Of course we can't beat the Chinese...

Well. No. Not in, you know, whatever it may be: in the conventional sense, no. But in our own idiosyncratic way! Yes We Can! As President Obama would say!

Ha Ha Ha! Very clever! Yes We Can!

Seriously — I think we'll put on a fabulous show! I can't wait!

Are you going to be watching?

Ooh gosh, no. Are you?

Oh, no.

Impossible to get tickets, apparently...

So I heard...

Nigel says that there's bound to be loads knocking around at the bank closer to the time.

Yes, but...you know...

Exactly...B-O-R-I-N-G!

In any case we've let out the house. For a fortune, I may say —

Clever you! I've been meaning to get round to it for ages...Jeremy says we're within reach of some event or other. God knows — I couldn't care less. But apparently, if you've got a nice house there's an absolute mint to be screwed out of some idiot somewhere!

Well...it seemed madness not to. The city's going to be packed. Millions of tourists everywhere, cramming on to the tube.

Assuming they're not on strike!

Quite! And ghastly self-important officials zooming around in their limousines.

Or in Lycra gym pants.

Please!

So — you know — good luck to Sebastian Coe and all that.

Absolutely.

But we're spending the whole month in Sardinia...thanks to him. God bless the Olympics!

Bring on the World Cup!

Hear, hear! And God Save the Queen and all that!

Whatever!