A yellow-and-red-striped big top stands in the field. Lines of parents with sugar-sticky children wait to be allowed inside, to witness the marvels of exotic worlds. With snakes, according to the garish posters that were plastered all over town for the last month.

Tracy, a buxom lady clad only in a thong and some strategically-placed golden stars, stares through a gap between the tent flaps. ‘There are an awful lot of young kids,’ she whispers to the tall man beside her. The man bends down and peeks over her shoulder. ‘Odd. Why would parents take their kids to an erotic show?’

Tracy shrugs and walks off to warm up for her poledancing performance. The man stays for another moment, then remembers he forgot to match keys to handcuffs. He sighs. They really don’t need a repeat of Summer 2013 when the local fire brigade had to cut nine handcuffs with boltcutters. The girls bitched for weeks over their broken fingernails. Although, after the visit by the hunks in uniform, quite a few girls decided to retire and become respectable fire brigade wives.

By the time the act is due to start, the performers are exasperated. The printers must have screwed up. Clearly the audience is not here for BDSM demonstrations and ways to spice up their marriage.

An adorable five-year-old blonde shouts, ‘Mommy, look at that tall man! He’s in his undies!’ Gasps and increased muttering are heard from the seated adults.

That does it. An executive decision is taken. Condoms are turned into balloon animals. Edible body paint is applied as clown makeup. Between all the performers, they don’t scrape enough fabric together to make one whole costume, but they improvise. Trash bags are accessorised with Japanese bondage rope.

Johnny juggles the glittery pink vibrators, and he only drops a few. The kids laugh hysterically when one begins buzzing and zig-zags across the tent floor with Johnny in hot pursuit. The thing isn’t called Rabbit for nothing as it nearly gets away.

In the break, kids line up to have colourful butterflies painted on to their faces. Tracy explains to the parents how to remove the green, yellow, and pink colour with makeup remover. Nobody mentions the glow-in-the-dark lube tubs littering the floor around the face-painting station.

By the end of two hours, the kids are tired and the adults happy. Some have a strange gleam in their eyes, and Tracy giggles as she spots more than one couple leaving hand-inhand. ‘I feel we’ve just become mainstream, don’t you?’ she says to Johnny.

Johnny laughs, shaking his head, and counts the takings for the night. It’s their first sell-out show in months

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