thousands of brightly colored ‘volunteers’ jumping and dancing around as if their lives depended on it. But I wouldn’t want to live there. I would however very much like to live in London*, until last night. Their unbelievably embarrassing contribution to last night’s festivities has me questioning my anglophilia. Into the middle of this stupendous, vivid and gorgeous spectacle tootled a double-decker bus which opened to reveal an underwhelming and drab little ‘float’ on top of which was the most random assortment of pasty-faced teabags possible. The unifying theme seemed to be ‘Who can look the most awkward’. (Later arrival, David Beckham, is firing his whole management team today I’m guessing.) But the worst bit was watching a white-haired Jimmy Page (whom I adore) plucking out ‘Whole Lotta Love’ (the sound of which was immediately gobbled up by the cavernous venue) to singer Leona Lewis who grew tall and then short again in a weird magical dress… and all the while a baffled young child holding a cello looked on in confusion. The Brits have their work cut out for them.

* site of the 2012 Summer Olympics

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