With my running shoes through Old Sydney Town. Or, "Hello, my name is Damian."

[Sweder]

We're thinking a 30 minute demonstration of fox-hunting, ending with the hunted fox being caught, set alight and the dying creature then being herded into the cauldron to light the Olympic flame, whereupon convicts then serve out BBQ'd fox meat to the assembled gentry.

Why would Aussies play a part in the 2012 opening ceremony?

It's all good fun. Team GB (as they've become known since a certain Gordon Brown insisted on it) have exceeded our (admittedly pretty low) expectations. Its all given the country a huge lift just as we stand on the cusp of what seems to be an inevitable recession. At least we will be in recession so long as the bloody media keep telling us we're having one.

The 2012 OC has been the subject of much mirthful speculation. No question we can't (and should not try to) match Beijing's automated, here's-one-I-prepared-earlier perfection. Some wags have suggested we have a team of striking dustmen tip trash all over the half-finished stadium whilst synchronised hoodies rob and them stab them. Judged on the evidence of our eight minute stint at the closing jamboree today it'll be 'funky'. Jimmy Page thrashing out Whole Lotta Love off the top of a bus was a nice touch. I for one was relieved we didn't ask Beckham to hit anything more definate than 'the crowd' with his ceremonial kick. I had visions of him slipping, hacking the ball into Leona Lewis's face before glaring at an imaginary divot in the bus roof . . .