It's just '10 Predictions for the Olympic Closing Ceremony'
The whole opening ceremony will be repeated, in its entirety, but in reverse.
Serge Gainsbourg and a rabble of small children (dressed as him) will perform the Cristian Dior ‘J’adore’ perfume advert soundtrack, whipping the French nation into a vitriolic rage. The performance will be repeated until Serge Gainsbourg expires from shame. This is expected to be long before the end of the ceremony.
In a fit of drunken bravado, Macron will call out for ‘the biggest bastard for me to fight’, assumedly directed at Le Pen, however video footage would later debunk this claim, showing instead, the French President in a field crying at cattle.
The Polluted Seine is revealed to have been a scientific experiment to see whether pumping humans full of discarded pieces of other humans (fecal matter, vomit etc), would encourage increased muscle mass and hyper focus. The practise (known as Doubling Up) first became widely used in Hollywood, with many proponents swearing they now have a deeper knowledge of the connected world (an increased awareness of door hinges, an ability to hear the brand of wood glue used in birdhouses and the ability to sense the contents of their own bodies - which 100% of the time, is complete shit).
Reverse in but, entirety it’s in, repeated be will ceremony opening whole the.
A 40ft tall accordian-playing baguette, eating a beret and cycling along cobbled cigarettes in the rain smoking a bottle of very expensive Bordeaux, collapses into itself as the world watches the concentrated French-ness enter abstract form, destroying itself in a final, satisfied ‘pop’. The only indication of past events is a faint memory of something a little bit xenophobic and a warm whiff of pastry.
An ancient scroll will be revealed to have been hidden in the Olympic flame all along, containing the first clue in a series of increasingly perplexing puzzles, involving trap doors, old, old wooden ships, a giant rolling stone and the tragic deaths of multiple participants. This will be televised as ‘Squid Game Part Deux - Olympic Challenge’ and will run for 4 seasons. This will be mandatory viewing for anyone who claims ‘To, like, even care about sports or whatever’.
Absolute. Complete. Silence.
For as long you decide. Rest your eyes, and drift into a state of utter tranquility. This is the ceremony you’ve been waiting for, your whole life..
After having such an impact on the opening ceremony, the metal band Gojira will pen a love letter to the Olympics, written only in chord formations, released only on audiobook, and narrated by a growling AI composite of Jane Austen.
One lone guillotine arises from the Seine, a single spotlight lighting it from above. It stays there for one week and a brass plaque in front will display the following words from Rudyard Kipling - in Comic Sans.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings—nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run—
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!