Written by David Sapsted
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Saturday, 28 July 2012

SATURDAY, JULY 28: Absolutely exhausted! Had to carry the Jamaican flag halfway round the stadium at the Olympics opening ceremony last night. Never knew that travelling 200 metres could be so exhausting. Poked myself in the groin with the flag pole when I tried, unsuccessfully, to strike my Lightning Bolt pose, as requested by my Canadian sponsors, Lightning Rotors Inc. The Arctic Monkeys performed a great song called Come Together: wish I could meet the guy who wrote it. Later on, some ancient singer with dyed hair sung a song called Hey Judas, which seemed a bit pro-Christian to me given all the different faiths of the athletes there.

SUNDAY, JULY 29: After weeks of worrying about my form, I've finally appointed a new coach whom, I'm assured, knows everything there is to know about dominoes. He's even changed his name to Fats Domino, which is pretty clever since his real name was Slim Domino. Put in several hours' hard practice before some old guy suggested I go running. Running, for Pete's sake, when there are dommy tables beckoning! I told him I had a groin injury. Secured sponsorship deal with Dominoes Pizza. It must be a omen.

MONDAY, JULY 30: Met the Queen and pretended for the TV cameras that I thought she was Nicolas Sarkozy. Well, they're both short. Secured a sponsorship deal with Specsavers on the back of it. They especially liked it when I asked "him" what it was like to be kicked out by the French. She said something about "whipping their froggy bottoms" at Agincourt, which I didn't understand. Later, in private, she beat me at dominoes. Really need to work on my game.

TUESDAY, JULY 31: Visited some place in London on a goodwill visit. Sat in the back of a sponsored BMW, drinking a sponsored Coke, eating a sponsored Big Mac and smoking a sponsored Marlboro. Except one very irate guy with a badge told me Marlboro weren't sponsoring this one, which seemed odd to me. I then had to attend a meet-the-fans event and eat jerk chicken, which I'd never tasted before and is quite revolting. Upset several of the sponsors by asking them where the nearest KFC was: I only got away with it when I explained I meant Kentucky Fried Chateaubriand.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 1: Narrowly beat Yohan during a pretty intense game of dommies in the apartment, but Asafa emerged the overall winner. Yohan said he would get his revenge "on the track", which made me wonder if we were going on a train journey somewhere. The old guy came in again and insisted I went running. What is wrong with this man? Anyway, to pacify him, I went outside and ran just one 100 metres. He seemed to think 8.87 seconds was pretty damned good, which made me wish I'd put a bit of effort into it to really shut him up.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 2: Nobody to play dommies with as both Yohan and Asafa have gone all quiet, saying they are psyching themselves up for "the challenges ahead". Have they entered some big dominoes tournament without telling me, I wonder? So I went for a run and the old guy got really steamed up with my 10.1 seconds for the 100 metres. Reluctantly, I had to promise him that I wouldn't run backwards next time, despite my new sponsorship deal with Parking Dynamics, a British company that makes reversing sensors.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 3: Apparently, I'm running in the 100 metres in the Olympics tomorrow. I do wish someone would have mentioned this earlier. Fats got cross when I told him because he'd fixed up a rematch against the Queen for the same time. In fact, everyone seems very tense and moody: I reckon it's because they're all wondering how the West Indies cricket team are doing in the second Test against New Zealand in Kingston. Some people take sport very seriously. I mean, it's not like it's dominoes.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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