Seriously. This reads like one of the lighter hearted interludes in Suetonious. As I write, Boris is reading to an audienceof VIPs an Olympic poem specially written in school of Pindar classical Greek. It contains coy allusions to the man himself. When it ends, a couple of brawny guys in skirts will behead the unfortunate who stops clapping first.
If this was Ken he'd be reading in a high, nasal voice from a list of amended bus timetables, which in the curcumstances would be a lot more useful.