Vampires not welcome

With the Geisha tent pushed back til 9 we catch some rather yawn hip-hop on the outdoor stage before diving into the A Rum Do Spiegeltent for the Victorian delights of Come Into My Parlour. Maybe it's the chaos of mirrors but it's hard to keep up. More like 30s night at Cafe Rouge, only nobody's drunk enough to find it any fun.

Earlier we tried to persuade two of their men to go and freak out some blokes tripping on acid. In exchange they showed us their "lady pleasurers": a tickler made from the pubic hair of 3000 flamingos (or five quids worth of Claire's Accessories) and something that apparently requires a drill to make it work. "It requires a delicate hand," said its inventor, resplendent in white face paint and funeral dress. "Lady or gentlemen, we don't generalise." Either way, Aloud runs far, far away before we get introduced to Messrs Black and Decker.

A cluster of mournful soot-coated children are now handing round lavender. We're getting horrible flashbacks to our brother's school version of Oliver Twist. Better that than The Water Babies. Oh god, The Water Babies...