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recognise him straight away. It’s not because I’ve seen him on TV. It’s his clothes that are familiar. The red blazer and the grey trousers. It’s the bloke we saw outside Happy Valley, smoking. The one who looked like a sex offender.
    â€œHow are you doing?” he bellows. He’s picked up a microphone on a stand from somewhere but he hasn’t managed to switch it on. He fiddles for a while, then tries again. “Whitbourne Wonderland - how are you doing?”
    There’s a sort of grunt from the crowd, but it’s good enough for Vic.
    â€œBefore we go any further,” he says, “I’ve got someone I want you all to meet. He’s my cheeky partner in crime, the kiddies’ favourite. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, here he is, the Wonderland Holiday And Leisure World mascot, Benny the Bear.”
    The music for Teddy Bears’ Picnic comes on, a door opens over by the bar and a man in a furry suit and dungarees starts to make his way through the audience, dancing around, patting people on the head. Benny gets to the front and hauls himself onto the left-hand edge of the stage as the music fades out.
    With Benny’s grand entrance taken care of, Vic launches into his spiel.
    â€œWhat do you get if you cross a mouse with an elephant?” he barks.
    There’s no response. I can hear a few groans. Vic’s stepping from foot to foot, desperate to deliver the punchline. He’s got a burn mark on the shoulder of his blazer, like someone’s stubbed a fag out on him.
    â€œBig holes in your skirting boards,” he says.
    There’s a faint sound of laughter from the far right corner, but as I look across, I see that it’s because a bloke in an Arsenal shirt has spilt his pint all over his trousers.
    George rolls his eyes.
    â€œWhen was this bloke on the TV?”
    â€œ Sunday Night at the London Palladium, 1973 ,” Robbie says.
    George laughs.
    Robbie’s expression doesn’t change.
    â€œI’m not joking.”
    Fifteen minutes into Vic’s act and things are pretty grim. Because it’s a family show, Vic’s material is on the limited side. There’s the odd mother-in-law joke, but cabaret-type stuff and sexual references are definitely not on the agenda. The latest gag involves Mickey Mouse, Minnie Mouse and a rabbit-shaped jelly mould. A couple of the kids near the front are crying. Sections of the crowd look like they’re losing the will to live.
    Some people are having fun though. The over-sixty-fives are lapping it up. It took them a while, but now they’re all well away. One woman over to the far left is in hysterics. She’s honking and bellowing like a sealion, slapping her hand against her knee.
    Dylan looks at me.
    â€œTell you what,” he says. “If she keeps on like that, she’s going to burst her colostomy bag.”
    Vic’s routine drags on and on. While he’s going through his repertoire, Benny the Bear is cavorting at the side of the stage, interacting with the under-fives. He’s having a bad time. At one point, a little lad creeps up behind him and squats down while his mate goes in front of Benny and pushes him backwards. Benny goes down hard and his head nearly comes off, but he springs back up and carries on bouncing around.
    Ten more minutes and the show is finally finished. There’s a bit of half-hearted clapping from the bulk of the crowd, and a standing ovation from the bus-pass-holders. Vic and Benny take a bow. The bloke who spilt his pint has stripped down to his pants now, and he’s dancing in front of a couple of women in matching Over Forty and Still Naughty T-shirts. He’s grabbing his crutch and swinging his hips backwards and forwards. It seems to be going down well.
    Vic starts gesturing for the clapping to stop. It already has.
    â€œThank you, thank you,” he’s saying. “You’re too kind, you really