Diary, let it be said, is most unhappy with the iniquitous system of ticket allocation for next year's Olympics.
It goes without saying that the Visa fairy has not stripped our bank accounts of the equivalent of two year's salary for the untrammelled delights of a languid afternoon's beach volleyball in Horse-guards Parade. Since this is one race to the bottom which even Diary could not win, our allegiance and affections transfer from the sweaty tumult of track and field to the sedate and refined arena that is the Cultural Olympiad.
