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!!!!SPOILER ALERT!!!!

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An MC took to the stage, trying to whip us all into a frenzy by telling us to clap and stuff. Attached to the seats in front of us were what appeared to be electric flyswatters, which the MC referred to as “pixel batons.” The combined effect was something similar to the North Korean Mass Games’ card mosaics, albeit without the precision and dynamism you get when everyone involved is scared of being disappeared if they fuck up.The handsets bore stickers claiming their place of manufacture was Belgium. The crowd participation section also involved floating large pieces of material over the heads of spectators, to create the illusion of an ocean and block any view of what it might be that you paid to go and see.
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Things got more exciting as the countryside began to modernize. The outfits of the cast members became grubbier, and steam and chimneys began to fill the air as the green of the grass made way for the grzy landscape of an age of industry, conjuring images of dark Satanic mills and child slavery.The set-piece turnovers were not speedy enough to suspend disbelief, however the music and the sheer number of people in view kept attentions focused. For television audiences, the coverage will undoubtedly fill in the gaps with replays while the new sets are being prepared. As the pace quickened, so did the speed at which the years passed by. There were references to the Suffragettes, the Jarrow Marches, Windrush, and other historical touch-points, before the industrial age reached its climax in the form of the welding together of the Olympics rings, which is exactly how it happened, I think.

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However, what followed was quite simply ridiculous. Magical, perhaps, for those under the age of 13, but ridiculous all the same. A number of online news outlets have picked up on this detail already, the response to which has been sheer astonishment and scepticism in equal measures.But I can confirm that the rumours are true. A 50-foot Lord Voldemort does indeed square off against 50 Mary Poppinses. I have been trying for the past 24 hours to put this movie-mashup showdown into some kind of context. I'm just not sure the world is ready for a cross-promotional film tie-in of this magnitude yet. I guess we'll find out in a few hours.

The battle did at least set the tone for the rest of the ceremony: Pop culture collages and soundbites. A canvas home and a brick home were erected onstage, one containing an ambiguously mixed race family, and the other projecting the best of British music videos of the past decade. There, Millie Small met the Prodigy and The Clash met Dizzee Rascal.For the closing sequences, I was reminded that British people were capable of many profound things, all of which I've since forgotten. There was plenty that the organizers kept from us—look out in particular for the Holy Trinity that encompasses all of British masculinity: Rowan Atkinson, Daniel Craig, and David Beckham. It was actually a glorious success, and barring alien invasion or terrorist attack, it should ensure that the Games at least begin in a brilliant way, even if what follows in the weeks of competition and beyond isn't quite as appealing. More Olympics?The VICE Guide to the OlympicsWe Snuck Into a Top Security Olympic Arena