Uncle Chuckles is a source of joy and laughter wherever he goes! Okay, so the laughter is mostly directed at the times when a big man uses his face as an automated fist polishing kit, and the joy comes from the fact that at least the crowd aren't Uncle Chuckles, but that still counts! It definitely still counts! Probably!

We've never met anyone like us, you know. Someone who was compelled to suffer like this. But of the people we do meet, and of the people who don't try to kneecap us with rusting agricultural equipment, a lot of them say they couldn't cope if it was them. That they'd go completely mad. That they'd just end up screaming naked at the bad moon rising over them and going WHY! WHY ME! WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE ME?

And maybe it's all the kicks to the disappointment churro over the years, or maybe we really did go mad, but that's not how we think about it. We're not like that. You know how we think about it? At least it's only us. At least it's not someone who wasn't used to getting hurt already. At least it's not someone anybody'd miss. We'd rather get pounded into the turf of a Blood Bowl pitch and used as tees for the world's worst golfers - again - than see this happen to normal people, or someone vulnerable, or gods forbid a child. Because we might be compelled to suffer and feel unrelenting pain, but hey, that's showbiz.

If we get another win, we're going to pool the money and go to a real circus. We'll have apples dipped in sugar and plums dipped in sugar and bread products dipped in sugar and then deep-fried. Yes, they're not good for your teeth, but neither is being smashed in the gob by a giant lizard and we've had to deal with that loads. We'll sit in the big top. We'll gasp at the trapeze artists doing incredible stunts. We'll be agog at the amazing bravery of the lion tamer. We'll stand in awe and amazement at the man taking a sledgehammer to the chest while lying on a bed of nails and wonder how they knew what had happened to Uncle Chuckles last Thursday. But you know what we'll do most, and do with all our hearts?

We will cheer and whistle and raise the whole damn roof...

For the clowns.