The arena is in total darkness as the audience tremble in anticipation. In the distance they can just about make out the low "boom-boom-boom" of an in-stolen-car monster stereo system, blasting out "Yo! MuthaFucka!". The lights start to come on and the assembled crowd is greeted with the sight of one e-n-o-r-m-o-u-s council estate called *Olympic Heights*. Several houses are boarded up, a couple are on fire, and two maisonettes are getting their front doors smashed in by a load of policemen who have just jumped out of several *Avis Car Rental* Transitvans. There is a crowd of happy children (and their mums) standing in the garden of one particular council propertythat has the words *PAEDO SCUM* daubed on the walls and windows. The windows do not have curtains - buta manky assortment of duvet covers hanging from them - which do little to protect the unfortunate occupant from the barrage of verbal abuse, bricks and petrol bombs.Further along the street in a cul-de-sac called *Jihad Crescent* a toddler is screaming pathetically as two Pit Bulls nibble happily on his pushchair (stolen from Mothercare) and his tiny little trainers (nicked from Matalan). Several topped up wheelie-bins are burning furiously on the pavement and another group of childrenare attempting to stop the fire brigade attending by lobbing empty White Lightning cider bottles at the fire engines. The distant booming of the stolen car becomes even louder as a jet black Honda Civic roars along theroad, does a couple of handbrake turns before ploughing into an already vandalised bus shelter. The driver leapsout of the car and he's lit up by the spotlight of a police helicopter which is playing "The ride of the Valkyries" through its onboard loudspeakers. A troupe of female dancers, dressed as heavily pregnant Iranian teenagers commence a dance routine set to Kylie Minogues *Can't get you outa my head* - and they boogie along the road, narrowly avoiding two other dancers acting as rival Ice Cream van traders, who are attempting to stab each other to death in a furious Ice Cream pitch war. Suddenly, all along the right-hand side of the street, therecan be heard the sound of shouting, yelling and screaming. In perfect synchronisation, fat blokes in vests appear at each bedroom window and they chuck 72 inch flat screen televisions out into the street. The televisions plummet to the pavement and they all explode in a glorious and perfectly harmonised shower of pyrotechnic wonder.Another line of dancers appear and proceed to moonwalk along the street, snapping every car wing mirror off everycar that's parked there...they are closely followed by another actor, dressed in a "fat-suit", driving a mobility scooter who adds insult to injury by slashing all the car tyres as he rolls along. The tempo of the music increases as the Olympic Opening Ceremony approaches it astounding climax. As the street lights dim (because some kid witha tag on his leg is shooting at them from his bedroom window with a .22 rifle)........an aura of expectation grasps the audience by its collective throat.Without warning - two full-size council houses explode because their occupants decided to by-pass the gas meter and try to get it for free. Bricks, slates, glass, furniture and whats left of cannabis factories they had in their attics fly through the air. Rockets, bangers and a million fireworks explode everywhere and stuntmen dressed as small children, illegal immigrants, old people and a woman called "Chavina" run around on fire as teenagers in baseball caps record the carnage on their HTC Wildfire mobile phones for uploading to YouTube later on. The background music fades away and all that can be heard is the sound of the police helicopter searching for the car thief, the wail of sirens on police cars and fire engines and then..........on one of the council properties (a semi-detached with a garden full of broken Ford Mexicos on piles of bricks)...a garage door opens, and a Grunge Metal Rock Band called *Eat shit, have a heart attack - and DIE!* start up a Grunge Rock version of the National Anthem,which is suddenly cut short by the arrival of a bloke who has just lost his job as a taxi driver, armed with a sawn-off shotgun who commences to blow various peoples heads off as our last winning entry in the Eurovision Song Contest plays in the background. A great white ball of light appears in the sky and Sir Terry Wogan (dressed as an angel) descends into the apocalyptic scenes below....dangling in a safety harness from the bottom of a helicopter piloted by Noel Edmonds. As the crazed masses see this God-like apparition descending, they all see the light, start to hug each other and promise faithfully never to claim illegal benefits ever again and force all their under-aged pregnant daughters and step-step-step daughters to all go and have abortions thereby not being a drain on society.That great British personality, Sir Rolf Harris appears on a stage that is raised up on hydraulic jacks, an enormous*Green Screen* behind him lights up, and computer generated images of Morcambe and Wise, Harry Seacombe and the cast of "It 'aint half hot mum!" all burst into a rousing chorus of "Rule Britannia" and everyone claps and cheers. Hooray! Let the games begin!