Wham Bam Thank You George Michael

I was still very sleepy while watching the London Olympics Closing Ceremony this morning, but here's a review of the bits I can remember. I turned on the tele a few minutes after it started and saw a woman singing who I thought was Adele, but it wasn't. Then the guy from Auf Wiedersehen Pet popped out of something pretending to be Winston Churchill, while Stomp stomped and banged rubbish bins. It was only then that I noticed that the stage was in the shape of the Union Jack and everything was covered in big newspapers before the kettle whistled, so I missed most of Madness. They were singing 'Our House'. I wished they were doing 'Baggy Trousers', because I quite like that song, but everybody in the Olympics wore incredibly tight trousers so it probably wasn't appropriate. Then the Pet Shop boys came on dressed as black cones and Neil Tennant sang 'West End Girls' while Andrew Ridgely played the keyboard because George Michael didn't want anything to do with him. Actually before that there were some young boys on the back of a truck who I think were a Harry Potter themed boy-band called Wand Erection, although I was waiting for my toast to pop and not concentrating so they may have been the Spice Girls.

Then the Olympics DJ played a bit of a Beatles song because Paul McCartney was disqualified from singing it after fluffing the start to 'Hey Jude' at the Opening Ceremony. Ray Davies sang 'Waterloo Sunset' while everybody else was dressed as ABBA and dancing to 'Waterloo'. Adele sang again but it wasn't Adele. I smeared some of Dick Smith's Magnificent Australian Grown Honey, a "specially prepared premium blend by Dick Smith", on my toast and it was indeed magnificent. I thought Dick Smith only made do-it-yourself crystal sets and flew around the world in his helicopter, but trust me, his honey is to die for.

All the athletes came in with their iPhones and iPads as the official Olympic Worldwide partner Samsung sang the blues. Elbow sang two lovely songs while Eddie McGuire and some woman spouted incessant crap all over them. I really don't like Eddie McGuire. I've never met him but I know if I did I wouldn't take to him at all. He's like a cross between Paul Henry, Mike Hosking and a pooh, and I don't like any of them. For high performance athletes they were all moving very slowly, so the Olympics DJ had to play all the songs we'd already heard and ruined the magic by revealing lots of Milli Vanilli lipsynching had been going on behind our backs.

That's right, a brass beefeater band banged out Blur's 'Parklife' at some point, but Blur were too busy banging out 'Parklife' in Hyde Park to be there. This remined me a lot of hearing Andrew Causer play 'Funky Town' on a clarinet during fourth form music class. Some songs should never be played on wind instruments. 'Parklife' is one of them.

I'd heard a rumour that Kate Bush was going to sing, but alas, it turned out to be just that. The Olympics DJ did play 'Running Up That Hill' and for a second I was terrified the whiny nasal lead singer of Placebo was going to sing it, but thankfully he didn't. Lots of people built a tower out of boxes. Eddie McGuire said each box represented an Olympic event but I didn't believe him. He also kept blethering on about how, 'just one year ago London was on fire from race riots and the race riots were setting London on fire and the Olympics have solved the race riots and put the fire out because there were race riots a year ago and isn't it amazing how just one year later there's no race riots and everyone who could afford the thousand pound ticket to be here was having a fabulous time, no matter what race they were and nobody was rioting and there were no fires, except the Olympic flame, but that's meant to be there and...oooh look, there's an Australian athlete texting.'

Yoko remastered 'Imagine' and let us see some footage of John she'd kept in her closet for years as lots of people made John's face. Then George Michael turned up. Now, I love George Michael. I've got Wham's greatest hits on vinyl and follow him on Twitter and everything. I've even blogged about him. He nearly died in Austria so full credit to him for putting in the hard yards and making a good fist of 'Freedom '90'. The Olympics Audiovisual monitor even projected the word 'FREEDOM' onto the audience so everyone could sing along. I think because George hadn't been on stage for a while the occasion got the better of him and instead of going for a lie down he let rip with his new single 'White Light'. George wrote and sang 'Careless Whisper', one of the best songs ever with one of the best lyrics ever, 'guilty feet have got no rhythm'. Unfortunately 'White Light' is no 'Careless Whisper', and half way through George was obviously feeling guilty and started dancing unrhythmically. Like this.

Then he got all 'Walk Like An Egyptian' on it.

Then I couldn't take anymore and went to the loo.

When I came out there was a young man singing an old song on a Vespa. I was scared Sting might appear 'cos he was in Quadrophenia, but he was too busy making sure his orchestra was bigger than George's. Then the Olympics DJ played some David Bowie, but Bowie was a no-goey, so they got Kate Moss in as a last minute replacement. Kate appears in George's 'White Light' video, but after seeing George's dance moves wisely left him to his own devices. Annie Lennox or Bjork sang a song on a pirate ship and then Prince Harry sang 'Wish You Were Here' while George Michael tried to slip unnoticed out of the stadium on a tight-rope.

