Hello readles deedles,
I do apologise. It’s been quite a while since I bought you Volume 1 of the Former Clown Chronicles. If I was to be feeling really honest, I’d tell you I completley forgot about it. But I’m not really in an honest kind of mood, so I’m going to say it was on hiatus.
Right. Now that that’s cleared up, here it is, returning from it’s hiatus- the Former Clown Chronicles. Volume 2. My effort to change the world, one blog post at a time, by instructing the greater public on the finer points of clown etiquette. So pay attention, please. This may be the most important thing I ever do. Sad but true. OK?
So here ’tis. Again. A few more things I betcha never knew about party clowns.
We really hate it when you mow the lawn the day before the party. I know, I know, it’s the Aussie thing to do- Dad gets out the afternoon before the party (or, heaven forbid, the morning of the party) and gives the lawn a good trim to make it look all spic and span for the guests. Clowns hate that. Why? Because a freshly mowed lawn means very spiky grass. Which meas we end up making approximately 600 hundred balloon swords for 15 kids in the two hours we’re there. You get me?
When we say “What balloon animal can I make you?”, don’t ask us for a 19th century carousel. You may think you are being clever, dropping an obscure Simpson’s reference. You ain’t. Believe me, we’ve heard it a hundred gazillion times. As well as the one about the elephant trunk pointing upwards *nudge, nudge, wink, wink, roll eyes*.
We just can’t face paint Superman to a seven year old’s satisfaction, no matter how hard we try. Because kids are never happy with just the ‘S’ symbol painted on their cheek, and what else can you do? Superman really just looks any other bloke. And glasses are for Harry Potter. Help us out here. We are clowns, not miracle workers.
And the worst thing you can do is… call out “Food’s up!” when your friendly party clown is halfway through a magic show. There is nothing more devastating than working hard to capture and keep the attention of baby Gen Y-ers with their attention span all fused out by sugar and excitement, then having a well meaning adult announce that frankfurts, sausage rolls and tomato sauce have just appeared. Give us five minutes. It will save the kids burning the roofs of their mouths scarfing down hot party pies. And you won’t be held responsible, in the eyes of the clown, for killing the magic.
Which is a good thing. After all, we can be pretty scary creatures.