Just me then?
It was supposed to be the Jim Rose Circus Sideshow in the comedy tent. Remember them? Vomit drinking freaks who lifted weights with their cocks and stuck all manner of pointy stuff into their skin. I'm sure many of you lot loved them, as did many others at the time. Not me. I fucking hated the whole thing; it made my skin crawl to watch it and I couldn't ever understand the appeal.

Anyway, it was supposed to be them "performing" in the comedy tent, and I allowed myself to be overwhelmed by peer pressure and reluctantly agreed to go along to watch this nonsense.

"Unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond our control, The Jim Rose Circus Side Show will be unable to perform for you this afternoon" is a rough approximation of what the nervy fella on stage mumbled before legging it to a chorus of boos.

It was a bit rainy out and the disgruntled masses that had packed themselves into the small tent hung around to see what act might be brave enough to step into the blood stained shoes of the cancelled freak show.

The grumbling and agitated murmuring subsided at the first signs of movement on stage. The feeling of excitement was palpable and the throngs watched with rapt attention as various mics and instruments began to litter the stage. There was an expectation among the blood thirsty crowd that would never be realised, and so it was that the loudest chorus of boos and jeers I've ever witnessed met the eventual arrival on stage of the big eyed, slick 'haired' paper mache head of Frank Sidebottom.

The poor fucker. He'd barely bumbled his way through his opening gambit before the first burger bounced off his massive face. This wasn't a friendly crowd by any means, one must consider who they'd gathered to watch in the first place, but the presence of this second rate, gimmick ridden comedy songster seemed to unleash a feral quality in the crowd and his silly head soon bore the stains of never to be consumed fast food. A shoe and a fair bit of mud helped hasten his all too slow departure and the few remaining stragglers gave their only cheer of the set as he slunk away with his moon face hanging suicidally low.

I thought it best to keep it to myself that I'd actually enjoyed that far better than I ever would have done the likes of Mr. Lifto et al; this mob were looking for a scapegoat and I really wasn't willing to offer myself up for sacrifice.
( Moey, Fri 5 Jun 2009, 10:40, 1 reply)

a click
For the reason i hate that paper mache guy. Gives me the heebs
(phe, Fri 5 Jun 2009, 11:00, closed)