How Would You Sum Up The Opening Ceremony Of The Olympic Games London 2012?

Great shows last week kid. The great shows gave Danny Boyle inspiration, as he slaved into mid morning to put on the grand opening for the London, 2012, Olympic Games. I turned to Tommy my cat, who has first class honours degrees in art and basket weaving and said, "Tommy, how would you, a cat with many artistic accomplishments behind you, sum up the opening of the Olympic games?" Tommy, who was painting the windows black to keep direct sunlight from fading the new carpet said, "Well, I do like a good, green, grassy knoll, but I would sum up the opening of the Olympic games as, turgid." I fell back against a Clydesdale horse, which was taking a short cut through my house and cried, "TURGID? "Explain yourself, in any language other than Ulster/Scots, you whiskery feline." Tommy yelled, "Shut that door!" to the horse and continued, "The dictionary defines turgid as, tediously pompous and bombastic. Film director, Danny Boyle, thought he was making a film which would won the Palme D'Or, at the Cannes Film Festival. It was a miss-mash, a cross between the Telly Tubbies and My Fair Lady. And topping it all off with old, wrinkly Paul McCartney, was the final insult. The old fool should have been in his bed." "Well, I loved it!" I roared. "To see the Queen jump from a helicopter, was a real kick up the pants for old codgers everywhere. The big factory chimneys, climbing up into the air, The dancing nurses, David Beckham, Mr Bean! I loved every minute. It was Britain at its finest. Britain is a hard taskmaster, a wily mistress, an errant child. And how proud I was to see our wee Billy, Kenneth Branagh,complete with stove pipe hat, recite a passage from Shakespeare's, King Lear, while dressed as Britain's finest composer of music hall ballads, Isambard Kingdom Brunel, known to his friends as Issy." "I will say this," said Tommy. "It was very well received all over the world AND in the Mexican quarter of Ballymena. I take back what I said," said Tommy. "Danny Boyle, should be made a knight of the realm and a day of the Triffids." I picked up the Newsletter, gave a yelp and cried, "Listen to this! Edwin Poots, MLA, and part time juggler, fired a shotgun into the air to scare off prowlers." "It's all right for some," said Tommy. "When we have prowlers, I have to go to the front door and bark like an alasian." "There's no point in having a cat and barking yourself," I replied. Tommy went outside, kicked a can further down the street, came indoors and said, "How many gold medals have Britain won so far?" "None" I replied. "Good!" said Tommy. "That's a good base to start from. The only way to go is up." "Tubby Nolan should pick up a gold medal in the sumo wrestling," I said. "The way I see it," said Tommy. "The only thing standing between Tubby and a gold medal is a nappy malfunction. If Tubby's nappy should rip asunder, the fat boy will be disqualified on the spot." "Not only that," I said. "Tubby would prove, to a world wide audience, that he is not the biggest in the country." "I never really thought he was," said Tommy. "Not since the night in the hot tub at Noel Thompson's house. What a night that was! Noel was drinking guinness out of Donna Traynor's wellington boot and Sarah Travers was belting out, "My little Honda 50. Edwin Poots, broke up the party at four o'clock by barging in and firing both barrels of a shotgun into the air!"