"It is a national disgrace." That was the verdict of Labour MP Bob Marshall-Andrews, even before Mr William Hague smashed the consensus, demanded immediate closure, a ministerial head on a plate, and a full public inquiry.
As political outrage continued to build yesterday over the latest (£47 million) cash bail out - and as its prospective purchaser, Japanese finance house Nomura, declared itself "shocked and amazed" at the latest tale of financial mismanagement - the Millennium Dome farce finally turned to folly.
"The £800 million Disaster Zone," declared the London Independent. "Close it today," demanded the Daily Express. Suddenly New Labour's big tent had shrunk - and this was not a reference to its failure to find further suitable use for the disputed talents of Mo Mowlam.
The Millennium Dome - that intended beacon for all that was great, modern, innovative, young and cool about Tony Blair's Britannia - had turned into the ultimate big dipper. And the anger was fuelled by the Millennium Commission's assertion that it was "deeply disappointed" and "extremely sorry" to have to agree another emergency handout.
The latest £47 million comes barely a month after the positively "last" grant of £43 million, made on condition that the New Millennium Experience Company repaid it from its projected £53 million share of the £105 million sale at year-end to Nomura.
Like all the other projections associated with what the Labour MP Austin Mitchell dubbed this "glorious piece of land reclamation", these seemed in serious question yesterday as it emerged - contrary to popular assumption - that the Japanese have signed nothing yet, and that their plans to convert to a theme park could be in doubt.
"It came as news to us, we were shocked and amazed," said a Nomura spokesman: "Two things surprised us - the £47 million cash handout and the announcement of the projection of visitor figures of 4.5 million from the expected seven million."
The spokesman continued: "I think our next step will be to try and find out from the New Millennium Experience Company why they have been given this additional funding. We need to talk to NMEC to change our figures."
As Nomura prepared to talk figures - presumably downwards - anger built on all sides at the realisation that the Dome has so far claimed £680 million which might otherwise have been spent on "good causes"; that barely a third of the projected 12 million visitors will have made the trip to Greenwich by the end of the year; and that every visitor will have been subsidised to the tune of £130 by the lottery player.
On a day when Mayor Ken Livingstone was again talking about the difficulties of keeping essential workers in London because of the absence of affordable rented sector housing, it said it all that the desperate Dome should be offering a million NHS staff and their families and friends cut-price admission.
It was inevitable, too, that demands would be made for the head of Lord Falconer - Mr Blair's close pal, and the cabinet minister in charge of the project. Questions of justice and accountability apart, the natural desire would be to drive this as close to Number 10 as possible.
Some observers thought it unfair that Lord Falconer be asked to fall on his sword, since divining where and when ministerial responsibility began for each episode of this unfolding disaster would be as difficult as remembering who was last chairman of the Millennium Experience. The body count as of Tuesday was three chairmen, two chief executives and three presiding ministers.
And anyway, pinning it directly on the door of Number 10 (although certainly not Number 11) isn't difficult. After some initial doubts, Mr Blair made the project his own - foreseeing, doubtless, a glittering monument to New Labour's first term, and a populist springboard to his second.
It is a monument - certainly in the Daily Telegraph's mind - to profligacy on a large scale, which should be the subject of an inquiry by whichever minister presides finally over its demise.
If the Dome is forever cast in many minds as irredeemably tacky, that too is the view some Londoners take of its intended fate. Having tried and failed to build some wonderful national expo, the political inclination will be to get rid of it as quickly as possible.
One Labour supporter who takes a keen interest in these matters yesterday offered his own sceptical forecast yesterday: "We'll sell it off for a pittance instead of trying to do something truly imaginative and worthwhile for the longer term. Then eventually the Japanese will say it's no longer suitable as a theme park, and sell the whole thing for some commercial development, doubtless making millions of pounds of profits in the process." Then he added: "Now I call that tacky."