And they're off...

As I sit here watching the official closing of the London 2012 Olympic Games, I cannot help but wonder what I am going to do with my life when this long and drawn out ceremony finally finishes. I feel like I have eaten, slept and breathed the Olympics for the past two weeks. Including, of course, my fantasies of Tom Daley diving into my eagerly awaiting arms.

As an overview of my highlights of the closing ceremony, I have to say it was quite outstanding to be honest. People were moaning here, there and everywhere within the first five seconds that it wasn't going to be a patch on the opening ceremony.  Quite frankly, it was a given. More than half of the opening of the Olympics was dedicated to watching athletes representing 205 nations stroll along the track, littering flags here and there to trip up their opponents. Admittedly, there was a fair bit of flag waving and strolling in the closing ceremony, but the amount of athletes representing their countries had seriously depleted, which wasn't much of a shock. The real shock lay in the fact that Greece could afford a flag.

The choice of music was... eclectic. It was all going fine until One Direction came skipping onto centre stage. I'm sorry to all you One Direction fans who worship the ground these boys walk on, but putting them on stage in the closing ceremony is like Canada saying; "Hey! Look at us! We're great at Hockey, but here we are showcasing our shameful secret that is Justin Beiber to the world!" Not gonna happen, girls. Ever. We only got an introduction to the Bohemian Rhapsody and we get One Direction songs belted into our bleeding eardrums twice. Urgh. Big mistake, Britain, big mistake.

I loved the fact that we managed to wangle a bit of George Michael into the ceremony, especially after the traumatic year he has had. If anyone, like me, has gone gay clubbing for the evening in Cardiff, then you'll know what I mean when I say that I felt like I had walked into Pulse. Bless him, he had all the ideals that the Olympics promoted; Determination, courage, bravery, doping. You have to have that to stand up in front of the world and sing a crap new song no one want to here. It was the rare 

opportunity for me to agree with my boyfriend who was screaming at George to sing Club Tropicana.

Russell Brand did an alright job, didn't he? Though he is no Gene Wilder. Instead of telling some jokes, he brought his own personal touch of.. madness to the evening. All I'll say on the subject is that his singing can only be compared to Timmy Mallet reading Shakespeare.

To be fair though, the aftermath of Brand was incredible. Who else felt that their childhood's had been relived and summed up all at once when the Spice Girls were singing? My brain wanted to explode in protest to such awesome music. The number plates reading 'Spice', were so creative. I wouldn't have been able to dream that up.

Spice girls on the typical black cabs of London. 

When we think Spice Girls, we immediately associate that little spat they had with Liam Gallagher. Oh Liam... Do the world a favour and ring Noel up. Have a little chat. Invite the dear over for a cuppa or two. Reminisce about the good ol' days when the music industry knew who you were. Have a cry. Have a cuddle. Reform Oasis. That's all I have to say on the matter.

Though when I read that line to my boyfriend, he said he'd rather swan dive into a deep fat fryer than listen to another Oasis album.

Muse - Doing the best impression of Edward Cullen since Gary Glitter

Moving on with the choice of music that makes the rest of the world stop and think, "Did we actually believe this country was great at music and terrible at sport two weeks ago?", Muse took to the stage. What the HELL were they wearing? Look guys, you may have written some songs for the backtracks of the Twilight movies once upon a time, but that gives you no excuse to dress up at Edward Cullen. They're take on 'the dark side' of the Olympics wasn't exactly a tune that could be played when Jessica Ennis won the pentathlon, but there could've been a bit more pomp and circumstance to the affair. It's just the Olympics - no big deal.

Good old Boris made my night though. He threatened the good people of London for ages that he might do something 'crazy' during the ceremony and frankly, he kept to his word. Doing the best version of the truffle shuffle I've seen since watching The Goonies alongside our beloved David Cameron may just well be enough to ensure that we have a Labour government for at least the next fifty years.

BORIS FOR PRESIDENT

Speaking of dancing, who else immediately thought that David Cameron would be absolutely enthralled with the Indian dancing during Eric Idle's performance? Admittedly, I was hoping that the Queen would be blasted out of the cannon to EOL, but dear old Eric is more than enough to make up for that disappointment.

The whole ending that Rio de Janerio performed was alright. After the near miss with Boris waving the flag and potentially repeating 1666, Brazil promised us some samba and a street sweeping dancer. At least it wasn't as bad as our contribution to Beijing. There was also the third worlds version of Will.I.Am, running up an electricity bill with EDF energy at the tax payers benefit. Nice. Surely Duran Duran could've just come on stage and sung Rio to save the time and effort.

On that happy note, I have to say I am quite looking forward to the 2016 Olympics, if we make it past December 22nd this year. Hopefully, team GB will be just as outstanding as they have been in this Olympics, as will the brilliant support they received from the British public. It's safe to say that in years to come, I will proudly tell my children that I watched the London Olympic games. In HD. From the comfort of my sofa, munching popcorn and feeling proud to be British.

For all those who are devastated that they won't be seeing our beloved champion and idol, Mohammed Farah, running until 2016, here's a little something to stop the withdrawal symptoms.

Mofarahrunningawayfromthings