>>>>>Killing Time<<<<<

Thrown in all directions on a rollercoaster at Pleasure Island, Cleethorpes. Yes, Cleethorpes. Desperate to create some kind of illusion, the theme park owners have taken to assigning national themes to different parts of the 'island' (it's not an island, it's somewhere off the M180). Hence, there's 'Old England', a bunch of chipboard constructions painted, via the miracle of emulsion, in a Tudor fashion, 'Morocco', which involves lots of trowel-marked plaster and a set of bumper cars and 'Spain', which is a food court in a wooden castle. After that, they obviously couldn't think of any more countries they wanted to pay tribute to and resorted to simpler stuff, like 'Kiddies' Kingdom' (a monorail that moves at speeds as great as 2mph) and 'White Knuckle Valley' (home to the headache-inducing Boomerang and lots of rides closed due to the weather conditions). It was freezing. That's a British spring mixed with Lincolnshire for you. Pleasure Island's main character is someone called Tommy Tinkaboo, who is, allegedly, a sweetmaker. His theme music is stolen from Snow White. And he doesn't make any real sweets, as the shop was crammed with Matlow's Refreshers and other such chewy/sour/fizzy nonsense. Once we'd got over the excitement we headed to a Brewer's Fayre pub for some lunch. Our 'waitress' got off to a great start by pouring a glass of Pepsi over us all, then ignoring M's dripping jeans to complain that "it's all gone in my shoe". She came back midway through to check if "everything is okay with...erm...what is it?" "Our meals?" "That's it!" She'll go far, that girl.