They come in their hundreds, in families, with friends, in gangs and gaggles of noisy, excited youths, in troops of baseball-capped oldies, in hordes and herds and droves. They flock in from the countryside, they cross on over from the wrong side of the tracks, from uptown, downtown, round town. They come to the fair, the great, gaudy , light-flashing, booming, thumping, fun fair.

It is that time of year, when even those, who never stir from their holes, are sucked magically from the very deepest recesses of their dark shells, lured by the fun of the fair.

Orgasm guaranteed on a rolling ride, all cheap thrills, death defying deeds, spinning and whizzing, all up in the air. And if you’re feeling lucky, have a spin on the slot machines, the one arm bandits. All the fun of the fair, toffee apple, candy floss, dress to impress, out on the dazzle, out on the dazzle, out on the pull, too cool, not fool enough to get dented on the dodgems, I’ll just hang and chill and be seen . That’s the fair, and in my town, that’s fifty years , it’s been the same. When the fair hits town, summer has finally, and officially arrived.

Fair folk