"16 inches of ick."

Who can resist a good old fun fair? Not me and New Girl, that's for sure. Last night we took ourselves off to the Osborne Park Fun Fair. Which probably always needs to be written thus:

Osborne Park Fun Fair!

Our first order of business upon entering the gates was to get a hot dog. I was so hungry I took a bite of mine before we'd even considered a photo. I ruin it for everyone.

What I love about hot dogs is how natural they look. The snack left us both feeling a little ill so we knew the evening was off to an appropriate start. There was loads of tasteful stuff for sale, or to win.

New Girl and I particularly liked the wild promise of this sign.

There were scary rides which New Girl refused to contemplate because even above the screams and whirring she could hear the shonky workmanship as bolts worked themselves loose from crucial bits.

The fireworks were great.

It seemed like there could be no better end to an evening than to stop by the little stall selling 16-inch churros. New Girl had never had a churro before, let alone one that was 16 inches long. We walked back to the car, munching on our cinnamon-y pastries, continuing to marvel at our wonderful night. It was only when the last bite was taken that we realised 16 inches of deep-fried dough really is a little too much and now we were both sick to our stomachs. It seemed the only thing left to do was to retire to her place for a glass of wine and stare moodily at the walls.

Cranky and vomitous is the kind of condition every fun fair or royal show should leave you in. I can't wait until New Girl has kids and we can throw some red cordial into the mix.