Do you remember the fear of chaos in London before the Olympic games? The transport congestion and lack of hotel availability? It was predicted that enormous lines would snake around train stations forcing commuters into a 45-minute wait just to get onto a station platform.
The following is not taken from a reputable news outlet. And there is also an excessive use of bold.
David Cameron is only 45. He leads Ed Miliband as Britain's preferred Prime Minister; and though the Conservatives lag Labour by around ten points in YouGov's daily tracking surveys, their deficit is smaller than normal for governments in mid-term. There seems to be no obvious reason why a vacancy for the Tory leadership should arise any year soon.
I hope the Tory party and the British people will see through his facade. My challenge to Johnson is: why do you put on an affable, unworldly, untidy persona when that is so obviously not who you really are.
It's the end of the first week of the London 2012 Olympics and I've learned two valuable life lessons: first, grown men will fight small children for the chance to sit at the front of the DLR and pretend to be the driver; and second, don't jump up for a full-on Mexican Wave whilst holding a plastic pint glass full of lager.
Over the past few days I've lost count of the number of politicians decrying critics of the Olympics. Labour's newly appointed 'Olympic Legacy Adviser' Tony Blair has returned to one of his favourite themes, declaring war on cynicism.
It is with a heavy heart that I refrain from waxing lyrical about Friday's Olympic opening ceremony. It has been done countless times already by far more qualified writers than me. My comparative lack of lexical flair will only detract from the sentiments I wish to convey.
Just a few hours ago I was all ready to write a piece damning the Olympics Opening Ceremony. I had read the Guardian's guide to watching the coverage and I was suitably apprehensive. The only question was how I was going to execute the slaughter.
So it's Friday 27th July 2012 and, after 7 years of exhausting preparations, London is welcoming the world. For my part, I'm standing at Charing Cros...
To be honest, the Olympics really scare me. And I actually mean it. The thought of the Olympics fills me with nothing but dread and a queasy sense of claustrophobia... Just how bad is it going to get, folks?
I started the Ealing Tweetup three years ago as a meeting where a few local neighbours, who all used Twitter, got together to talk about their online experiences - it was initially no more than a single table of people chatting together.
The place where you can shoot a PKM Machine Gun in the afternoon and sing Aerosmith at a Karaoke Bar at 4am, oh and there's a bit of culture thrown in...
The issue of flexible working continues to be a hot topic. First was the news that Whitehall staff are being asked to work at home over the summer to minimise disruption. Then came Boris Johnson's comment that home working is a "skiver's paradise" and "an excuse for general malingering".
Having been scared half out of my mind last Saturday night when Johnson's voice came booming out of the bus shelter I was sitting in at midnight, I'm probably not the only one looking forward to the Games being over. If nothing else, it should take him off our front pages and back into City Hall or, at the very least, the presenting chair of Have I Got News For You, where you can rely on Ian Hislop to keep him in his place. You yearned to see Hislop pop up in the aforementioned Proctor & Gamble salon with some sharp quip to de-cheese the moment.
The World Pride organisers have made mistakes and must share some of the blame for the current fiasco. However, they are not the sole villains. The Mayor of London, Boris Johnson, could have rescued Pride but has apparently chosen to not do so. The actions and inactions of the Greater London Authority (GLA) have compounded the problems that Pride now faces.
My bike has a new bell. It sounds a bit like a 1950s telephone; ringing loudly and insistently. At every reassuringly annoying 'ding-a-ling', pedestrians decide not to walk out blindly in front of me and even drivers abort unplanned turns. In short, it's fantastic.