His personal fresh hell now consists of endless 80s pop songs and the UK Top 40 on repeat, night after night, as he is ‘ridden’ by drunken louts who develop a vague feeling of unease immediately after mounting Him. What were the horrors that befell the fairground, which caused Him to be torn so viciously from His garish prison of gear work galloping? The only evidence that remains of this time is a jagged, badly painted over hole from the evident dismantling of... something. Maybe it is this mysterious air that evokes faint terror in the hearts of the club’s patrons.
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