"Step right up, folks. Come and see the amazing Cannonball Bob as he flies through the air! Come and hear the roar of the lions! Feel the shame of mighty beasts tamed for your pleasure!"

In Gregor's circus, it seems everyone is a clown

Hmm... this is how I found myself shanghaied from my morning's meanderings, deviated within moments of leaving the house. ‘A circus? Here? But I thought...'

"Step inside and marvel at the most extraordinary people in the country! Cry out in horror at the world's stupidest woman!"

The world's stupidest woman? Really? My interest piqued, I ambled in through the gates, parting with $17.50. I considered, briefly, fudging through my wallet for a pensioner's concession card I had ‘borrowed' during the week, but I know how little they pay elephants in situations like this (peanuts, I'm told). They could use all the cash I could give them.

I looked blearily around - the aural assault from the midget with the eyebrows had rattled me. I could barely focus. Such vivid colours. Such loud music! Such crowds! What the fuck?

The first tent I came to featured a startlingly coloured banner out front, its gaudy signage proclaiming it as the home of The Military Strongman. As I approached, a series of explosions shook the feeble frame, billowing the canvas out to near horizontal. Three men in orange coveralls, their faces hoodwinked, emerged at speed, hustling off through the assembled masses with the help of several hairy members of the public. From the gloom emerged a man in uniform, his obviously fake muscles straining the fabric of his uniform.

"GET INSIDE THE TENT YOU WORTHLESS MAGGOTS. MY NAME IS MAJOR GENERAL DETECTIVE SUPERINTENDANT SIR DOCTOR NELSON. I'M IN CHARGE OF THIS MAN'S ARMY. ME! NO ONE ELSE! ME! GET IT?..."

He cast his beady eyes over the crowd, and I felt a blush of shame as his peepers settled on me. He handed me a business card - the word "Parliamentary" had been hastily scribbled out, the word "Paramilitary" scrawled in its place, lending his status as "Advisor to the Ringleader" an even more sinister undertone.

"YOU! GIVE ME TWENTY!"

Without thinking, I assumed the position. As I began to pump my way through the unfamiliar task of push-ups, his screams got louder.

"WHAT THE FUCK? I WANT MONEY, NOT CALISTHENICS. THESE SHINY BRASS BUTTONS DON'T PAY FOR THEMSELVES..."

I scurried away. Major General Whatever the Hell Nelson was scaring not just me - also badly frightened was a crowd of clearly disadvantaged children that had also recently entered the grounds, their grubby faces and sad looks compounded by the fact that fully two-thirds of them flinched every time one of the sideshow rides issued a wheezy hiss or protracted rattle as it propelled its hapless passengers through time and space.

Without realising it, I found myself pushing through the front curtains of another tent, this one called The Cabinet. I figured it to be some sort of nightclub - Abba was being played at an ear-splitting volume through four cheap, all-weather speakers either side of the entrance.

Inside was a nightmare. A woman calling herself Lady Alexander was straightening the seam of her fishnet stockings by a well-stocked bar, laughing coquettishly at a joke whose punchline I had just missed. The gag's deliverer, a natty man in a hand-me-down suit bearing a nametag that said "Chris Pyne". His manner with Lady Alexander suggested that they were now, or had been once, more than just friends. Bless them...

A sign by a stage in the corner revealed the entertainment. Abbott and Costello! How quaint and vaudevillian. Taking a seat, I waited anxiously. This oughta be good.

Out they came, dressed in identical suits.

"I am here today to force my religious views onto your political ones" the skinnier of the two announced. The audience hooted its appreciation, like a pack of well-trained monkeys.

"I am just as much of a Christian as you, you ugly little pugilist," proclaimed the other. A collective ‘ooooooh' came from the audience.

The skinny one produced a truncheon, and like a deranged Punch and Judy show, he began to settle the two suits' differences the only way he knew how. It was a thoroughly violent exchange, each blow revving the audience up into a frenzy. It was too much... I stood up, shouldering my way past a man selling Ruddock brand cigarettes to two small children, and made my way through the door and out into the sunshine once more.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted a small floral tent, which sat gaily beneath a hand-painted wooden sign. It read: "I welcome all migrants, as long as they're Australian".

