It was the scam of the century. For months, years even, during the run up to the London Olympics, every man and his dog was worried that the sporting event would crash and burn with the flaming wreckage clogging up the transport links for the rest of recorded time. Not that anyone was being melodramatic or anything. The higher ups took notice of the simmering panic and decided that action had to be taken.
Rather than going through the hassle and irritation of having to go to the bother of outright cancelling the games, a certain deal was struck. Every single competing athlete was whisked off on a fleet of private jets to a secret underground location where the actual factual 2012 Olympics games were held in ultra-exclusive style.
However, the ticket holders and television viewers of the world would hardly be satisfied with such a set up. The globe was lying in wait for a show. It really absolutely had to go on. Because of some plot. The management consultants were brought, provided with flipcharts and highlighters, and sent away in disgrace. A think tank exploded with the sheer pressure of trying to devise an acceptable solution to the sticky mess.
In the end, beautifully simple answer presented itself. People kicked themselves (requiring a surprising amount of first aid attention) for not seeing it sooner. Actors. Get a bunch of them in, train them a little and make sure that the only ones that appear are of the gloriously svelte variety. This way it can be sped up on the telly to be made even more impressive. The announcers practised for weeks on end in order to get the timing right. Claire Balding eventually had to be put on medication.
So there you go, the greatest event in modern British history was a complete a total fix. Rather fitting when you really think about it.