Youll be chased down the street by a man with a knife.
Blood will drip from ceilings onto your face.
If you scream loudly, theyll target you more.
Dont, whatever you do, go last.
And finally, youre not scared of clowns, are you?
The route to our first horror house takes us through one of the events outdoor Scare Zones.
Okay, its started now, someone tells us, this is it.
We progress gingerly through a park street, alert and drawing closer together.
Co-protective pacts are whispered from ear to ear.
Well stay as a group, wont we?
No-ones going to leave anyone behind, are they?
Of course not, we all reassure each other kindly.
I look down at my well-worn trainers.
I could leave you lot for dust in these, I think, happily.
Youre all zombie meat.
Diligently making sure Im flanked by scare-absorbing writers on each side, we enter The Purge zone.
And… hes not actually that frightening.
Im going to be fine, I think.
I survived a blogger in a poncho.
Its going to be a long night.
Soon, bona fide scare-actors dressed in masks are swarming through the crowds, periodically lunging at likely candidates.
I found out Im cowardly and lack resourcefulness.
Stilt-walkers stalk the streets, and crustacean-coated pirates lurch drunkenly in the road, spewing insults at passers-by.
Its like Bromley on a Saturday night I quip to a co-scaree to illustrate my worldliness.
I squeal at a static fire hydrant to illustrate that my worldliness is all a sham.
The next two houses feature creepy clowns and creepy dolls.
Adult babies with disproportionately sized heads ask winningly to be picked up and then lurch at you like cobras.
Barbies are stapled to walls, and the heads of Tiny Tears dolls decorate a doorway.
Just as the events ingenious creators are, Im already planning next years visit.