By now I was losing interest and stroking the cat. Russell Brand did something odd while some odd old guy pretended to play a Gemini CD Mixer in a big octopus. A woman sang, "It's not about the money money money", while being driven round and round in a Rolls Royce, and The Spice Girls sang, "La La La La La La La La La, La La La La La La La, La La La La La La La La La, La La La La La La La", on the top of some Priscillaed up black cabs. The guy with the really nasal voice from Placebo finally appeared and did a passable Liam Gallagher impersonation, before Eric Idle got everyone singing 'Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life'. This was so far the musical highlight of the evening, although it was quickly topped by the genius idea of projecting Freddie Mercury having an 80's Wembley sing-star battle with the crowd. This bit was genuinely moving, and proved beyond doubt that even though he's been dead for 20 years, nobody can work a stadium like Farrokh Bulsara. They even slipped in the 'fuck you' at the end I think. Here's the full video if you're interested.

Great stuff! On the home stretch now. I think I've forgotten Muse but who cares. Brian May had gone very Grey and wore a jacket with badgers and corgis on it. There were some speeches, Boris waved a flag, some guy who looked like a vampire said 'well done', the Brazilians danced and swept and then a Robbie-less Take That sang the Olympic flame into submission. The Real Who sang 'My Generation' and 'Baba O'Riley', which was great. I wished they'd done this one though. What a tune.

And then, with a billion quids worth of fireworks it was all over. Well done London. Well done Dick Smith. Well done everyone.

I Flu Jetstar

My body is a wonderland the harborer of a governmentally approved chronic illness, so I'm entitled to a complimentary flu vaccination every year. I always feel a little smug when I go to get my steroids to inhale, snort and smear, and end up getting injected with a nearly dead pathogen for free. It's not as good as being a member of the Koru Club, but pretty close. The doctor always tells me to wait for 15 minutes just in case I turn into a fly, however I usually loiter longer to parade my free wee white plaster on my shoulder to those poor unfortunates who aren't blessed with a chronic illness.

My free flu jab has kept me flu free for as long as I can remember. Until this year. This year I may as well have been injected with the tears of a honeybee for all the good it did. I didn't help myself by flying Jetstar return to Sydney either. Jetstar didn't help me, or the honeybee, by cancelling the flight and rescheduling me onto an international flight...to Sydney...from Melbourne, without telling me that I'd have to go through customs and would require a passport. To go from Melbourne. To Sydney. The orange Jetstar lady in the orange Jetstar uniform laughed at my New Zealand drivers license, and in desperation I began yanking out any Australian card I had in my wallet; my Commonwealth Bank Debit Card, my Myki, my Yarra Libraries Your Library Membership card, my Woolworths Everyday Rewards card, my Ikea Family card entitling me to free coffee and meatballs without needing to make a purchase, and finally my Medicare card. The orange lady stopped cackling, snatched my Medicare card, and scuttled off for what seemed like an eternity. A Jetstar eternity equals seven human eternities so it was a really long eternity. She returned and said, "Yeah, well, ya might make it thru love, I dunno really, give it a crack, it works for kids sometimes." The man at passport control looked very dubious about the whole sordid affair. His hand hovered over his stamp while I pretended to be a seven year old boy and wet myself. "Fair enough," he finally said, and stamped me through. I celebrated by doing a Jetstar jump when I got to Sydney in my Australian bikini.

What a palava. New Zealand invented the pavlova. I couldn't even buy any duty free. The plane was like one of those scenes near the end of a contagion film like Contagion, where everyone is miserable and coughing and wishing they were dead and not flying Jetstar. The coughs of a million budget airline passengers recirculated through the fetid air into my chronically ill lungs, and within days my free vaccination waved a white blood cell and gave up the fight.

My big mistake was getting the jab in New Zealand. This protected me from the NZ flu, but in hindsight didn't stand a chance against the infinitely more confident, aggressive and larakinish Australian strain. The NZ flu is an understated, self-deprecatory one that has a good crack at you, but doesn't want to cause too much puss. The Aussie strain screams 'Oi, Oi Oi!', smashes you in the head, drinks all your fluids and shits itself in your lungs. Its speed and tenacity were terrifying. I was in bed for a day and a half and spent the rest of the week trying to evacuate snot and phlegm on the minute every minute. I've been coughing like a Jetstar passenger for weeks, although I can now scull a whole bottle of Robitussen while suppositing Neurofen Zavance, so it wasn't a complete waste of time.

It also gave me a good excuse to watch some Olympics. None of my opening ceremony predictions were correct, however I was very pleased to see some Chinese, Korean and Indonesian women had a good crack at BADminton before they all got kicked out. It's been interesting living in a different country while the games are on to monitor the mood of the populous as their athletes get second. This picture sums up the difference between here and the homeland rather well.

Created by clever Jonathan Louis Fox.

I'm just hoping New Zealand wins a second gold before Australia does to put us ahead on the medals table. It will probably mean they shut their borders and deport us all, but it'll be worth it.