Hyde Park's churned-up turf has seen rather more than its share of pop festivals this summer, but where else to accommodate the 65,000 people who paid £15 each to celebrate the arrival of the Olympic torch in the capital?
The challenge for the organisers was to find an all-British lineup comprised of well-known acts who hadn't worn out their welcome by appearing at other recent London outdoor gigs – easier said than done, it turned out.
It's hard to think of a 2012 festival that hasn't featured Dizzee Rascal doing his ebullient grime-pop thing, and here he was again, as headliner.
The rest of the bill had a quota-filling quality: there was a boyband (The Wanted), a grime rapper (Wretch 32), a chipper pop girl (Eliza Doolittle) and a producer who wears white slacks with panache (Mark Ronson).
There was even a relatively low-profile rock band, You Me at Six, who must have got the call because Coldplay were unavailable.
In effect, all human life was here, as long as it was under 35 and had been in the chart in the last year.
But if the roster felt thrown together, that was fine with the crowd, who were so benevolent they even gave Boris Johnson a bellow of approval when he turned up to greet the torch.
Perhaps Johnson was here because the soft drink company sponsoring the event had flagged it up as "a powerful way to engage young people with the Games".
One person who was already fully engaged was Vicky Kidby, who was on crutches, having fractured her ankle.
Sunbathing on the woodchip laid down by promoters Live Nation after downpours two weeks ago, the 24-year-old from Clapham, south London, said: "I came because it's a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I'm looking forward to seeing Emeli Sandé."
Told Sandé was not on the bill, she looked crestfallen, then brightened. "But Katy B's playing!"
She was – one of just two women all day. The Peckham singer, who alchemises dubstep and pop, was the sparkiest thing of the day – Ronson, who joined her to play a specially composed Olympic theme (think Gary Barlow's Sing, but with synths) was utterly overshadowed.
The Wanted have the advantage of being a hairs breadth more edgy than rivals One Direction, by virtue of their urban-lite songs, but they nearly ceded all credibility by playing a Coldplay medley.
And on to Dizzee Rascal, who has metamorphosed from brooding grime MC to something approaching a national treasure.
Toddlers bounced to the likes of Sirens and Jus' a Rascal, filmed by their parents, encouraged by Uncle Dizzee, who danced next to the Olympic flame as it blazed in a cauldron.
Yet his music has lost none of its jarring metallic edge, and Dizzee himself is still about as cuddly as your average tiger.
But he has a remarkable ability to brings crowds together, and as his Bonkers juddered to a close wished us "peace and love … this is once in a lifetime shit."
