Gosh. Good afternoon, everybody. I'm so excited I can barely sit still. That's not sarcasm, by the way - I love pretty much every single thing about the Olympics, and that includes opening ceremonies, no matter how bizarre and metaphor-laden. So join me for the next hour or two as we deconstruct what's on offer to us in Beijing's brilliantly-nicknamed Bird's Nest Stadium.
Some facts about the Bird's Nest, gleaned from the reliable academically-referenced source that is Wikipedia:
It has a 91,000 capacity.
The stadium is 330 metres long by 220 metres wide, and 69.2 metres high.
There was a competition to secure the design and build tender, and the winners were architects Herzog & de Meuron in collaboration with ArupSport and China Architecture Design & Research Group. Artist Ai Weiwei was on board as the artistic consultant for design.
Some reports said that there were at least 10 deaths during the construction of the stadium. Beijing officials denied this, saying that only two people died, and four were injured, which is clearly much, much better.
12.45: Opening credits!
Ooh! Steve Redgrave! Michael Johnson! Matthew Pinsent! They are telling us about how great the Olympics are, like we don't already know. Then they go all serious to tell us about how bad the cheats are. Then they go all happy again to say that winning Olympic gold is the hugest honour ever.
And here's Sue Barker, resplendent in canary yellow, suitable for the Bird's Nest. Do canaries have nests?
12.50pm: Sue hands over to our commentary team for the opening ceremony - Carrie Gracie, the BBC's former Beijing correspondent, Hazel Irvine, and everyone's favourite newsreader Huw Edwards. Seriously.
A little bit of politics, yes indeed. President Bush is at the opening ceremony, and he is sitting with Vladimir Putin. Steve Redgrave thinks the protests during the torch relay were fine, and he's glad the world had its say, but now it is the athletes' time, and there should be no more interruptions.
12.55pm: Fireworks! Here we go! Drummers are beating the countdown on drums that light up. The whole stadium looks like a giant rave, with people in the crowd waving fluorescent wands. The timer reaches zero, and more fireworks explode. "Has there ever been an opening like it?" asks Huw Edwards.
1pm: Jacques Rogge and the president are introduced to the crowd to great applause, and they stand up to greet their adoring audience. Rogge looks less happy to be there than President Hu.
1.01pm: The drummers are off again, with added shouting. Apparently they are welcoming "old friends coming from afar". The crowd are clapping along. If it wasn't the middle of the day, this whole shebang would be ripe for a drinking game.
1.04pm: The lights have gone out, and now the drummers are working with fluorescent wands. It looks pretty good. Or "very, very impressive", if you're Huw Edwards.
1.06pm: MORE FIREWORKS. There will be 20,000 fireworks during this opening ceremony, and 600 people are working simply to get the pyrotechnics going. The Olympic rings light up the floor, and then some people fly in on wires. 1.10pm: Aww. A small child sings a lovely song. Aww.
1.12pm: National anthem, more fireworks. And then they do a little VT, like you get in the Eurovision Song Contest, introducing us to the theme of "scrolls".
1.15pm: And as if by magic, a scroll unfurls on the stadium floor. Huw Edwards says: "It will be the canvas on to which tableaux will be created." Some people in very tight lycra walk onto the scroll, and they begin to paint a highly intricate pattern on it. There are a whole troupe of them on there by the end, and one of them does some solo intepretative dance. The centre of the scroll is raised into the air, and then the lights go out. I'd say it was a damp squib, but I don't think firework-related puns are really appropriate.
1.20pm: 3,000 "disciples of Confucius" are dressed in what look like a cross between vaguely grubby wedding dresses and the costumes of the Knights who say Ni. It looks good when they're swishing about, though.
1.22pm: I am utterly lost. Now they're talking about the power of the printed word, and Hazel tells us that China invented the printing press, which is why there are lots of symbols moving around in blocks in the middle of the stage. "We are seeing the evolution of one special character," says Carrie (not me, I mean the one on the telly - I've not yet taken on Michael Vaughan-esque third-person inflections). The character, which I can't reproduce on this keyboard, symbolises harmony, which is the theme for the evening.
1.25pm: Now they're creating a reproduction of the Great Wall. And then the lighting goes pink and flowery, and peach blossoms are flourished, and the people who have been operating the blocks in that little performance spring out to wave at the audience.
1.27pm: The next theme is music. Carrie Gracie tells us that China is good at mobilising huge numbers of people, and this ceremony is playing to its strengths.
1.29pm: Four men are doing puppetry, while some others, swathed in saffron, dance around them and bash on drums. They're from the Peking Opera. It's very, very noisy. Carrie says that some people aren't too keen on having this kind of thing beamed across the world because it's so traditional, and they'd prefer a more modern offering.
The dancers carry part of the stage, which has a sort of mountain imagery being beamed on to it, and all the while on top of it a lady in a dress consisting of green and yellow hankies dances. No, really, that's what's happening.
1.33pm: The hundreds of dancers are now dressed in blue, and are brandishing paddles. Hazel and Carrie are talking about the aesthetics and the precision of their routine, and then Huw interjects with, "These paddles are VERY VERY HEAVY." Just so we all know that it is fine for men to do dancing, because it takes a lot of macho physical strength. Hazel makes an ill-advised joke about Steve Redgrave giving the oar-waving a go.
