We now know that the Greek Olympics, the hundreds of medallists from which almost no one now remembers, cost €11.6 billion - twice the original budget. This was more than 5 per cent of Greece's gross domestic product, and by itself pushed the Greek budget deficit to 5.3 per cent, nearly double the ceiling allowed by EU rules, writes Kevin Myers
Little Greeks as yet unborn will be paying for this folly with unfilled teeth, classrooms with no roofs, and a school lab which consists of a chemistry set donated by Somalia. The Greeks have probably entered secret talks to sell Thessalonika and Crete to the Turks. And far from claiming the Elgin marbles back again, the Greek government is probably trying to rent them to the British, even as the British are - in all their egotistical insanity - bidding to stage the Games themselves.
Part of me wishes they would win - for we could then buy the Elgin marbles ourselves, not to speak of the Royal Air Force, Tower Bridge and I rather fancy Wales: all those choirs. However, the British might also insist that we take Northern Ireland from them, not least because, with almost the entire population there chronically dependent on massive subventions from 11, Downing Street, the British won't be able to afford it.
Now, the only clever thing that Michael Collins did in the Treaty negotiations was to insist that the British keep those Six Counties: it would be a terrible disservice to his great and glorious name if we undid his towering achievement of bamboozling the British into keeping the dreary steeples of Fermanagh and Tyrone.
So it's clearly in our interest to prevent the British getting the Games by helping bring the Games to an end for once and for all. A good start would be to dissolve our own Olympic Council, exiling Pat Hickey to the Arigna mines for life, and introducing a law rather similar to the British ban on fox-hunting - making it illegal to train or apply for participation in the Olympic Games.
It's not as if we don't have any experience in dodging international contests. After we won the Eurovision Song Contest five times on the trot, we very sensibly embarked upon a policy of losing it, by nominating, in successive years, Father Michael Cleary, Dustin the Turkey, Cardinal Tomás Ó Fiaich, Jackie Healy-Rae and finally, four years ago, on the 25th anniversary of his death, Eamon de Valera. Frankly, he looked a bit off colour, and some of us had trouble hearing him, but the main point was, he didn't win. (Actually, he came second by a point. Thank you, Spain, for those nul points).
We can bring kindred skills to undoing the Olympics, as undone they must be. Economically, they are ruinous - and not just for Greece, which since this column began has also put Leros and Eos on the market - but for everyone with the hubris and the dementedness to want to stage them (i.e., Tony Blair). Sydney, whose games were supposedly successful, is still paying $32 million a year merely to maintain the now chronically under-used stadiums it built for the 2000 Olympics. China is budgeting $23 billion for the games in 2008; that probably won't cover security costs, which in the case of Athens reached €1.39 billion.
This is all madness; and for what? Who remembers who won the women's smooth-bore tobogganing medal, apart from her mother? Who knows now who got the gold in the 200 metres doggy-paddle? Is anyone remotely interested now who triumphed three months ago in the men's downhill knitting, or the ladies' excuse me, or the Gay Gordons? Nobody is. Moreover, the Olympian spirit is dead, poisoned by rancid nationalism, a mounting threat of terrorism and a culture of cheating throughout athletics, swimming and weight-lifting. If you unquestioningly accept world records set in any race under 800 metres, in any strength contest, or in anything in the pool over the past 20 years, then you also probably believe Elvis was abducted by aliens.
Moreover, athletes are now enduring unacceptable and humiliating torments. In a remarkably honest interview a few days ago, Paula Radcliffe described one of the less reported aspects of long-distance running. Physically unable to resist a call of nature during the Athens marathon, she repeatedly (and in full view of the public) moved her bowels as she ran: the trots on the trot. So, it's perhaps not surprising that so many rivals made sure they stayed in front of her - nor all that astonishing either that so few distance-runners wear white shorts any more.
All this - the drugs, the terrorist threat, the economy-wrecking costs, the witless chauvinism, the cynicism, the poo stickily trickling down runners' still-pumping thighs - is now part of the real Olympian spirit of today. The games are now beyond parody - especially for us. Thousands of gold medals have been won in the past 50 years: Ireland has won just two on clear, unchallengeable merit, and only one of these was noticed outside Ireland, even at the time.
It's time to end it all. No more government grants to the Irish Olympic Council, which are largely wasted on dud athletes, officials' egos, trips around the world and silly blazers. The money which is squandered every four years on the Olympian farce would be better spent on school playgrounds and gymnasiums, on promoting football, hurling and camogie, and most of all, getting children away from their wretched computers and PlayStations. Let us be the first nation to walk away from this Olympian farce.