Aside from yet another tedious round of Oxbridge bashing, the BBC's new series Young, Bright and On the Right fundamentally misunderstands the nature of our Oxbridge-educated political elite.
Well Boris certainly pulled one out of the bag. Surely the London 2012 Olympic Games will be remembered by many as a games that was participated in by not only the Olympians, but also by the spectators and volunteers.
In truth, the Olympics represent the world coming together. It is the world coming together in a time of crisis, in times of trouble, but coming together nonetheless. I watched in Wembley as people who had never been to Japan or France cheered with all their hearts for a team made up of people that did not speak their language.
Some people have excitedly speculated on the possibility of Johnson becoming PM one day. If he ever makes it to the highest office in the land, I suspect his old world charm will be rapidly evaporated by his instinctive and ruthless elitism. But by then, of course, it will be too late.
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...