The Daily Mash presents the story of the Olympics, from its roots in the classical era to becoming a modern-day massive balls up.
The Olympic games were founded in 191 BCE by the Roman pervert emperor Onanus. Held in Onanus’s private frottage garden, naked athletes participated in sex-themed events like the 300m Phallus Relay while the bloated emperor looked on salaciously, lying on a day bed and eating live fish out of a jar like Jabba the Hutt.
The first ever Olympic sponsor, Slaves Direct – which styled itself as the number one mail order slave company – came aboard 12 years later after Onanus fell into heavy debt with his catamite vendor. Slaves Direct paid for the first games arena and introduced non-sexual events such as horse boxing. Specially trained horses would fight dishonoured soldiers, invariably killing them. Pugilus the Olympic battle stallion was eventually honoured with a solid gold nosebag.
The Olympics didn’t happen again for several centuries. There were a few meetings about it but no real enthusiasm.
In 1906 the Olympics was revived in the Welsh region of Barry Island. Stephen Malley, a dairy farmer with a history of psychiatric problems, decided to recreate the event in his porch using beetles as participants and worms as apparatus. Shortly afterwards he was permanently incarcerated but the legend of ‘crazy Steve’s Olympic porch’ was perpetuated by local gossips, and at some point the words ‘porch’ and ‘torch’ became confused.
Hitler held an Olympics in 1936, ostensibly to celebrate the glory of the Reich, although personal documents indicate he just wanted to see the black athlete Jesse Owens in tight shorts.
NASA organised the first Moon Olympics in 1974. Preferable gravity conditions led to a new high jump record of 5,392 feet but Canadian champion Nikki Hollis’s exuberant victory celebrations were cut short by a fractured helmet and subsequent fatal breathing issues.
In 2012, Texan smallholder Lord Sebastian Coe decided to bring the Olympics to London after a series of hallucinatory visions culminated with a poorly-drawn 2012 logo appearing in his field of wheat. Lord Coe immediately left for England with his wife JoBeth and eldest son Cleetus, where he raised the necessary funds through a mixture of sponsorship and selling home-made whiskey. Coe believes that the 2012 games will culminate in the arrival of a spacecraft that will kill everyone he doesn’t like with a heat ray before whisking him off to the planet Altair to live in a luxury bungalow. Watch the skies.