What's it really like being an athlete at the Olympics?

Paris is going to be my third Olympics and, let me tell you, I’ve learned a thing or two while waving a badminton bat around.

Want to know how you get all your kit? What about the madness of the Olympic Village? Or what the script is with cardboard beds and condoms?

Then I’m right here for you. Welcome to my handy Frequently Asked Olympic Questions…

In badminton, you pretty much know because it’s down to the world rankings, but then you get an email from the BOA asking you to confirm your selection.

After that comes a formal letter on fancy Team GB headed paper and a smaller embossed card welcoming you to the team and wishing you the best.

It all gets a bit boring for the next couple of months.

You do the mandatory anti-doping workshops, suffer through the media training and put it into practice for the announcement media day, then hopefully stay awake through the logistics briefing of times, dates, venues, transport etc.

All the while training, in my case, for four-six hours per day in preparation for your final few tournaments and the Games themselves.

You get a slot for kitting-out day. I’ve done a few of these now and they are wild.

Basically, you turn up at the NEC in Birmingham and are directed into a cavernous hall which has been converted into an enormous Adidas showroom with rails and rails of newly-designed gear.

And everything is free. I know…

Once you’ve checked in, lounged in the welcome area, then had a briefing on how special it is to be a Team GB athlete, you are assigned a personal shopper. Again, I know…

They kinda just hang around taking notes on an iPad as you try on every single item.

I’m talking village kit, competition kit, suit for official pictures, opening ceremony outfit, closing ceremony outfit, and the shoes to go with all of those.

Post-fashion show, we do pictures and media while our new pal oversees having everything loaded into three massive Union Flag emblazoned bags.

Judging by the scales at the airport when I flew home, it’s around 30kg of shiny new gear.

And beside the clothes, there’s loads of other bits and pieces too. Flip flops, sunnies, umbrella, sweatbands, bucket hats, notebooks, and don’t forget the rubber duck. Genuinely.

Oh, and for Tokyo, a cherry blossom Blue Peter badge. Childhood dream come true, right there.

Previously, I’ve met the badminton team at Heathrow and we’ve flown to Rio and Tokyo.

This time, I’ll likely get dropped off at the airport by my girlfriend then fly straight to Paris, while the Milton Keynes-based boys get the Eurostar.

The circus really starts when we arrive in France. From then on, it’s special Games Lanes, people with signs pointing athletes where to go, and herding you onto buses to the village.

Accreditation is next and that laminated piece of paper will be glued to us for the next three weeks because we cannot go anywhere without it.

It’s vast, but you still can’t miss the Team GB tower block. We like to make our presence felt and, for other countries, I imagine it could be a little intimidating.

There are more Union Flags flying around than when Rangers won the league that one time (just a wee Glasgow joke for you there).

Bunting, cushions and even the deckchairs on an artificial lawn facing a massive screen to watch the Games are all red, white and blue. There’s even an iconic red telephone box.

The Paris one is apparently smaller than usual but there’s still a lot of walking. Much more than I’d do at home.

It’s something - much to my girlfriend’s delight - I actually put into my training programme to ready myself for the Games.

The village is huge. About the size of 70 football pitches, apparently. Fortunately, Team GB will have a fleet of fold up bikes for us to cruise around on and there are shuttle buses too.

Fancy a haircut? Manicure? Dental check up? Send a package at the post office? Sure…

All this along with a general store, souvenir shop, and apparently a bakery running a baguette baking masterclass because it’s Paris, right?

Every time, the dining hall is dubbed “the biggest restaurant in the world”.

The Paris one will be able to seat 3,500 people at any time and let me tell you, it definitely feels like it. There will be 14,250 athletes and up to 60,000 meals will be served each day.

Queuing three times a day along with thousands of other athletes in queue marked ‘Asian’, ‘Western’, ‘Halal’ and ‘desserts’ is incredible but draining, too.

Imagine standing in line for 15 minutes only to discover the heavyweight boxer in front of you nabbed the last pork chop.

Even spotting a Tom Daley or Usain Bolt isn’t sufficient solace for having to settle for your second choice of meal.

If we can’t be bothered with the hassle, the lounge areas back at our digs are loaded with shelves and shelves of cereal bars, popcorn, fruit, nuts, and porridge pots because, of course, Team GB has a supermarket partner.

Those pots, by the way, quickly become precious after spending the first few days walking 15 minutes then queuing for breakfast in the vast food hall.

Aye, about that.. they are not anti-sex beds as the clickbait headlines would have you believe.

They can hold up to 200kgs comfortably, are completely solid, sustainable, and recyclable post-Games. That’s all.

The rooms in general are fairly basic, however Team GB dress the place up with posters, fluffy dressing gowns, mascot soft toys and extra comfy bedding.

Listen, as someone in a same-sex relationship, that’s not my area of expertise, okay.

But I can tell you that in Rio they were very readily available from dispensers akin to the ones you would put 20p in after the swimming and get jelly beans out.

Again due to Covid protocols in Tokyo, athletes were discouraged from “mingling” so I don’t recall seeing condoms there. But there are set to be the usual 300,000 in stock for Paris, although that’s none of my business…

We can go to our own performance centre with a gym, ice baths, quiet rooms, a pool, and chefs or to Team GB house, where we can meet our nearest and dearest, delegates and celebs.

Most larger countries have their own version of this. I’ve had the privilege of visiting the Dutch one in Rio, which slid from civilised, official business in the beginning to full-on nightclub the further into the Games it got.

I visited on the last night in Rio and witnessed them needing to get rid of all the beer.

They cracked open every remaining bottle and lined them up on the bar. Seeing how many you can grab at one time is quite the test of an athlete’s physical dexterity.

In Rio, Team GB House was in the iconic Parque Lage, which is honestly one of the most spectacular buildings I have ever been in. It was like King Louie’s monkey palace in the Jungle Book but fancy.

The final hidden gem of the Olympic village is the recreation rooms. Dotted around the village and available to everyone these are huge spaces with sofas, beanbags, TVs, PlayStations, Xboxes, pool tables, arcade games, VR headsets, all sorts.

They’re really cool spaces for athletes to mingle and cross paths with other countries or bond together as a team.

We also enter an unwritten game - pin swapping. Should we chose to play, it gets as competitive as you’d imagine given the participants are elite athletes.

We arrive with an empty lanyard, but leave jangling like a one-person band with dangling clogs from the Team NL or a colourful turtle from the Cayman Islands.

It’s such a mixed bag. With so many different people from so many different cultures, religions, backgrounds, each one on a different competition schedule, everyone relaxes differently.

I think there’s a little less madness post Games now. The vast majority of athletes are respectful and aware that others in the village are still competing.

In my experience a lot of the partying happens outside of the village. Just don’t lose your accreditation or you won’t get back in...