Waterloo carnival: endorsed by God, hated by Kids!

1:30pm, 3rd July 2015 – Lower Marsh

“Smile. Come on smile. Jump up and down a bit” said the teacher to the kids. It’s Waterloo carnival.

Recently trained and legally obliged to inform upon any nine year old not fully appreciative of British Values, the teachers are understandably jumpy. Who knows where not jumping up and down on command might lead.

There were some people in amazing costumes. Adult people with big feathers, big grins and little old bums by the bus pass load. There were actors plugging a local show. These efforts contrasted with the majority of processioners, kids dressed in hastily cribbed wraps of colour. One class simply sported white sheet togas over school uniform. What unchallenging and uncreative crap. No wonder the kids mostly looked way less than completely uninterested. Smile! Jump! An overweight copper sweating in the heat was eyed fearfully. A riot van approached. Wether to deter preteen terrorists smoked out by the newly trained NASUWT stasi operatives or more to fuel our fears as the state plans to bomb Syria was not clear. Hands up who knows it doesn’t matter ’cause it’s all the same thing!

Oasis, the carnival promoters, founder Steven Chalke, self proclaimed “visionary pioneer, entrepreneur, local church and community leader” suggests we are the problem that needs to change. Apart from us things are just fine.

Some procession. Teachers implored youngsters to smile! Jump! Don’t forget the great flood of Kennington! Chaulke was beaming his big beamy smile. Blokes in bibs stood crucifix like to barricade any potentially terrorising youngster from jumping onto the wrong side of the road. And so we all walked round the block.

Such unfun by state decree, managed by a charity, to help sell locally caught seafood, to weed out potential preteen trouble makers. Expect an SE1 picture of happy adults kissing jolly policemen alongside a beaming Chalke. That’s what counts in this soulless hell. Perception. Worse than drugs according to my neighbour Angie.

The bottom line? Most of the carnival wouldn’t have been there unless they were forced to attend.

Miserable kids, overbearing security and bad drumming. All over in a constable’s jiffy. This was not a carnival. It was people in rubbish fancy dress herded a few hundred yards to give the appearance of community. Smile! Jump! Hands up any terrorists!

Miserable kids in the road.

Miserable kids forced to walk in the road.

I edited the fourth par to remove a misplaced confidence I had originally engineered for argument.



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