The number of condoms provided to athletes suggests that the Olympic Village’s reputation as a hotbed of sexual activity is well-earned. Is that really the case?

Seventeen days, 10,500 athletes, 33 venues, and 450,000 condoms. That’s how many camisinhas (little shirts in Brazilian slang) are being supplied by the International Olympics Committee for the 2016 Rio Summer Games. Forty-two per athlete, to be specific, which, even by Olympic standards, is a hell of a lot.

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Welcome to the most promiscuous Olympics in history. The provision of 350,000 condoms, 100,000 female condoms and 175,000 packets of lubricant for Rio’s Olympic Village – the usual mix of ripped athletes, condos, shops, bars, clubs and, erm, McDonald’s - is three times higher than the London 2012 allowance of 150,000 condoms, which prompted tabloids to dub it “the raunchiest games ever”.

“It is an absolutely huge allocation of condoms,” admits Olympic rowing gold and silver medallist Zac Purchase, who retired from rowing in 2014 and competed in London and Beijing. “But it is all so far from the truth of what it’s like to be in there. It’s not some sexualised cauldron of activity. We’re talking about athletes who are focused on producing the best performance of their lives.”

So why do they need 450,000 condoms? The record-breaking allocation for Rio is reported to be so high because female condoms are being given away for the first time. The Zika virus, which has spread across Brazil and dominated Olympic discussions, is not being given as a reason but British athletes have been issued with key guidance and the Australian team will arrive armed with antiviral condoms to provide extra protection.

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The latex count began in Seoul in 1988, when 8,500 condoms were distributed to athletes and reports of condoms found on the roofs of Olympic residences led the Olympic Association to ban outdoor sex. Since then, the number of condoms provided has jumped around more than a gold-medal gymnast: 90,000 to Barcelona in 1992 and an almost prudish 15,000 by comparison to Atlanta in 1996. In Sydney 2000, Australian organisers ordered 70,000 condoms but a further 20,000 were brought in when they ran out halfway through the Games. In Athens 2004, Durex donated 130,000 condoms “to smooth the performance of the world’s elite sports people in the arena and under the covers”.

All of which oils the reputation of the village as some kind of sex-crazed Woodstock for athletes. According to gold medal-winning Australian target shooter Mark Russell, it is “the most testosterone fuelled place on earth”. In London 2012, Grindr crashed as athletes arrived, and at Sochi 2014, a female Olympic gold snowboarder noted that “Tinder in the Olympic Village is next level”. After Beijing 2008, an Olympic table-tennis player divulged the secrets of the “sex fest” and the “volcanic release of pent-up hedonism” that apparently happens when thousands of athletes at the top of their game come together. (To which you may wonder … aren’t they too knackered?) “It’s a calm place during the competition,” Purchase insists. And afterwards? “There is a lot of celebration, but it’s very controlled.”