Goose Fair, as we all know, is a time where Dads and Sons come together and share a common experience of manliness, rather like Field Of Dreams (even though Kevin Costner's old boy was actually dead. But you know what I mean).
However, as I've already pointed out in a previous article, Dads will do anything to get out of going, and once they're there they do nothing but mither about the price of this and how much of a rip-off is that. Tsk. Obviously, there had to be something that both parties could enjoy. That something, for many years, was the Snake Woman of Bombay.
Like all good sideshows, the Snake Woman of Bombay was all things to all people (except other women, who generally gave it a miss for obvious reasons). To your average youth, in the days before pet shops went all exotic, it was your only chance to see a real-life snake without having to go to a zoo. So what if she wasn't actually a genuine snake-woman, who ate guinea pigs and slithered about? There it was, right in your face, separated by a half-inch of glass. Cor.
Your Dad, on the other hand, didn't give a dog's arse for the snake. In the days before pissed-up women in town lobbed their jubblies out at the slightest provocation, it was his only chance to have a proper gawp at a dolly bird in a bikini while the missus wasn't there. So what if she had a veil over her face? There she was, right in your face, separated by a half-inch of glass. Fworr.
It was an absolute stroke of genius, that sideshow. Punters a-plenty, minimal outlay, maximum profit, and whenever the snake needed summat to eat, all you'd have to do was pop over to Mousetown and say "Yer gorrany dedduns, mate?" Money for old rope.
However, one thing started to bug me as I grew up; why is the Snake Woman of Bombay white? Was she an albino? Had her skin turned pale due to years of snake-related terror? Was she actually not from India at all? Was - gulp - Goose Fair lying to me?
Years later, when I left school, and ended up on the dole, I learned the truth. By the end of September, the local Job Centre was always full of crappy Goose Fair jobs, but one card on the wall leapt out at me; Wanted: `Snake Woman'.
After a through investigation, it turned out that, every year, they'd get another local woman to do the job. Apparently, it was a secretary from Bulwell for a few years. No matter who it was - Arts student from Bridgford, part-time model from Carlton, single mum from Mapperley - the nearest any of them had been to Bombay was when they picked up an order from the local curry house.
Still, I don't hold this act of fraudulence against Goose Fair. After all, who'd pay money to see the Snake Woman of Bestwood?
Next: The Giant from Scotland!
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