Avant: le deluge. There was a moment, about an hour into Paris 2024’s Grand Opening Spectacular, as the rain soaked through shoes, trousers, socks and eventually skin, hair and bone; as yet more boats of waving people chugged down the Seine, like watching an endless series of weirdly nationalistic office parties; as some men did some dancing in a place, for reasons that frankly seemed quite remote at that point, where a thought occurred.
Maybe this wasn’t just the worst Olympic opening ceremony ever. Maybe this wasn’t the worst outdoor event ever. Maybe this was the worst thing ever.
