Tickets are printed on black paper, embossed with the red moniker

Of this park or terror and wonder, laughter and magic

Entry is through a hall of mirrors – reflecting both the hilarious and tragic

You leave without knowing if any of the images belonged in reality

Exit Dysmorphia and on to the next attraction –

To Bee or Not To Bee

An obstacle course distraction

Where you must avoid touching any bee icon any cost

Or a trapdoor will open sending you straight into hell –

Your sad demise signaled by a bell

Both your dignity and the game being lost –

Not for the faint-hearted the next is a ghost plane

Where you sit facing backwards to face passengers in pain,

Laid out on stretchers and hooked up to drips,

As you hurtle round backwards through the most horrific of trips

Themed after a journey the owner took at six

Having survived the ride you will enter the magical festival site

A myriad of festival simulations all in one price –

Be repulsed by fetid aromas piped through your nose

Or experience the thrill of being thrown over crowds

To get closer to bands nobody knows,

Enter the Find My Tent maze at your own risk –

It’s full of diversions and unimaginable tricks,

You could easily spend the whole day just on this game

And when you emerge nothing will ever be the same.