Wait... what? Further investigation revealed the tent belonged to the ‘Startling Miss P', the small print on the plaque outside proving most illuminating.

"Some say she's the world's stupidest woman. Others, whose voluptuous stupidity is only eclipsed by hers, hail her as a visionary. Either way, you're in for a laugh... Step inside the Tent of Xenophobia and prepare for the worst..."

The stench of old fish and chip oil was unmistakable, emanating in wafts that threatened to overpower the deep-fried cheese stands located nearby. I looked around cautiously - but it soon became apparent that I was the only one brave enough to enter...

The interior was not what I was expecting at all. The furniture had all been stolen from the set of Dancing With the Stars, and even included Daryl Somers working as the doorman, lurking just inside the tent flaps with a winsome smile.

"I can play the drums!" he beamed.

"Fuck off, little man. I'm here to see the lady..."

"Right you are, sir. Right you are... this way, please," he simpered, wringing his hands in a manner most obseqious.

A flag atop the Big Top

"Step forward. Ask me any question and I, the all-seeing fishmonger, will foretell your future and other things."

Her stilted delivery and the vacant look in her eyes belied the vulpine look of her face. To be honest, her down-home (read: subhuman) intelligence was indirectly quite charming. However, the fact that she paused, quite often, mid-sentence to take pot shots at Vietnamese children with a large silver revolver was quite disconcerting.

It was after a particularly haphazard volley of shots that I decided to abscond. The mounting pile of bodies (which by now included Daryl "The Little Drummer Boy" Somers) at the rear of the tent had begun to leak blood into the densely packed soil. It was all too much.

"PLEASE EXPLAIN" she roared as I leapt through the tent flaps. Two rounds from her .45 whistled past my ear. The last I heard from her was an intense jabbering about Aborigines. I'm not sure she likes them. You know, because she knows so many of them.

I purchased a Red Bull to calm my nerves. The toothless crone behind the counter cackled maniacally as she handed me not a lot of change from a crisp $5 note. She's obviously been drinking this stuff too...

The next stall was intriguing. A beige banner with foot-high fawn lettering announced that this was the home of "Tolerable Kevin: He's OK!" Surely in an environment such as this, Tolerable Kevin must be something very special indeed to not have to pimp and preen himself like a $3 whore in a $5 neighbourhood.

I entered the tent, only to find the interior mostly bare. A larger than life portrait of Tolerable Kevin sat behind an unadorned card table. The man Himself was there, sitting neatly, smiling beatifically, saying nothing.

"So..." I said.

"Yes..." he replied.

How very Zen.

"What's your story?" I asked. And he began to speak.

For 30 minutes, he talked non-stop, barely pausing to take a breath. And in that time, he managed to say absolutely nothing. As the minutes passed, I felt my temper beginning to betray me. Surely, someone in his position must have something to offer something like myself...

At minute 34 I snapped.

"Listen to me, you toad!" I exploded. "Take a look at yourself! You're a muppet - a cookie-cutter politician who hasn't had a genuine idea in his head for the past five years! The only reason you're in charge of your rag-tag little group is because you've got hair that can't be ruffled and all the personality of a cup of cold tea. You're unappealing. You're not even all that fucking smart. What's your story, I asked... and you told me nothing."

A shock of bright red hair that framed a waspish face and two of the largest earlobes I've ever seen appeared from behined the portrait, hastily took in the room at a glance, and disappeared once more.

"Who the fuck was that?"

He smiled his thin-lipped smile, and clasped his hands together.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. The last guy that had your job would have cried by now. The guy before him would have punched my lights out... and all you can do is clasp your hands?"

The hands remained clasped. My mind was made up. I took a deep breath, and slapped him. Hard. He remained unresponsive. A quick look under his chair revealed a small black box, atop which sat a flashing red light next to a black switch.

