Last week it was widely reported that McDonald’s are set to become more tightly entwined in London 2012 than a pair of tactile Greco-Roman wrestlers playing drunken twister. Most notably – in a scene ominously reminiscent of the Independence Day blockbuster – the McDonald’s brand will be perched over the Olympic Park with a monolithic mothership – the largest McDonald’s ever built – and flanked by three more greasy assailants.

Next summer hundreds of thousands of digestive systems will be harassed to belching point by at least half a million fast-food meals on the East London campus. At what price? Well, literally nothing for some.

Remarkably, one of the four outlets has been built exclusively for the Athletes Village; it will be open 24/7 and will be free of charge – yes, an all-you-can-guzzle carnival of cholesterol laid on a polystyrene plate for the planet’s most lycra-savvy humans on earth.

Like a professor headlining the Glastonbury Pyramid stage with a lecture on the merits of nuclear power, this development feels slightly out of place. We can assume that athletes will have the discipline to ‘just say no’, but I don’t care who you are: a free Big Mac at 3am to calm pre-competition nerves will be tough to turn down.

If only burly Olympics bridesmaid Steve Backley had this calming incentive back in his day the chances are big Backley would have snaffled a gold and got arrested for impaling a spectator with his 160 yard world record-winning throw.

Condemning this temptation would be made much easier if it wasn’t for Usain Bolt and his old “I just ate chicken nuggets before the Olympic final’” shtick. For me there will always be an asterix against Bolt’s Beijing Olympics win in the history books: Usain Bolt – fastest man in the world *to have run on a diet of chicken nuggets.

What price on a gold medal-winning Jessica Ennis gleefully revealing that: “Wolfing down that large fries with Daley Thompson saw me over the line.’’  Odds on, I reckon.

It will certainly be interesting to see if a cunning employee leaks out news of the chain’s frequent customers. After all, knowing whether Tom Daley splashes his chips in barbecue or ketchup sauce is a matter of immediate public interest.

I particularly hope our boxers keep clear (in a sporting sense. I’m not predicting a food poisoning-inflicted skidmark epidemic). Knowing our pugilists’ penchant for being gram-perfect for their weight division, the mere act of walking past Sue Barker nibbling an egg McMuffin might be enough to spell disaster on the scales.

Team GB’s athletes in particular are best to play it safe and stay away. With Charles Van Commenee increasingly resembling a sore-headed bull seeking to gore any complacency, there’s a pretty good chance that hourly urine tests to detect traces of sesame bun will come into force next summer. Anabolic steroids or moreish hashbrowns – the difference is negligible: we want a clean games.

Having a go at McDonalds is an undeniably good sport (and set to replace water-polo at Qatar 2020) but the Golden Arches are more unstoppable than Michael Phelps with a motorboat engine welded on to his buttocks. Along with ageless sprinter Merlene Ottey (who cryogenically freezes her hamstrings between races), McDonalds have been involved in the Olympics for decades.

London 2012 will be it’s ninth successive year as the event’s official restaurant. This begs the question, just how vast will their presence be when the Olympics next returns to British land? (Skegness 2110, Macclesfield 2110 and Falkland Islands 2110 – all intriguing early bids).

Chances are the 2110 games will be called McOlympics, the steeplechase aptly called ‘The McFlurry’ and Merlene Ottey securing gold with a superbly executed apple pie baton exchange in the acclaimed 4x5m One Pound Menu Relay.

The 2110 games will be like the tyrannical 1936 Berlin Olympics all over again – both overshadowed by the thoroughly disturbing clown in charge.