Wild Mouse Terror, Blackpool Pleasure Beach

The Wild Mouse is an entity that sprang from the loins of Satan and its life force is sustained by the sadistic pleasure it gains from terrifying anyone daft enough to climb onto its rickety frame and into one of its little tin mouse cars.

Oh, it looks innocuous enough. Cute, even.

Like a roller coaster for beginners, the tiny, sugar-coloured cars bearing hand-painted mousy names like Jerry or Lulu or Minnie.
‘Ha!’ you say with chest-swelling bravado. ‘Ha. It’ll be a doddle, this.’ And you beckon to your family: ‘Come on folks, all aboard.’  They hop on, smiling, anticipating a few minutes of wholesome fun. And within about ten seconds, your well-adjusted, happy family is reduced to a blur of flailing limbs and anguished howls, barely audible over the hissing and rattling of the sadistic, Satanic creature.

And the Wild Mouse entity exploits this terror with relish. It knows what its doing. Oh yes.

It deliberately makes ominous creaking noises as the cute little mouse cars are cranked upwards, and titters to itself as worried expressions begin to appear. It cackles inwardly when everyone lets out their first shriek as they’re catapulted towards the 90 degree bend, jolting them sideways right at the very last minute before they hurtle downwards at the speed of a gunshot.  By this time the Wild Mouse is cackling insanely but nobody hears it because they’re too busy screaming and hammering to get off.

But they can’t get off.  The Wild Mouse has other plans.

Round and round go the sobbing, rattling occupants in their little tin cars. Again and then again, getting higher each time until the final tortuous descent into hell where the Wild Mouse devil creature bumps everyone to a rib-shattering halt next to the grinning man at the controls.

Traumatised yet relieved to have survived the clutches of this playground manifestation of Satan, everyone smiles bravely at each other.

Shaking, you try to climb out of the cute little mouse car but you’ve got your bottom stuck and it hits you that you will have to spend the rest of your life walking round with a smiling, pink metal mouse called ‘Jerry’ wedged to your backside.

Meanwhile, in the fiery place downstairs, Satan is purring with triumph as he picks up a piece of chalk and strolls across to the Wild Mouseometer to notch up his most recent  victims.

English: The Blackpool Pleasure Beach Wild Mou...

Blackpool Pleasure Beach Wild Mouse.(Photo credit: Wikipedia) Apparently the only ride never to have had an accident. And very popular it is too (with braver souls than I).

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  1. Pingback: Blood on the walls in Blackpool and I really must buy a new bra. | Stockings and Snorkels

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