1.37pm: Some more scroll-painting, then scores of female dancers process onto the stage, as some huge multicoloured structures reminiscent of teapots are scattered around the arena, and then extend up into pillars, each with people perched on the top of them. Carrie Gracie tells us it symbolises the progression through the dynasties. This is amazing. Even if it is old-school traditional culture, and even if I haven't got a clue what's going on, it looks so, so good. What the heck are we going to have in four years' time? That's a genuine question. Any suggestions?
1.41pm: Fireworks!
1.43pm: Oh, I know who this is! It's Lang Lang, who is a classical pianist. Thus, he is playing a white grand piano, along with a small piano prodigy child. This section represents a more modern era, so the technicolour lights are back on. Huw Edwards reminds us that the more modern lights indicate a more modern age, and Hazel Irvine scoffs: "It looks like something you might have pulled out of your wardrobe in the Eighties." The dancers, who have been closely packed around the piano, suddenly spread out, and their costumes are lit up with bulbs as they run around and create moving patterns, while the scroll shows pictures from today's China.
1.47pm: The dancers have moved in to create the shape of a dove, and then they make its wings move. "It exudes confidence at every level," says Huw Edwards. A small girl in a pink dress then flies into the arena, flying a kite and waving vigorously at everyone, as the dancers move in to make the shape of the stadium, and the lights on their costumes are flashing on and off. Lang Lang is still playing, by the way.
1.50pm: The dancers fan out again, and it's time for the next section of the ceremony, which will demonstrate the unity of man and nature. And I know what this first bit is too - it's a group of people performing Tai Chi. The dancing squad are holding up reflective screens, which are making ribbons of light flash across the arena. Then the huge plasma screens at the top of the stadium kick in, giving the impression of very specifically focused torrential rain.
1.53pm: Some more children are sat in the middle of the arena, acting out a classroom scene, before the Tai Chi begins again. Then the children recite some poetry. Then there's more Tai Chi. "Although they call this the Green Games," says Carrie, "that IS controversial." She then goes off on a bit of recitation of her own, listing the terrible damage that China does to the environment every day.
1.58pm: One of my friends has just changed his Facebook status to say that he thinks "this opening ceremony may be even more spectacular than The Lion King. Maybe."
1.59pm: Remember that big painting they did all that time ago? That's back, and it's being hoisted into the air. And then some spacemen zoom in. "We can go into space, and we can host the Olympics!" summarises Carrie.
2.01pm: A massive globe has just magically sprung up! I didn't even see where it came from! And people are running round it! They're suspended on wires, obviously, which you can see when the camera closes up, but from afar, it looks like MAGIC.
2.02pm: I know who this is too! It's Sarah Brightman and her hair extensions! She's singing the Olympics theme song with Liu Huan, and a nauseatingly cute children's choir. Then the fireworks kick in and drown it out. What I could hear of it sounded OK, but it was no 'Barcelona'.
2.08pm: The "formal parade" is coming to an end now, and this is being marked with much dancing.
2.09pm: Here come the athletes!
2.10pm: Greece are on first out of the 204 countries competing - and it's by Chinese stroke-order, rather than alphabetical order. Australia has lots of strokes, we're told, so they'll be out towards the end.
2.13pm: Why on EARTH are bagpipes playing? Hazel Irvine enlightens us - a Chinese official saw the pipe band, who hail from Dundee, at a folk festival in France some years back, and booked them. Simple - and random - as that. So they'll be providing the music to march by.
2.16pm: I am loving the suits of the chaps from Macedonia. They look like they've stepped straight out of Saturday Night Fever. And I am also loving the debutant Marshall Islands team.
2.22pm: Don't forget that Japan have a 67-year-old dressage rider, Hiroshi Hoketsu, who last entered the Olympics 40-odd years ago. How brilliant is that?
2.27pm: One of the Ugandan boxers has been practising on car tyres in lieu of a punchbag, and he's not allowed to spar against other people for fear of injury. Get your money on him.
2.28pm: It's SERGEI BUBKA! I really am nonsensically excited.
2.31pm: By the way, I'd utterly missed this, but the athletes are walking on to a canvas in the middle of the arena to leave their footprints. President Bush is enthralled. First Lady Bush is smiling benignly.
2.36pm: Watching this truly gives you a warm feeling in your heart. Everyone is so happy and proud and flag-wavy, in a good way. We're a quarter of the way through the athletes' parade.
2.42pm: Rafael Nadal is preparing for his victorious procession! Watch out for Murray-set boobytraps, Rafa, I'd put nothing past them.
2.48pm: I've just realised I've forgotten to eat lunch what with all this taking over my life. Ah well. Spain are coming in now, and they're a right rabble. They're not marching in line, they're just waving their straw hats at people in the crowd and recording the moment for posterity on hand-held cameras.
2.56pm: The Hungary women are wearing the most disgusting skirt-suits - cream, with pink and red floral patterns. They look a bit embarrassed, as well they might.
