Halloween Special 2002

There was a young man, whilst shopping did stand,Still on the ground with his bags in his hand,Staring in wonder and horror, 'tis true,For just then there was something he knew,All of a sudden a bold sensation, he had come to the realisationClowns are a pestilence upon this land.He told his friends, he told his colleagues,But soon they avoided him and his follies,'Pish and tush' they did say, dismissing offhand,his claimClowns are a pestilence upon this > land Soon friendless and penniless himself he did find, No kind of stranger would take the time,Despite his efforts no-one would listen.'Pay attention to me! I'm trying to make you understandThat clowns are a pestilence upon this land!'But no-one would listen and then before long his wits were missing,Ranting and raving to himself and the world,The truth he knew and as time whirledHe grew older and the conundrum his brow would crease,So one day, whilst burning some clown regalia,Stupid shoes, red noses and other paraphernalia,In a fit of insanity, or perhaps it was genius,He knew that way that he must free usThe next day in the shops once again he did stand,But now a sadder and a wiser man,He saw the clown entertaining the people,And resisting the urge to curl into a position foetal,He took a weapon in his hand and struck down this vision of the pestilence upon the land.He ran far away, his mood was gay,The solution was near, his voice was clear,'Fear me all clowns, in cities and towns.You all I shall kill, this is my solution.'And that was now his mission, his resolution.How he evaded detection, who can tell?But for clowns this planet turned from heaven to hell.No fool was safe from this terrible plight,But strangely the clowns did not take flight.Every time a clown was removed,Then another, with vigour renewedWould appear with the rictus grin on its face,And take the fallen fool's place.The young man, although he is not so young these days,Became maddened, his eyes would dart and gaze.So much bloodshed across every nationKilling clowns wherever they did find a station,Until one day came no replacement.The tide had turned, he knew he was winning,For humanity this was a new beginning,Father, mother and child, hand in hand,Free of clowns, the pestilence upon this land.One day, as the sun was going downHe found the last, the final clown.It had been years of tracking, years of tracingBut he had known there was one still around.'I've found you' he murmured to himself,The unfamiliar sound of his voice was loud in his ears,It echoed through the city, now deserted for years.'You're mine, I've won,The deed shall be done.'He raised his weapon and quickly felled the last of the race whose story's here told,And then it fell quiet and he looked around.What was this place in which he was found?It looked familiar, the walls, the ground.It was the shops of his first contemplation,The place of his first revelation,But where were the people? The crowd? The sound?The place, the city, the world was empty,Death had consumed life with sharpest envy.And then he knew,As the make-up crept onto his face...For every clown that dies, Another must take its place.