“Roll up, roll up!” called out the barker, as though he thought the crowd was an obstinate blind.   “See all the great horrors of the earth, gathered together under the same roof, for the first time ever…!”

“It’s all a jib, mister,” said the fair-haired boy, tugging at the sleeve of the man’s suit, as he stopped to listen to the spieler reeling off names as he pointed to obscure portraits upon an age-worn poster that was sewn onto the side of the great circus tent, before which he stood, upon a small, wooden dais.

“See the bearded lady…” he said, starting off small.   It was an old gimmick: the gradual building up to the main attraction.

“It’s been stuck on hair by hair,” said the boy.

“See the bird lady…!

“See the human fly…!

“See the lizard man!”

“All just fancy dress costumes, mister!”

“All the great horrors of the earth, gathered together under the same roof for the first time ever!” he repeated.   It was a well-rehearsed spiel that he knew by heart.

“See the bat creature…!”

“It’s a phoney, mister.   You can tell if you look real close.   Not that they ever let you get close enough to be sure.   They keep you well back, behind a rope.”

“See the beetle man…!”

“A phoney!” repeated the boy, more insistently than before.

“All the great horrors of the earth…!”   It was like a broken phonograph record.   “See Frankenstein’s monster…!”

“Monster me eye!   It’s a man dressed up!”

“See the legendary golem!   See the head of the Medusa…!”

“Both jibs,” insisted the boy, tugging at the man’s sleeve again.   “The golem’s just a man with mud slinged over him, and the Medusa head’s just a life-like puppet!”

“See the snake lady…!”

“The scales are glued on!”

“See the panther man from deepest, darkest Africa!”

“Anyone can throw a panther skin over himself and say he’s a panther man.”

“See Joseph Merrick, the Elephant Man himself, on display for the first time anywhere in the world in more than ten years … All for the price of two shillings; one small florin.”