Wimbledon's coming and the threat of rain

Seems set upon returning as I write

And, though an optimist, yet doubts remain:

The R.M.T. are spoiling for a fight,

Combined with public sector strikes. I fear

This summer's not a one we'll long remember

And, as for 2012, another year

Has still to go till I can be a member

Of that mass who'll say, “I told you so!”

When our Olympics are a huge disaster.

Why do we British think we only know

How best to do things, as we hurtle faster

To play our part as clowns on the world's stage?

Do you wonder why I rant and rage?