I’ve lots of skin in this game

I'm sorry I haven't been here to brighten your alternate weeks for a while, but I've been busy pursuing my sporting interests. And what a wonderful summer of sport it has been.

Fans, having paid £1,000 each for black-market tickets to Man United v Barcelona at Wembley, weren't allowed into the stadium until half-time. Instead they were forced to queue in blistering heat, at the mercy of touts selling small bottles of Eau B'Stard at five pounds a pop.

I missed the match, as I was in Monaco explaining to the cream of Formula One why it was in the best interest of their sport and world peace to reinstate the Bahrain Grand Prix into the F-You calendar. I illustrated my argument with a slide show of diamond-encrusted watches.

It was convenient that I was soon in Switzerland to pay in my Bahraini commission cheque at the National Bank of No Questions Asked, as that put me in the right place at the right time for the Fifa election, using that word in its loosest sense. My pal Sepptic Bladder was quite anxious about his chances of a fourth term, as he faced, in Mohamed Bin Hammam, a credible rival candidate - credible in the sense of being equally dubious, but even richer.

Luckily for Sepptic, my Qatari contacts came up with allegations that Bin Hammam had sought to buy votes from usually incorruptible Fifa delegates. And so, Sepptic stood unopposed, rather like Gordon Brown back in the good old days when there used to be a Labour Party.
Depositing my second huge cheque in two days, I hastened back to London for an emergency meeting of the Olympic Games Steering Group. I've kept my involvement in this rather quiet, as I've no desire to undermine my underlings Lord Coe and Boris Johnson. However, my enthusiasm for the Olympics should not be underestimated.

In fact, I invented an entire Olympic sport. It happened by accident. I was on my private Seychelle, with only a half-dozen Brazilian beauty queens for company. After a few days even I started to find their demands excessive, so, one morning, I threw them a beach ball and ordered them outside to make their own amusement. And thus was born beach volleyball. The Olympic movement eagerly embraced my invention,
with only one small change - the wearing of clothes.

The Steering Group meeting had been summoned because the media had belatedly decided that the entire ticket distribution process was a scandal. Not only had applicants been forced to yield control of their credit cards, but their money had been grabbed months before the victims would be told which events they might be allowed to attend.

Answers were swiftly demanded. Who had hijacked London's bid, and subverted the Olympic ideal, simply to generate tens of millions of pounds in confiscatory credit-card commission?I remain your obedient servant, Alan, Lord B'Stard of Malfeasance.

As told to Marks and Gran
Next week: Gideon Donald

This article first appeared in the 13 June 2011 issue of the New Statesman, Rowan Williams guest edit