So I was cycling to work this week pretending to be Bradley Wiggins – you know, giving myself a running commentary in my head as I skilfully avoided a pothole – only to look down and realise I was riding a folding bike with tiny wheels and wearing a fluorescent tabard.

Fantasy dashed.

But never mind, the Olympics have been good haven’t they?

And, as they are now drawing to a close, here are a few of my own personal highs and lows: High: Wiggo sitting in a throne outside Hampton Court Palace after winning the men’s time trial. Ridiculous but, at the same time, hilarious.

Low: Having to listen to Spandau Ballet’s song Gold on the BBC every time we won a gold medal. I was almost praying Team GB wouldn’t win another medal so I wouldn’t have to hear that musical atrocity again.

The BBC also played Paul Hardcastle’s 19 when we reached 19 medals. A song about American soldiers in the Vietnam war. Words fail me.

High: The ridiculous motorised scooter leading cyclists round the velodrome track ridden by, what seemed to be, a Victorian gentleman. Can he have a long moustache, pipe and monocle next time please?

Low: The amount of times we have to hear to the words “amazing”, “fantastic” and “phenomenal” from athletes and television reporters. Tiresome.

High: A medal for Tweddle. I just like saying those words.

Low: Seeing Chris Evans during my one visit to the Olympic park. I was feeling happy. Then I saw that herbert.

High: Laura Trott’s post-medal interview. The new Stacey Solomon anyone?