2.59pm: We have our one-athlete country, people - Dominica! 3pm: Princess Anne is in the crowd, looking distinctly flustered as she flaps a fan in her face. She's probably thinking, "The parades NEVER took this long in my day."
3.05pm: Every time Huw Edwards addresses a question to Carrie, I keep looking up because I think he's talking to me. Anyway, the GB team are preparing to enter the arena now.
3.06pm: The Belize team march in. Here's the only thing Hazel Irvine can think of to say about them - "The disgraced athlete Marion Jones had dual Belize-US citizenship. She may well be watching from a prison cell in Texas."
3.11pm: And here's the only thing she can think of to say about Aruba: "It's in the opening line of the Beach Boys' song Kokomo." She could at least have added that it's where Rachel was going to go on honeymoon with Barry in 'Friends', which is admittedly the only bit of wisdom I'd have been able to add.
3.14pm: Team GB! For the sartorially-minded, they're wearing navy polo shirts and skirts or trousers and white blazers. Mark Foster of Channel Five's Superstars fame is carrying the flag. Princess Anne gets to her feet, and waves in semaphore style to the squad. Tom Daley, bless his heart, looks like he's having a ball.
3.22pm: Respect to Kazakhstan, who are all in nice suits and have sashes emblazoned with their country's name across them, and look like a Miss Kazakhstan convention.
3.28pm: Hold tight, gang, the US team are out, President Bush is all happy because he recognises them, and we're about three-quarters of the way through now. 3.35pm: I hope the Chinese dancing girls are on performance-related pay, because they've been dancing energetically and solidly for the last hour and a half. 3.36pm: The Lesotho team have themselves some awesome outfits - kind of tiger fur, but not quite, and because there aren't very many of them the TV coverage moves off them pretty quickly so I can't describe them any better.
3.49pm: Roger Federer's up next, carrying the Switzerland flag for the second Olympics running, the greedy lad. But it is his birthday, so perhaps that's OK.
3.52pm: The Montenegro team look like Boy Scouts that have lost their way to camp - they're wearing khaki uniforms and caps.
3.56pm: Second one-person team, people - Nauru!
4pm: We're into the final ten now. I am exhausted, so I can't begin to imagine how tired the dancing girls must be.
4.09pm: And finally, here are the China team - and the crowd go wild. The giant basketball player Yao Ming is carrying the flag alongside a tiny earthquake survivor.
4.10pm: Must be time for some more fireworks, surely?
4.14pm: Huw Edwards tells us what's going to happen now. There'll be a couple of speeches - one by the Games organiser, one by Jacques Rogge, and then President Hu will declare the Games open.
4.21pm: Rafa Nadal is positively streaming with sweat in the centre of the arena. Roger Federer, by contrast, is cool and collected, as ever. All the nations' flags are now encircling the track. We have a bit of a pause here while they build a podium for the dignitaries to give their speeches from.
4.24pm: Fireworks! Yay! The podium's in place now, so we're all set for the solemnities. The men in suits take to the stage to a jaunty little tune, and it's Liu Qi to talk first - exciting historic moment; welcome the athletes, coaches and guests from everywhere; thank you to the IOC, the sport federations, and all friends of Beijing; these will be the Green Olympics, the high-tech Olympics, the people's Olympics.
4.32pm: Jacques Rogge's on now - one world, one dream; have fun; compete with the Olympic values of friendship and respect; drugs are bad.
4.36pm: Everyone's on their feet, as President Hu declares the Games open. The Olympic flag is carried into the arena by Chinese Olympic veterans, clad entirely in white, including some pristine gloves. It's a big, slow tour of the stadium, and takes a good ten minutes for them to get all the way round. They hand over to some soldiers, who march it up the steps to the flagpole. It is hoisted accordingly, and then everyone who isn't already standing gets up for the Olympic anthem, sung by some angelic-sounding children.
4.48pm: Zhang Yining takes the Olympic oath on behalf of all competitors, promising to fight the good fight and not take drugs, which as we know from Jacques Rogge are bad. I didn't notice before, but China's athletes are all wearing bright yellow blazers, making them look like they should be in Hi-De-Hi. Then Huang Liping takes the oath on behalf of all the officials, promising to be impartial and sportsmanlike.
4.51pm: More interpretative dancing, and the dancers are showing the athletes and the audience how to mime the action of "dove". Good for them, though, they're all joining in. Hazel Irvine spoils it by telling us that some of the flock of real live doves that I presume will be released shortly died in rehearsal, scalded to death by the Olympic cauldron.
4.54pm: And finally, the torch is in the arena. Obviously they can't light the big cauldron straightaway, though; there's a mini-relay first.
5pm: Legendary gymnast Li Ning is lifted into the air on wires, looking like a slightly too big Peter Pan. He flies up to the roof, where he runs in slow-motion round the rim, still clutching the blazing torch. He gets to the big torch, which is silver and red, and lights the touchpaper. The flames take hold in a spiral formation, and the 29th Olympic Games are officially OPEN!
I'm off for a lie-down. Have a good Games, everybody - thanks for your company this afternoon, it's been firework-laden.
