Yes, yes, the North of England is gasping for a proper look-in after years of neglect from the people pulling the strings in London. I wholeheartedly support any initiative that sends money, infrastructure and opportunity toward underfunded places, people, organisations and communities, but I do think the UK Sport strategic assessment risks being a little small-minded.

England has something uniquely valuable going for it where a future Olympic bid is concerned. We already possess some of the best sporting infrastructure anywhere in the world, spread across towns, cities and regions that can realistically be reached within a single day of travel. In a country as connected and geographically compact as ours, why narrow the Games into another political balancing act when it could become something genuinely national?

A distributed Olympics could bring transport upgrades, tourism, trade and investment to multiple regions while creating the kind of collective optimism Britain briefly experienced during 2012 Summer Olympics.

London is not the epicentre of Britain, despite the tendency of politics, media and business to behave as though it is. Much of what people celebrate about the capital exists elsewhere in the country too, often with less investment, less visibility and fewer opportunities attached to it.

At the same time, pretending London itself has nothing to offer a future Games makes little sense either. The city already possesses Olympic infrastructure, transport links and experience that could reduce costs and pressure elsewhere. Excluding that purely for political optics risks undermining the wider project before it has even begun.

And before everyone starts foaming at the mouth and waving little Union Jacks every time someone says the word “Olympics”, it is probably worth being honest about the legacy of 2012.

Underneath the sparkle, branding and aggressively maintained optimism, many of the deeper promises attached to the Games simply failed to materialise in the way people were led to expect.

Yes, Stratford changed dramatically. Yes, transport improved. Yes, East London saw major redevelopment. Nobody serious is denying that. But beyond the visible transformation came harder questions about displacement, gentrification, long-term community benefit and what exactly remained once the global attention disappeared and the cameras buggered off home.

The stadium itself continues to attract criticism over cost and financial return, while parts of the wider sporting legacy faded from public consciousness far quicker than politicians promised they would. Many communities affected by redevelopment were expected to quietly absorb the consequences while the rest of the country celebrated the spectacle and pretended everything had worked exactly as intended.

Where superficial legacy is concerned, almost every box was ticked. Britain became unbelievably good at selling the visual success of 2012. But for many people living through its consequences, the lasting social promises eventually faded into little more than a watermark at the bottom of local paperwork.

If, for some bizarre reason, the people now discussing another Olympic bid are not already in possession of the full financial and social reality surrounding 2012, then one has to ask why. Surely nobody expected Britain’s biggest modern sporting event to never come up again. How dare you.

Here are some of the numbers.

Estimated cost during bid stages: roughly £2.4bn–£4bn.
Final public cost: approximately £8.8bn–£9.3bn.

Construction and delivery workforce: approximately 177,000 job-years supported.

Official competition venues used: around 30 venues across London and the wider UK.

Permanent major venues retained and still operating: London Stadium, the Aquatics Centre, Velodrome, Copper Box Arena, Lee Valley facilities and multiple venues across Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park.

Temporary venues dismantled post-Games: several, including the Basketball Arena and Water Polo Arena.

And then things become far harder to pin down.

Long-term national sporting participation directly caused by the Games: no universally agreed measurement.
Long-term community wellbeing impact: no singular measurable framework.
National legacy outside London: heavily debated and inconsistently measured.
Social impact on displaced communities: no single long-term public accountability metric.
Financial profitability of all Olympic venues combined: no simple universally accepted figure publicly maintained.

Which is precisely the problem.

Britain can tell you how many tonnes of steel were used, how many seats were installed and how many stations were upgraded. But when it comes to the deeper promises of “legacy”, the metrics suddenly become vague, fragmented and politically elastic.

One minute legacy meant grassroots sport. The next it meant regeneration, tourism, housing, wellbeing, trade or international prestige. The definition seemed to change every five minutes depending on which statistic made things look least embarrassing.

Britain became unbelievably good at selling the visual success of 2012. Holding anybody meaningfully accountable for its deeper social promises proved far more difficult.

And honestly, that feels painfully British.

We have developed a very particular way of approaching politics, industry and public life in this country. Not entirely negative, but often overly cautious, painfully short-term and far too willing to settle for managed decline dressed up as pragmatism.

“Keep Calm and Carry On” once sounded resilient. Now it often feels more like exhausted resignation masquerading as national character.

There is a deep exhaustion running through Britain now. People are tired of stagnation, tired of empty promises and tired of quietly enduring systems that plainly are not working well enough anymore. Increasing numbers are turning toward parties like Reform UK not necessarily out of love or belief, but because large parts of the country are so fed up with Labour and the Conservatives that they are willing to throw a political brick through the window just to hear the glass smash.

That frustration is no longer simmering quietly beneath the surface. It is becoming politically impossible to ignore.

Which is exactly why a future Olympics could become something far bigger than sport.

A project on that scale would be almost impossible to quietly sweep under the carpet or deliver half-heartedly without scrutiny. If approached properly, a genuinely national Olympics built around measurable targets, long-term accountability and actual future-proofing could become a rare opportunity to force serious investment, coordination and transparency across the country.

Combined with major developments already underway, including the planned Universal Studios Great Britain resort in Bedfordshire, Britain suddenly finds itself staring at a potentially transformative period for tourism, infrastructure and international visibility.

But that opportunity cuts both ways.

Because if another Olympic bid is agreed, the scrutiny surrounding it will be unlike anything seen in 2012. People are more sceptical now. Less patient. Less willing to accept vague promises, political branding and carefully managed optimism without demanding evidence underneath it.

And rightly so.

The country does need a shake-up. Providing we do not approach another Olympics the same way Britain approached parts of 2012, this could genuinely become transformative for all aspects of British life.

Not because sport magically fixes everything. It doesn’t.

But because a national-scale project with properly measurable outcomes and genuine accountability attached to it would force Britain to finally decide whether it still believes in long-term ambition, or whether we are content endlessly rebranding survival as success.

Because this time, people will still be watching long after the closing ceremony ends.