Rant: What to do with the Dome
26 May 2005 by Paul Davies
Other than providing a picturesque backdrop to the exciting boat-race scene at the start of The World Is Not Enough, the Millennium Dome has been a bigger joke than the politicians that conceived, and consequently threw a mountain of money at, the yellow-spiked monstrosity. When things got especially ropey, they even tried getting a Frenchman in to run it; it didn't work, of course, but he didn't do any worse than Peter Mandelson.Now, however, things are looking up. Anschutz Entertainment Group (AEG) and mobile phone giant O2 have teamed up and bought the thing, planning to turn it into "Europe's finest music venue", and offering rather more than the crap journey into tripe that was the ill-fated Millennium Experience.
As well as a cavernous stage with all the usual accessories, by April 2007 the building, to be renamed the O2, will host all manner of exciting ways to spend an evening. There'll be an 1,800-seat theatre, a club and a handful of cinema screens for starters. It is also hoped that a number of sporting events, such as boxing, tennis and basketball could find themselves a new home in Greenwich.
Unfortunately, it will probably take more than Richard-Burton premieres and Amir Khan to shed the stench given off by the political excrement and disappearing bags of gold that have been festering under the silvery shell.
You could raise John Lennon and George Harrison from the dead, reunite the Beatles and have them joined on stage by a similarly-revived Elvis for an encore of Hey Jude, and still people would be sceptical that anything good could come out of anything previously so bad.
If the Dome is to be successfully rehabilitated and reintegrated into society, it needs something a bit more special to launch its new life.
Luckily there is a solution, and one that could shift much more than the footprint of the world's largest white elephant. I humbly propose that the centrepiece of O2 launch-night be a public hanging. The vast majority of the population, myself included, has never had the fortune of watching such a spectacle, and I'm sure most would relish the opportunity. There's even an array of useful spikes on which to display the head afterwards.
It can't be just anyone though, we're not in the business of making martyrs out of nobodies – we already have Big Brother for that. Besides, this is more political.
There are a number of key contenders, from Mandelson himself to the Ayatollah of Bethnal Green and Bow, 'Gorgeous' George Galloway. However, as much fun as sending Galloway to the gallows might be, he is trumped by scourge of the hooded top and asinine savager of the mother tongue, John 'Ooh, I'm scared' Prescott.
Like the ostentatious homophobia of a repressed homosexual, Prescott attacks his own: the common man. Be it those beastly types who get worked up enough to throw eggs at politicians, or local, politically concerned journalists who foolishly ask the deputy Prime Minister about community issues. Like his grotesque gut, it's just not healthy. Not only that, but having him as our deputy prime minister is more than a little embarrassing and an affront to national pride.
The scope of this scheme doesn't end there. If it proves to be as popular as it undoubtedly will, the event could easily become annual. The public could vote on who to string up next – Kilroy perhaps? Turnout would surely be higher than that of the Westminster elections, and the end result vastly more entertaining. So come on AEG and O2 – for your own, and the greater, good – success is only a snapped neck away.
