This episode, which seemed to drag on for longer than many a self-respecting soap opera, has mercifully reached some sort of conclusion this week with the unveiling of two predominantly indigo-and-white designs that will act as the logos of the 2020 Olympic and Paralympic Games.

The design, we are told, “represents different countries, cultures and ways of thinking”, though I am at a loss to see how, while also incorporating “the message of ‘Unity in Diversity’”.

If you think we have been here before, you are right – on July 24, 2015, to be precise, when two mainly black and red logos were revealed exactly five years before Tokyo 2020’s scheduled starting date.

As my colleague Daniel Etchells reported at the time, these emblems “were created to symbolise the power of unity”.

Etchells explained: “The black colour of the central column represents diversity; the combination of all colours.

“The shape of the circle represents an inclusive world in which everyone accepts each other, while the red of the circle reflects the power of every beating heart.”

Unfortunately, these emblems gave rise to plagiarism allegations.

Tokyo 2020 eventually decided some weeks later to scrap the original emblems and conduct a competition for a new design.

Hence we have been subjected to not one but two unveilings of logos which seem to me as unfathomable as the language used to interpret them is pompous and overblown.

Given that the current emphasis is supposed to be on being cost-conscious, and given that Tokyo 2020 came up with a perfectly serviceable - and readily comprehensible - logo as long ago as 2011, one feels driven to ask whether the embarrassment of the past nine months was really necessary.

The Japanese capital’s bright, cheery sakura blossom design served admirably for its successful bid.

It symbolised “the concepts of friendship, peace, eternity, happiness and unity”, as Tokyo 2020 President Tsunekazu Takeda explained at its unveiling, and was inspired by a flower that is an internationally recognised symbol of Japan.

Append the Olympic and Paralympic symbols and – voilà! – job done, a dandy logo for a Tokyo Games, or so I would have thought.

Of course, this would entail surrendering the "media opportunity" an entirely new design affords.

However, obsessive mediatisation of every cough, wheeze and sniffle of the Games preparation process is part of what ails the Movement at present, in my opinion.

To get an idea of how practical and frugal Olympic administrators used to be, take a look at this letterhead that recently caught my eye. (photo supplied)

Yes, Finnish organisers, left with a job lot of unused stationery following cancellation of the 1940 Games on account of the Second World War, made three small alterations after being awarded the 1952 Olympics, and scythed squillions from their prospective paper bill, or so it appears.

Of course, I am not advocating a retreat to the practices and careful husbandry of the immediate post-war years.

Sport’s financial cupboards were just as bare in those days as the Helsinki Organising Committee’s unwillingness to throw away out-of-date letterhead suggests.

The Movement only secured the degree of autonomy and spending power it enjoys today as a consequence of the financial independence made possible by the corporate sponsorship and TV rights revolutions of the late 1980s.

I just feel that nowadays it is all too easy for what makes the circus of a 21st century Olympiad worthwhile to get lost in the thicket of competing interests vying to make sure that their particular piece of the Five Rings is as big and as prominent as possible.

And what, pray, does still make the circus worthwhile, in spite of the impositions it makes on the host-city, in spite of the extravagance, in spite of everything?

For me, it is the opportunity it affords for people from all over the world to congregate and from the starting-point of a common language – sport – to strive towards greater mutual comprehension through friendships that will often last a lifetime.

No more and no less.

Set against this simple but noble function, the logo saga really is Much Ado About Nothing.