What manner of human toil is this?--
Will would have asked, in the morn,
as he sat glued to the tube,
too overboobed to move,
by all that Olympic porn.
Haven't we amateurs' confessionals,
of Dream Team professionals,
which make folly of this shopkeepers delight?
Oh well, says Will, 'tis a brave new globe,
which zounds! seems wicked disrobed,
and to that he says, good night.