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The clown is driving.  That’s the first problem.  He always goes too fast.  The monkey jumps onto his back, startling him.  That’s the second problem.

“Famous popstar Peggy waves to her adoring fans from her trademark pink cadillac…What’s happening…” The voice comes from the speaker overhead, “…the car seems to have a life of its own.”

I drift wildly to the left and hear Peggy squeal.  ‘I don’t have a life of my own, it’s the clown’s fault’ I want to shout, but the only sound I make comes from my tyres squeaking across the smooth surface. Peggy’s headscarf comes loose and flutters slowly, slowly to the ground behind us as I speed on.  The clown tries to straighten up but over corrects and I careen over to the right.

“She can’t seem to stop….Noooo.”

Ahead of me the castle looms but I can’t do anything. Armoured soldiers look down from the battlements on us in silent horror as we smack straight into the wooden wall.

The clown abandons the remote control and wobbles towards us on his rounded bottom.  The speaker on the shelf falls silent as Teddy drops his microphone and races across the tiled shop floor.

Peggy lies back in my driver’s seat, one side of her plastic face dented inwards and with one of her blink-able eyes stuck in the closed position.  She can’t be sold anymore.  It’ll be off to the reject bin for her.  ‘Me too’ I think sadly.  Who’d buy a remote controlled pink Cadillac with a huge crack all the way up one side?

Dame Barbara

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