I flicked the switch, and Tolerable Kevin slumped ever so slightly in his seat. I knew it. The man was merely a carnival toy, cheap animatronics designed to delight the idiots amongst us while the circus' professional pickpockets worked their magic lightening our wallets.

I left in disgust.

I was making a beeline for the front gate when I found my final stop for the day. There, in a far, distant corner of the grounds was a bark humpy, surrounded by a haze of light blue smoke. A simple sniff of the air revealed a scent not unlike the interior of a Kombi van. Sweet, acrid bong smoke combined with body odour and rotting cheesecloth.

"We're the Greens, Man... Come on in, Man... We're saving the planet, Man..."

Yep - by smoking it, one hapless hallucinogenic plant at a time, right? Right...

You can imagine, then, how astonished I was when I entered the humpy. The bong smoke and BO was a ruse. Inside, it was as slick as Hollywood situation room, with a veritable army of bespectacled, clipboard-clutching advisory staff all yammering for the attention of the Green Queen. He called himself Bob.

"Yes... it's a front," he explained as I turned slowly, slack-jawed, to gawk at the set-up. "We like people to think of us as slightly backward, degenerate hippies - contempt breeds familiarity, as we like to say. The more disdain they heap upon us, the better for us - people simply stop paying attention.

"It's great," Bob enthused, taking me by the elbow and leading me over to their bank of nuclear powered computers. At least two of the machines were running stock tickers, and fully three of the screens were dedicated to maintaining an at-a-glance status of the pocket reactors buried mere feet beneath the surface of the earthen floor of the tent.

"How on earth do you fit all this gear in a humpy?" I asked.

"Simple spatial string-theory physics. That, and a couple of mirrors. They really make a room look bigger, you know..."

I'd had enough... the circus was mind-numbing. An information overload. A cavalcade of whimsical horror that no person, no matter how evil, should ever be forced to endure. Nature's own preconditioned responses - flight or fight - had done me no good. I had howled at these people, screamed until I was blue in the face. I had endured their postured lecturings, absorbed more than my fair share of senseless bigotry and even sat through a half-hour ‘conversation' that left me feeling like I'd been talking to smoke.

I bolted for the gate, only to find it barred by the dwarf with the megaphone. His rictus grin, coke-bottle glasses and shaggy brow gave him the look of a poorly carved jack-o-lantern, and it was only his Ringleader's velvet suit that lent him any credibility at all.

I stopped, and he took my hand in his withered grasp, looking me in the eye, and offering me the kind of pumping handshake that is only ever delivered by a true zealot in a shopping mall the week before an election.

"Come Back Soon?" He bellowed the statement like a question.

"Not fucking likely."

Research for this article was undertaken with the grateful assistance of Tourism Canberra. The Author would also like to point out that voting, for some strange reason, is compulsory in this country. Good luck with that.

[Article]Roll up, roll up for the greatest sham on earth kathryn    March 6th, 2007 - 7:36 AM Awesome article. I loved  - "So..." I said. "Yes..." he replied. How very Zen.  Very funny, i'm glad Gregor is back

Re: [Article]Roll up, roll up for the greatest sham on earth Fritz    March 6th, 2007 - 4:51 PM What a way to start the year gregor. Nice work.

Re: [Article]Roll up, roll up for the greatest sham on earth gregor    March 6th, 2007 - 7:04 PM Hi all... yeah - well. reading this back today, there are parts of it that even I don't really understand. but I'm pleased with it - it is a good way to start the year. mainly because it's loooooong.

Re: [Article]Roll up, roll up for the greatest sham on earth Biscuit    March 6th, 2007 - 7:17 PM I can't believe you paid $17 to get in!

Re: [Article]Roll up, roll up for the greatest sham on earth blue    March 7th, 2007 - 6:56 AM Nice. Disturbing... But nice. Welcome back Gregor. It's been too bloody long since you column writing types have given us something to read.

[Article]Roll up, roll up for the greatest sham on earth Stevie    March 7th, 2007 - 1:20 PM Trippy, man.

