Another late "Olympic" story

My good friend The Choirboy was complaining to me the other day that he hasn't made an appearance on my blogs "in over a year".  Ah, the vanity of youth!   In fact, his complaint is somewhat exaggerated; a quick search reveals that he was briefly name-checked over on The Barstool just a few weeks ago, and has had at least three other mentions this year, including the surely rather flattering suggestion in my notorious Cast List post that, in a film version of the blog, he should be played by the gorgeous Irish actor Cillian Murphy.  And he was honoured here on Froogville at the tail-end of last year for his momentous victory in the Grand Final of The Bookworm's Professionals' Quiz.   This, however, is a favourite story from a year ago that I have been meaning to add on here for some time, but have somehow never quite got around to.  (Be careful what you wish for, Choirboy!)     My best friend here in Beijing - a rather sporty and roguishly charming young Irishman that we have come know as The Choirboy - managed to break both his wrists on the eve of his birthday last year. Don't practise capoeira when drunk is the lesson we learn from this.   Although this was a moderately amusing story, he was naturally rather shamefaced about telling it, and his friends all soon grew bored of hearing it. So, for a while, we developed a little competition of suggesting more exotic explanations for his incapacity. Our favourite (since this was just after the Olympics) was that he had been Ireland's surprise hope of a gold medal in the men's table tennis, but that the Chinese team - desperate to protect its domination of the competition - had sent the heavies round to sort him out. "Ma Lin says hello."   [I had first recounted this anecdote here, on Tony's Other Men's Flowers blog, last November.]