Dear James, Mitchell, Liesel etc
This is an incredibly hard letter to write but the time has come to end our relationship.
While the phrase “it’s not you, it’s me” is a cliché it is unfortunately the truth in our situtation.
Do not take this as a slight on your actions but during the past 10 days some awkward truths have come to light.
Simply put, our relationship since that glorious fortnight in Sydney has been based on a misunderstanding.
You have spent the past 12 years under the mistaken impression we liked your for your courage and inspiration, that regardless of how you performed you would be loved unconditionally.
This is not the case. We were only in it for the bling. Now we’re not saying we are gold diggers but we’re not messing with the men’s 4x100m medley relay team are we?
If you feel you have been lead on in way, we apologise unreservedly. You have no doubt tried your hardest but your current performances are not satisfying our emotional needs.
That is not to say there has not been genuine passion during our time together. We will always have Athens and Beijing, not to mention that time you surprised us in Salt Lake City.
Before you ask, there is no-one else in the picture. Yes, the Socceroos, Wallabies and various other athletic marsupials have turned out heads but right now we want to be alone.
The unfortunate Nick D’Arcy incident aside, we acknowledge you have always been a mature and respectful partner. That is why we know you will understand when we get drunk and have a rebound fling with whoever wins the Melbourne Cup.
When you return from London it is the best for all involved that a clean break is made. We will leave a spare key underneath the commemorative bust of Cathy Freeman on the front verandah so you can move your stuff while we are at work.
Goodbye and good luck in the basketball quarter finals.
The Australian Public xoxo
PS. You will need to organise your own lift home from the airport. Big Brother starts that night.