I believe in fate. I believe that the universe bends itself around me, because I am important. Nothing is trivial, once it has been perceived by me - when I clap eyes on something, it becomes a part of my destiny, because I am… well, I’m an intergalactic nexus.

So, when I found this flyer on the pavement, I knew that life had already written my future, and to fight it would only end in tragedy. What follows is select transcripts from my time with the Boppin’ Bunnies.

DAY ONE: SIGNING UP

Me: Hi. I’m here to join the Boppin’ Bunnies.
Mrs Shepherd: Excellent. We accept children from nought to five.
Me: I am threety-four. This will do, for your purposes. I will require exclusive use of a lavatory cubicle and vigorous affection. Here is my coat, don’t look in the pockets.

DAY TWO: JOINING IN

Michelle: Do you like horses?
Me: They are the best of all the animals, Michelle. You know that.
Michelle: You’re big.
Me: Fuck you.

DAY THREE: SONG AND DANCE

Stephanie: Why aren’t you clapping? This is the clapping song.
Me: Yeah, and this is the finger I’ve had up in my arse.
Stephanie: Aarrr! That’s a rude word!
Me: It’s a rude finger, baby. It’s a rude fucking finger.

DAY FOUR: A REVELATION

Me: It says here, you were formerly known as Jive Bunnies.
Mrs Shepherd: Yes.
Me: Why’s that then? Why’d you change it?
Mrs Shepherd: We… can’t say.
Me: I smell hot goss, and it’s coming from your pants. Spill, bitch. Scream!
Mrs Shepherd: Seriously, I’d be up to my tits in trouble if I said owt.
Me: SCREEAAAAAMM. SCREAAMMMM. screamscreamscream
Mrs Shepherd: OK I’ll tell you. The name was stolen from us by Angelina Stonebra, the leader of our bitterest enemies. God didn’t give their pre-school playgroup a name, so they stole ours.
Me: I’m going to get your name back, even if it means punching a three year old in the knickers.
Mrs Shepherd: If you do this for us, I’ll hoist up my petticoat and give you a two minute trolley dash.
Me: You know I said never to look in my coat pocket?
Mrs Shepherd: Yes?
Me: You can look in my coat pockets now.
Mrs Shepherd: It’s a packet of Rennies!
Me: You can have one if you want.

DAY FIVE: IN THE LAIR OF THE ENEMY

Me: Hi, I’d like to join the Jive Bunnies, please.
Mrs Stonebra: I’m afraid there are no vacancies. We have all the children we need for our dark sacrifice tonight.
Me: GASP

DAY SIX: THE AWESOME VOCABULARY OF THE HECATOMB

Me: So…  we wait until she’s killed all the children?
Police: Yeah. Otherwise she’d just say they were strapped to that dais as part of a game.
Me: Oh look! She’s just plunged a kris into that one’s chest. Shall we arrest her?
Police: Nah. It’s got to be unreasonable force. That one had it coming.
Me: I hope this builds into a satirical take on how the justice machine only moves to action when a white, middle-class girl is threatened.
Police: That would be politically sweet. Let’s do that.

DAY SEVEN: THE THRILLING CONCLUSION

Mrs Shepherd: Everything is as it should be, thanks to Log.
Me: Rennies for everyone!
Police: I’m afraid there have been some serious developments. I’d like you to accompany me…
All: Uh-oh!
Police: …to Alton Towers, where Mylene Klass will be giving everyone medals.
All: Cheer!
Me: Hang on… not Myleene Klass, the notorious medal thief?
Police: That’s her!
Mrs Shepherd: Here we go again!