This is hell on earth – everything that is wrong with the world pressed into a few hundred square metres, and a good proportion of the world’s population pressed in with it.
Blaring music, screaming crowds, fat families stuffing their faces with fatty food, spruikers selling the chance to win fluffy toys, plastic weaponry and shooting galleries marketed as fun, gaudy design, flashing lights, whining kids and harrassed parents appeasing them by buying them junk.
Is this where it starts – our quick-fix throw-away culture, our obesity, our gambling addiction and our willingness to sit on our butts while someone takes us for a ride?
Ordinary Australian families are doing it tough, so we can’t afford action on climate change, but we can find a few bucks for fairy-floss, big dippers and Scooby-Doo dolls. We’ve got the kids to think of, after all.
Am I missing something here? Am I turning into a grumpy old man?
The kids love it, don’t they? Our grandchildren were having a good time until the Tyrannosaurus Rex balloon popped. “Let this be a lesson to you, boys. You see, balloons are a kind of symbol for the ephemeral nature of pleasure…”
The noise is getting to me. Perhaps if I could press the mute button and just look…
…no, sorry, it’s not working.
“Hey, how about we go back and look at the baby goats – they were fun, weren’t they?”