**This is about a Haunted Attraction – I’m not going to give too much away but there will be spoilers here…there won’t be photo’s either as it was a rule of the event**
Alternative title: Farmageddon…because nothing says Happy Halloween quite like shitting your pants.
“I’m going to skin you” the girl whispers in my ear.
“With that knife?! You’ll need a sharper one for a clean cut” I whisper back.
“And you will bleed” she tells me.
I nod in agreement, can’t really fault her logic there.
“I’m going to skin you…and eat you” she murmurs.
“And I guarantee I’ll taste nasty” I smile.
I’m in the Meat Locker, the woman in front of me is screaming bloody murder, her hubby has legged it into the darkness…and I’m befriending the followers of Malachi.
“You’re not supposed to make friends with them” M tells me as I turn down a cockroach from another creature.
“I was just telling her I’d chewed on a bit of severed leg in the other room so don’t want her cockroach” I say, as though such conversations are perfectly normal.
Farmageddon is a haunted attraction that comes with warnings for those of a nervous disposition, something designed purely to induce squeaky bottom moments. Strangely I’m more comfortable walking around these buildings in the dark, talking to peculiar creatures about their choice of nibbles and having monsters murmur that they will condemn my soul to hell (that isn’t new) than I am having a nice sit down meal with a group of people.
There wasn’t a little car, or balloon animals, or cream pies, or any of the happy crap that is associated with clowns…oh no, but there were chainsaws and the smell of petrol. It was like a morbid fun house complete with Santa-Clown (he asked if I wanted to sit on his candy cane, I told him it was the best offer I’d had all day and M ushered me away). As we left that section the group infront of us shrieked and ran as a chainsaw wielding clown lurched out of the darkness towards us.
“Kill her first!” I heard M say as he pushed me towards the clown. The clown stopped infront of me, I stood my ground, he revved the chainsaw at me….I smirked…he gave a slightly bemused look before realising there were people behind us and selected his new victims.
“I can’t believe you pushed me infront of the chainsaw clown” I teased.
“I was saving myself” M said with a giggle.
“I won’t forget that by the way….just you wait!”
(I mean it M, when the zombie apocalypse happens don’t come crying to me).
Terror on the Farm teamed M and I up with some scouse lads with very sensitive dispositions…the lad infront of us screamed, pushed his terrified girlfriend into walls, repeated the phrase “nah mate” and managed to crush my feet during various escapes. The lad behind us shrieked “foooookin’ ‘ell!” pretty much the whole way round…even when it was just a dimly lit corridor.
It was hilarious! I love being in groups that contain scaredy cats, their reactions just make the events so much more fun.
I think the scariest part of the whole evening happened before it even really began, when I was queuing (us British queue best!) to use the toilet facilities (which were amazingly clean by the way – I’ve been in 5* restaurants with bogs not up to this standard!) when a girl waddled through the door (her knees together, left arm out for balance, right arm around her stomach) and said in a disturbingly calm way…”I think it was a blow out”.
Needless to say I let her go first…and her response of “ah damnit” was all the confirmation those of us outside of the stalls needed in order to confirm that she had indeed had a blow out.
Anyway, I think M and I will definitely be back at Farmageddon next year for more befriending of monsters!