“You’re the wires guy, right?” Boris assumes security has been heightened in light of his last adventure. Image: SEAN DEMPSEY/AFP/GettyImages.

It’s all over, people, and you can now expect the UK to drift back into the familiar territory of self-hatred and celebrity lovin’ superciliousness we know and the Daily Mail loves.

Let’s just have one more round-up to remember it by, shall we?

Indie hair. You’re doin’ it wrong. Image:  Paul Gilham/Getty Images.

Best Haircut of the Games for me would be this variation on what is known in Ukraine as the Khokhol, or Cossack hair. Boxer Oleksandr Usyk (l) pulled off an outstanding attempt at this tough, but effective ‘do, balancing ‘menacing Bond villain’ with ‘slightly unhinged indie band frontman’ like a pro.

Unfortunately, his colleague Denys Berinchyk’s effort wilted before the medal ceremony got into full swing, and ended up looking like he was wearing was left of Bobby Charlton’s combover before Charlton finally gave in and retired it.

As a nation, we can only hope that Mario Balotelli was busy blowing shit up this weekend or we can look forward to seeing this in his portfolio very soon.

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Anywhere but here. Image: LEON NEAL/AFP/GettyImages.

Staying with hair, while I fully appreciate and embrace the contribution that Queen have made to the pantheon of British music in the last thirty years, it appears that even Brian May might be wondering if this is the impression we want to leave the world before they slope off to Rio and forget all about us.

Just leave the guy to his badgers, instead of exposing him to the likes of Jessie J in a one-legged spangly catsuit and Russell Brand pretending to be a walrus.

He had enough of that with Freddie.

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Image: Clive Brunskill/Getty Images.

And finally, this post would not be complete without a hat tip to Tania Farah, who not only managed to cope with the excitement of her husband winning gold medals in the 5000m and 10,000m races while pregnant with twins, but kept their excitable daughter happy during the boring bits and found room in her handbag for a renegade flag without smacking anyone (particularly Mo) in the gob.

Honestly, the woman must be a saint.