All the fun of the.

Do you know what I really miss? Of course you don’t, because I’m about to tell you, and it would be a pretty dull post if I were to ask you a question that you could immediately answer in the affirmative thereby rendering the entire subject of the post in question null and rather void.

But do you know what I really miss? (Rhetorical)

Going to the fair.

The smell of night-time and cheap hot dogs and teenage smoking. Obnoxious trucks full of really bad GCSE-level portraits of Cher in hotpants circa 1983. An air of fun you could spread on toast, goldfish and candyfloss in (separate, obvs) bags. That feeling of being close to your death that you just don’t get in theme parks, with their testing and their health and safety and their strict procedures.

You can’t beat that frisson from knowing that fat, sweaty tattooed pervert who just took your tokens spannered your seat together a matter of days previously with his own damp mitts. Man, you can’t beat that.