[Article]Roll up, roll up for the greatest sham on earth pseudonym    March 13th, 2007 - 9:00 PM Hey - nice work, Gregor.  It's great that the ABC finally gave you the ok for your 2007 junket.  Shame that it was to Canberra.  Better you than me, my friend.  Nym

[Article]Roll up, roll up for the greatest sham on earth unomomento    March 13th, 2007 - 11:14 PM yeah nice, i was wondering where all the columnists had gone....well the good ones anyway

Re: [Article]Roll up, roll up for the greatest sham on earth Alarm Duck of Awesomeness    March 14th, 2007 - 6:24 AM Heh...add some gratuitous violence and hard-core sex (use of the word "cunt" is encouraged) and you could have that published in one of them online sci-fi short stories sites.

Re: [Article]Roll up, roll up for the greatest sham on earth Mez    March 21st, 2007 - 8:37 AM I've only just read the article, Gregor.  Well done!  It was great to get such a big chunk of writing from you.  More!

Re: [Article]Roll up, roll up for the greatest sham on earth DiddlySquat    March 22nd, 2007 - 5:09 AM Quote from: The White Witch on March 14, 2007, 10:24:45 PM Heh...add some gratuitous violence and hard-core sex (use of the word "cunt" is encouraged) and you could have that published in one of them online sci-fi short stories sites. There's that word again........... http://www.amazon.com/gp/redirect.html?ie=UTF8&location=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.amazon.com%2FCunt-Coloring-Book-Tee-Corinne%2Fdp%2F0867193719%3Fie%3DUTF8%26s%3Dbooks%26qid%3D1174333803%26sr%3D8-1&tag=random-good-stuff-20&linkCode=ur2&camp=1789&creative=9325

Re: [Article]Roll up, roll up for the greatest sham on earth blue    March 28th, 2007 - 12:30 AM Quote from: DiddlySquat on March 22, 2007, 09:09:39 PM There's that word again........... http://www.amazon.com/gp/redirect.html?ie=UTF8&location=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.amazon.com%2Fderogatory term for female genitalia-Coloring-Book-Tee-Corinne%2Fdp%2F0867193719%3Fie%3DUTF8%26s%3Dbooks%26qid%3D1174333803%26sr%3D8-1&tag=random-good-stuff-20&linkCode=ur2&camp=1789&creative=9325 Ahh, I love the word filter. It seems to have eaten your link Diddles. There will be no filth sharing for you!

Re: [Article]Roll up, roll up for the greatest sham on earth Alarm Duck of Awesomeness    April 1st, 2007 - 8:50 AM And it looked so interesting, too... Heh...and there's no way to fix it...unless you link to a site that has a link or something.

Re: [Article]Roll up, roll up for the greatest sham on earth DiddlySquat    April 2nd, 2007 - 6:47 AM Quote from: The White Witch on April 02, 2007, 12:50:56 AM And it looked so interesting, too... Heh...and there's no way to fix it...unless you link to a site that has a link or something. Arrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhh I saw those little green letters but didn't twig as to their significance. Try this: http://www.amazon.com/gp/redirect.html?ie=UTF8&location=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.amazon.com%2F The C word goes here -Coloring-Book-Tee-Corinne%2Fdp%2F0867193719%3Fie%3DUTF8%26s%3Dbooks%26qid%3D1174333803%26sr%3D8-1&tag=random-good-stuff-20&linkCode=ur2&camp=1789&creative=9325 Copy the above into Notepad, make the appropriate change, put it all on one line and paste it into your browser's address bar. Personally I don't think it's worth the trouble, but it feels good to thwart the word filter.

Re: [Article]Roll up, roll up for the greatest sham on earth Alarm Duck of Awesomeness    April 4th, 2007 - 5:33 AM Actually, it linked alright from the comments section of the article itself, jsut not from here.

Re: [Article]Roll up, roll up for the greatest sham on earth DiddlySquat    April 4th, 2007 - 7:18 AM Quote from: The White Witch on April 04, 2007, 09:33:40 PM Actually, it linked alright from the comments section of the article itself, jsut not from here.