Why we need Iron Maiden for the Olympics

After tackling such unedifying questions as whether a sausage roll can get more fans than an X Factor judge and if Jon Venables should be executed, Facebook users this week threw their collective weight behind getting Iron Maiden to open the 2012 Olympics. The race is on to amass one million supporters and convince organisers that when the curtain goes up, the assembled ranks of athletes, fans and dignitaries should be deafened by the overlords of British heavy metal.

Britain's record at soundtracking sporting events is woeful. The 2002 Commonwealth Games in Manchester ended with – for reasons apparent to absolutely nobody – a Jimmy Cliff and Dave Stewart duet. M People's Heather Small wandered onstage at one point. And when future historians identify when the western world was left in the dust by China, they will look at the end of the 2008 Olympics, when China's jaw-dropping, CGI-enhanced performance was followed by the UK. A rickety, balsa wood bus trundled on, then fell apart like a cheap circus prop. Leona Lewis emerged from the roof to sing Whole Lotta Love while Jimmy Page wobbled around on a hydraulic lift, each of them pretending to have a clue who the other was. It couldn't have been a more poignant metaphor for post-imperial decline if they'd had an old woman dressed as Britannia, ravaged by Alzheimer's and mumbling her way through TS Eliot's The Waste Land ("My people humble people who expect/Nothing").

The 2012 Olympics is Britain's chance to reclaim some glory in front of a global audience. Iron Maiden have a greater international reach than any other British band, having spent their career touring Japan, the former Eastern Bloc, South America and, more recently, India and the Middle East, selling 75m albums in the process. Their sporting track record is also proven: a career-long devotion to West Ham (check Steve Harris's claret-and-blue guitar strap and sweatbands); footballing skills displayed in the Holy Smoke video; Bruce Dickinson's fencing prowess; and their soundtrack to the timeless Daley Thompson Lucozade TV ad. As native east Londoners, they're also an obvious choice.

Maiden's thunderous, militaristic bombast is exactly what a spectacle of this kind requires. Without Maiden, it's JLS pulling their shirts up while Clare Balding dances with Mr Blobby. If Maiden open the Olympics, the whole world will be united under a ragged Union Jack and Britain's international reputation will be restored. All this while a giant zombie mascot shoots flames out of his eyes and lurches towards a terrified Sebastian Coe, who cries like a girl. Come on, let's make it happen.