Let us continue our stroll through the empty streets of the horror movie zombie-town that is Great Yarmouth out of season.
Maria commented yesterday that this emptiness freaks her out and I can understand why.
Walking around the piers accompanied by nothing but the disembodied and annoyingly tinny ghost of Elvis, singing just for me was kind of spooky.
Where do all the carnies go in winter?
Is there some kind of horrid, creepy nest of them lurking under the pier, cannibalising passing dog-walkers?
Other than the disembodied Elvis in a can, the only sign of movement came from this fish and chip "restaurant", staffed by a woman who seemed to be the only person left alive in the town.
I was on the point of going in to buy a cup of tea out of sympathy but she looked up as I paused in her doorway and her eyes made me shudder in a way that only The League Of Gentlemen's Papa Lazarou could match. I knew that if I went in, hordes of shrieking carnies would leap out of a back room and chomp down on my neck, vampire-style and make me one of them … or I could have been watching too much Buffy.
The vomit stain on the pavement outside was another cautionary sign.
You have GOT to click on this to blow it up and read the tawdry "z"-list of racist and sexist "comedians" who died in the seventies and returned in zombie form on Yarmouth's piers.What sin poor Elkie Brooks has committed to end up here can only be imagined with a shudder.
This truly is a new circle of Hell.
And talking of racism, this is a "camel race" booth on Britannia Pier.
Somebody should tell the carnies that mis-spelling "Mohamed" will not turn aside the wrath of al Qaeda.
A genuine gypsy caravan would have been nice, but a hut made out of old pallets doesn't have quite the same exotic attraction.Cross me palm with silver, dearie …
What made these tracks?The carnies come out at night to dance and perform their strange sacrifices on the beach.
Birdshit DiscoYarmouth out of season is a pit of tawdry, flyblown desolation.
The sheer sense of the pathetic is overwhelming.
More of the same coming up tomorrow.
The sheer sense of the pathetic is overwhelming.
More of the same coming up tomorrow.
27 comments:
Yes, do watch out, Dive. The carnies are still there, hiding their wiry bodies behind wooden slats and floorboards, curiously watching the Dives of the area who come to pry into their latent craziness, shut down for the winter. The tracks are made by their vehicle, invisible to you and i, which transports them to and from their underground fair, which exists only for them during this time. Ahahahhah (that's my wicked laugh). Brr. Boo! Good post, great photos!
Lynn; you're scaring me.
How do you know so much about the carnies?
You're not moonlighting as "Romany Petulengro" are you?
Hee hee.
this all may look cheap and tacky and scary out of season, but I get the idea it looks about the same IN season just with lots of people. Ew.
For some reason, people flock to the place all summer long to sit on the overcrowded beach, eat greasy chips and get drunk. The gypsy woman must put a curse on them so they only see the pretty lights and not the tat underneath.
No i am not a carnie, Dive. I cannot divulge how i know of their existence, let's just say i too once was snooping around an empty pier, treading with trepidation their well-worn, footfall-less boards, with much too enquiring a mind... LOL. I'm enjoying this.
we have none of this seasonal entertainment in australia. we're an entertain us 365 days a year kind of people.
Yep Kate,
Shall we go there dressed as carnies and catch Lynn and Dive dressed up as The Chuckie Bros, ("Every Wensdy nite at 7PM ), furtively devouring greasies and scaring the locals. You could be the ghost of Elkie Brooks and I could be the ghost of Roy Brown.
We could chuckle all over the pavement.
Let's practice our ghostly howls; the ones we use in Oz all the time.
You're on. You'll spot me : I'm the one in a tiara and faded coloured rags with a poodle, wearing a tutu, on a lead. Dive's all in black with leggings and a top hat with long, long pixie feet and he's very bendy.
Lynne! You've been peeking into my wardrobe!
Very bendy indeed! Hee hee hee.
As for you in a tutu? Photos, please!
Kate: Carnies all year round would be just too disturbing.
Monsieur B: That's a very scary thought indeed.
And as you can see from the photo, someone has already chuckled all over the pavement.
he he... no no it's the poodle who has the tutu on. Of course? Me in a tutu? I'd have to charge good money for that.
I have good money.
LOL. I'd also need my former figure. he he.
A feeling I know all too well, Lynn.
Sigh …
Tell you what,
I'll be the best man and Kate can be the matron d'honneur; only if we can dress accordingly !
Though a tutu would be very fetching. Perhaps we might swap roles. Would anyone notice?
A full moon would be mandatory, as would be bagpipes.
Can't wait to get to the UK, and see what my forebears got up to ! I'll be there in any case in August. Any day after Mon 25th.
Yikes!
You can't come in August; the carnies will be awake!
We will show them up, then....
Shall I bring my Digeridoo ? That would scare their pants off.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BYGbH50kWEw&feature=related
Much as I love the digeridoo, Monsieur, the thought of a pierful of carnies with their pants off is a truly terrifying one.
I often wonder what "real" fish n chips taste like. I am sure what we serve is not quite the same.
Real fish and chips can be a wonderful experience, Prudence. Regrettably, what gets served up to tourists is inedible at best.
Ooh fish and chips yes delicious, but not too often.
So carnies with pants off then. What's new? oh, is that just on the south coast?
It's all so empty and isolating. No screaming kids no vibrations and energy of the carni.
I for one am looking forward to summer - when everything in Great Yarmouth comes to life.
Mind you - you couldn't pay me enough to live there, but it's nice for a visit.
St Nicholas Church is the biggest in Great Britain and it's in Great Yarmouth! And who wants the best fish and chips? :)
joy
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Lynn: I couldn't resist. I stopped off at Thorpe Fish Bar on the way home (one of the two finest fish and chip shops in the East of England) and grabbed cod and chips, which I ate out of the paper and it was sublime!
I only do that three or four times a year, but there is something magical about traditional paper-wrapped fishy goodness.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.
Rich: Believe me, it is MUCH nicer in the winter. Wild horses tied to my testicles could not drag me to Yarmouth in the summer.
Joy: You are young and have not yet had the spirit of life and wonder sucked out of you by bitter experience.
Saint Nick's is indeed a magnificent church (bigger than a lot of cathedrals) and it has Anna Sewell's lovely house just outside, but the rest of Yarmouth sucks your soul dry.
And ME! I want the best fish and chips!
I could feel them peeking through the floorboards...
Brrr …
These pics remind me of Salisbury Beach in New Hampshire. Maybe it was supposed to be that way, huh, with all the cheesy, old attractions? Do teens drive around, "cruising," yelling out the windows to each other, trying to pick up a date (or a screw)? Or was that an 80's thing?
Hi, Katherine.
It was inspired by a post from Shazza (there's a link in the first one of the series) about her New Jersey beach in the winter.
Very similar!
And yes, they still cruise (as I confess to doing in the seventies … hee hee).
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