After all the medal hauls

After all the skilful sculls

After all the bats and balls

After all the oars and hulls


After all the punch and kick

After all the spikes and spokes

The far from jolly hockey stick

After all the streaks and strokes


After all the hands and feet

After all the bars and gates

The coming round, the baking heat

All that stepping to the plate


After all the climbs and twirls

After all the aching joints

The way that every flag unfurls

The marks, the tallies and the points


After broken chains and chins

The ones that didn’t go to script

The ones unsteady on their pins

The fourth-placed and the finely-pipped


After all the sturm und drang

After all the ‘Should we ban them?’

The happy mouths that almost sang

Each very dreadful national anthem


After all the hops and hoops

The ribbon and the balance beams

The goals, the chop blocks and the scoops

The hopes, the heartache and the dreams


After all the pivot, tuck

The pommel, peleton and pike

The penhold, penalty and puck

The smash, the volley and the strike


After all the song and dance

After all the dope and fraud

The scoring where we looked askance

The ticket touting (how we roared!)


After all the algae troubles

After wild cards, making ripples

After all the double doubles

After all the triple triples


After Bolt the Bolt, and Mo

After Wiggo, after Trott

After Biles and after Cho

After Murray, after Scott


Where will we find competition?

Where are brand new thrills to spill?

Maybe Labour’s grand tradition:

Jezza 1 and Owen 0

22 August 2016

The Olympics are over. On with the 'contest'.


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