I can't stand sport of any sort, so the Olympics mean absolutely bugger-all to me. I shall indeed exercise my prerogative with the TV remote control and ensure, as far as I can, that no sport and as little news of sport as possible appears in front of me for the duration of the games. Luckily, I'm retired from the day job and live on the south coast where I will, hopefully, not be affected by the buggering-up of London streets.

I suppose the dear old Guardian will inevitably have some sports coverage in it - but I'll skip those pages wherever the Olympics appear as far as possible. It's also likely that my local pub will show some sport on its TV, but they usually have the sound down so, if I stand with my back to the screen, I shan't see it with a bit of luck.

As an extra precaution I'm currently doing a rain dance every evening in my back garden, hoping that the jet stream will continue to swirl over the Olympic site(s), and digging up medieval curses and invocations of the blackest kind to spoil the fun. Actually, there's a Carthusian monastery three miles up the road from me - I quite fancy a peaceful month there...