The Olympic Games are over, the Chinese have been officially declared to be improving but still having some way to go with those naughty human rights issues and the Downright Lama, and we now have to wait another four long years to hear the next set of breathless young zombies on drugs talking about some boring aspect of their performance in some daft sporting event or another. Ten metre air rifle? Bitch volleyball? Dancing with a streamer? Frit’s proposal for a new sports discipline to be included in the next games is guessing the chemical composition of the blood of whatever breathless zombie won the previous event. The winner then gets to bottle it and sell it to a hard up African country that can only afford recycled pharmaceuticals.