Fireworks

At this moment, my peaceful Sunday evening is being torn apart by the fireworks from the Commonwealth Games' closing ceremony. I have a great view of the fireworks from my apartment window, if you're into that kind of thing, which I'm not . . .

As I continue to write, the fireworks have ended to be replaced by the serene echoes of car alarms and a chorus of barking dogs.

My American readers may have never even heard of the Commonwealth Games. The Games are a large sports festival, with almost all of the sports included in the Olympics (plus a few eccentric add-ons like netball, lawn bowls and rugby sevens). This giant festival is an opportunity for the 54 or so former members of the British Empire to celebrate their shared history of subjugation. (Just in case you think I'm being facetious, the games were formerly known as the Empire Games.)

From an Australian perspective the Games are nauseating. It's just like the Olympics except no other country that's good at sport gets to come. This means that Australia dominates the Commonwealth Games like a 80 kilogram bully who's been kept back twice in school. If you don't believe me, look at the final medal tally.