"Why Roger?" I wondered, as I wandered through the Victorian greenhouse splendour of Olympia's Grand Hall, en route for the official launch of the London 2012 mascot range.

But as I neared the centre of the manic maelstrom that is Toy Fair 2011 - it might even have been as I passed the stand featuring that old favourite Paddington Bear - the thought of Roger Black, double Olympic silver medallist, being on hand to promote the cuddliest part of the impending Games seemed strangely appropriate.

Of course. This was the runner who, as a youngster, was affectionately known as Bambi because of the tendency of his long legs to give out on him. Ahhh...

As far as Black is concerned, the twin mascots, which were received with a mixture of approbation and ridicule - about 20 per cent of the former and 80 per cent of the latter - when they were unveiled in May last year have passed the key test.

Never mind the media. These mascots are for the younger generation - and his twin five-year-old boys, who have only the haziest idea of what their Daddy once did in Olympic sport, loved them. Job done.

That said, as Black stood between the life-sized versions of Manlock - based on the legendary Olympic wrestler - and Wendeville - where it all began - turning the smile that melted the hearts of a thousand track-mad maidens from one photographer to another, it was hard not to agree with the judgement of design critic Stephen Bayley who described the two mascots as "horrible computer-generated Smurfs for the iPhone generation".

Some might call them Cyclops' bastard progeny. Not I. But some. Some might say they are reminiscent of a certain male organ. Not I. But some.

I'm sorry. I must correct a mistake in the paragraph before last. I meant, of course, Wenlock and Mandeville.

Black, a patriot so genuine that, last time I checked, he had a Union Jack flying in his garden (true), was patently enthusiastic about the names, given that - seriously - they refer respectively to the venue of the Games which sparked Baron Pierre de Coubertin's interest in starting the Modern Olympics, and to Stoke Mandeville, where the Paralympic Movement was effectively founded through the International Wheelchair Games.

But even this true Brit concluded that the two one-eyed characters were "a bit out there". He was much more comfortable with the mascot for Team GB, launched at the same time, which featured a jolly lion with a mane in the red, white and blue of the Union flag.

"Call me old-fashioned," he said, "but I'm really pleased it's a lion."

Quite.

Lord Coe, that consummate politician, may have insisted before the mascots were launched that the myriad focus groups of children were keener on stories than furry animals. But who hugs a story?

Eight months on from the initial launch of these strangely banal figures, it was interesting to see the way in which they have been developed.

Having veered very obviously away from the obvious, the company which created W and M has veered dramatically back to the familiar. Thus you may now purchase W and M dressed as Beefeaters, or Guardsmen, or - slightly bizarrely - male and female police officers. Couldn't be more traditional.

As such, the mascots represent a queasy middle ground between radically different ideas.

Of course, you could characterise it as the result of an Olympic dialectic between ancient and modern - a fusion of old and new sensibilities. If you wished.

What is not at issue is the fact that things used to be a lot simpler back in the Olympic day.

The first Olympic mascot was created before the 1972 Munich Games. Waldi the Dachsund. Clearly, a German dog for a German Games. All very efficient.

Four years later, at the Montreal Olympics, it was Amik. He looked like roadkill wrapped in a red Olympic ribbon, but was in fact a native creature – a hard-working beaver. Very suitable, given that the citizens of Montreal had to work for around 25 years to clear the Olympic debt with which their Games had saddled them.

In 1980? The Moscow Games? Misha the Bear. Bear being a symbol of Russia. Made perfect sense.

Four years on, the Los Angeles Games introduced us to Sam the Eagle, based on Uncle Sam. Nuff said.

The 1988 Seoul Olympics offered us another indigenous creature - Hodori, the Oriental tiger. No argument there either.

I interrupt this newscast to bring you Mr Black's responses to the question: "Which mascots do you remember?"

Now this is a man who competed over 400 metres at major Games for a decade, winning not only an individual Olympic silver medal but also a world silver, a Commonwealth title and two European titles. And all those events had mascots. Comme il faut.

"Er..." quoth the multiple medallist. "What was it in Barcelona? I think it was a cat..."

No, Roger, the 1992 Barcelona Olympic mascot was a dog. Cobi, to give it a bad name. But I knew what you meant.

And pressed on the subject, he came up with the only definite answer - World Cup Willie. Yep, the World Cup mascot from 1966 - the year he was born. A lion, as I recall.

And we're back in the newsroom...

Despite the fact that 1996 was his annus mirabilis, where he resurrected his injury-stricken career to take 400m individual and relay silvers at the Atlanta Games, Black could not remember a thing about that year's mascot.

Which is hardly surprising, given the fact that Izzy - for that was its name, based on the question "What is it?" – was an "amorphous abstract fantasy figure", the first of its line to be designed by computer. It looked like a dog's breakfast. And the answer to the question was: unmemorable.

The glorious Sydney Games of 2000, as they are known to anyone who was fortunate enough to attend them, featured three mascots, all - unimpeachably – native Australian animals. They were Syd (the platypus), Olly (the kookaburra) and Millie (the echnida).

You can't argue with that. But I was in Sydney for the whole Games and I don't remotely remember any of them. I thought the Sydney mascots were Roy and HG.

In 2004? We had Athena and Phevos. Huge pink feet, triangular bodies, long necks. Computer generated? Actually no.

These two were based on dolls thousands of years old which had been unearthed from archaeological sites in Greece. The names, blamelessly, derived from Greek mythology, which held that they were brother and sister – Phevos, the god of light and music, Athena the goddess of wisdom and patron of the city of Athens.

So fair enough. But they still looked like computer-generated blobs.

The last Olympics, in Beijing, featured what I would argue were the most effective mascots in the form of the Fuwa - good luck dolls which represented the five traditional Chinese elements, and whose names also, cleverly, spelt out the message: Beijing welcomes you.

At least, that's what I've read. For all I know it could have read: Do Not Spit On The Road.

Which brings us back to London 2012. After the dodgy logo - in the beginning was the word, and the word was unintelligible - there followed the myopic mascots.

Of course, as the proverb goes, in the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.

But I can't help thinking it would have been better to have chosen something a little more obvious for our enduring mascot.

Even though he came from darkest Peru, I feel Paddington Bear - who found friendship and love in London - would have done nicely.

Mike Rowbottom, one of Britain's most talented sportswriters, has covered the last five Summer and four Winter Olympics for The Independent. Previously he has worked for the Daily Mail, The Times, The Observer, the Sunday Correspondent and The Guardian. He is now chief feature writer for insidethegames