Someone sack whoever made that bell. Then someone sack Jeremy Hunt while you're at it. This morning's hilarious but potentially deadly "flying bellend" scenario during the mass bellringing thingy, I fear, will be the highlight of my Olympics. I fear it will not be beaten by the thrill of golds on track, field and velodrome.
Anyway, I think the incident tells the nation everything we need to know about Hunt: an over-privileged, over-promoted jogger who is trying to re-style himself as an affable Boris Johnson-alike jester. Much as I love a jester, I find it hard to like one who has got away with so much. I have no particularly strong feelings about the BSkyB debacle, but isn't there anyone more intelligent to run the culture department? Someone who could ring a bell without it falling off?
Maybe it's a bluff. Maybe his department planned for the bell to fly away, thus turning Hunt from chancing idiot to loveable Mr Bean? We English love to laugh at ourselves, right?
Anyway, enough of him. But it was funny. Fuck it was funny.
This is the first in a series of "live" Olympics posts that I will be posting over the next two weeks. As a games volunteer, I'm planning to bring my readers the very best pithy observations from the heart of the Olympiad.
Today, I can report three fabulous members of the Nigerian basketball team on the tube, a man in a bright orange office suit and assorted milling loons around the Westfield shopping centre. I also ran into a pleasant young Belgian couple who had cycled from Liege to camp in the Olympic campsite next to my house. £20 per person, per night? To sleep in a field in East London? They've been had.
Anyway, posts will be regular, but short and sweet. And if Jeremy Hunt carries on like this, we're going to have a blast.