The hullabaloo, the lights, the excitement, the entertainment, the tricks, the illusions, the atmosphere, the bustling crowds, the catering, all the fun of the circus. But for Lewes the circus is over for now,
For many it feels flat. Like the atmospheric excitement of pre-Christmas dragging into the anti-climax of Boxing Day and the temporary escape of seasonal goodwill seamlessly tapering off to the moribund reality of life. It is all over for now. But life goes on.
The big showstopping finale over for now as the customers go off to the safety of their homes as the temporary escapism and sense of anticipation is sated.
As life gets back to normal off they go. As the customers reflect on the show lying in bed, still excited, the reality of the circus and circus folk kicks in. Overnight the big top is disassembled, the clanking dissipating around the field as the heavy rain falls.
As day breaks off the circus goes. The temporary home for so many people, the Dripping Pan, now just memories of a failed Circus, not happy or sad, it was just an experiment after all. Off go the leaders of the circus, Maggie, Tony and Scott in their electric motorhome. They had already let everyone know they were leaving like it was some earth shattering news, but nobody was that bothered, they’d had their time.
The clowns follow, crocodile tears smearing their makeup. The clowns were in charge of the business side, and they were not very good at it. They jokingly called themselves the board, well they are clowns after all! Soe of the clowns who didn’t really ‘get it,’ had already been leaving prior to the last night. They didn’t care. They had only come along for vanity and the adulation of the crowds. They did not live and breathe the circus and would go off and find some other organisation to bugger up.
The whisky flowed into the night as games of cards and gambling strengthened the resolve of the decent clowns as they saw the last night out with talk of coming back again next year, leaner and fitter.
Raystede, the local animal charity turned up early in the morning with all manner of animal transportation. They’d agreed to swap a lawnmower so the crowd favourite Roger the Groundman could return. A small group of animal rights activist were too late to get out of bed early enough to mount a protest against the circus and wondered off to the pub. Well, it was midday and strictly that is still the morning they mused.
The paid staff and paid entertainers wondered off intermittently throughout the day, they enjoyed the circus but also knew it was a financial shitshow and to enjoy the ride whilst it lasted.
‘Mummy,’ Josh enquired. ‘when will the circus come back again?’ It was time to break the news. Josh had spoken of little for the last month but the last night showstopper.
‘It will be different next time little Joshy’ explained the mother, ‘it will probably be a lot smaller and a lot less razzmatazz.’
‘A lot less deluded idiots involved too’ said his father under his breathe.
‘Do you promise it will be back?’
‘Of course, it is a fan owned circus and lots of silly people have got involved and now they are leaving so now some other people will give it a go,’
‘But it won’t look so good.’ A disconcerted Josh muttered.
‘Oh Joshy, what you will learn is that you can make anything look good if you throw lots of money at it. But if it does not work properly it was money wasted and not a real experience. Teddy ‘Chip’ Shoppe (geddit) the circus impresario kindly spent lots of money trying to make it work. But the people in charge were delusional and thought our circus was wonderful, so because they did they thought everybody else would and chuck their investment s and sponsorship deals into the ring.’
‘Well I hope the next people running the circus don’t let the community down again.’ Josh said matter of factly.
The Next Year.
As night follows day the circus did return. Not as you would imagine big circus extravaganza, but a Flea Circus.
It was much smaller but it was affordable. The volunteers returned, the true circus fans returned, the queues to the toilets and the bar receded and all the boorish hullabaloo around the last circus had dissipated. The people who weren’t from the area didn’t bother turning up but more locals did and the local businesses all helped to pay to put it on.
Circus Toxico had failed dreadfully, but there will always be a Circus at the Dripping Pan for people like Josh.
‘I really enjoyed it mummy.’ Josh had low expectations but was really pleased with the new circus. ‘It even smelt nicer.’
His dad smiled a wry grin and muttered to his wife, ‘that’ll be because all the crap they spouted has gone.’
The Rights of Fans. 