The saying goes, never work with animals or children. I can now confidently add milk to the list. On paper, my job is fraught with potential disaster around every corner. The unpredictability of children and their brutal honesty. "Your face is funny," "Why is your nose so big?" "You're rubbish," "Your dancing / singing / magic is terrible." I could go on. Then there's the behaviour: wild swinging limbs coming at me from every angle. I've been punched, kicked, spat at, had a water bottle thrown at my head, someone even threw up over me. That's just the Grandparents I've come across, the children are worse!!

As for animals, I don't need to go through all of Mango's antics. OK, I will then as you're asking. He steals my sister's flowers, constantly bites my nose and face, (playfully of course, no need to call the R.S.P.C.A. or police). He insults me, combs my hair really badly and to cap it all, he brushes toothpaste all over my face. Frankly put, he's a nightmare. He's also my best friend though and I wouldn't be without him. It's a lot for a Banana Head to put up with, I'm sure you'd agree.

Until three weeks ago I didn't think anything else could mess up my party experience. I was sadly wrong. I have a magic trick where I pour a jug of milk into a newspaper on top of a parent's head. The milk then disappears into their brain and the birthday Banana Head saves the day by getting it out of their brain before their head explodes with rancid milk everywhere. It's been in my fridge for 5 years so you can imagine the stench. I keep the jug filled with milk at the bottom of my roll on table, all ready for the big moment. Then, three weeks ago on a seemingly normal Sunday morning........

Everything was set up, it was almost 3pm and I was ready for the children to arrive. I walked from the back of my table to the front and somehow my foot got caught underneath it. In what felt like slow motion, the whole table fell forwards and crashed to the floor, my hopes and dreams of a good party along with it. In a desperate and as it turns out futile attempt to stop it, I lurched forwards and my left knee went in a direction it wasn’t meant to. This resulted in me shrieking in pain in a way that would likely attract dolphins, killer whales and aardvarks. The whole jug emptied over everything in my box. I didn't panic but a little part of me died inside and I wanted to cry. I used my towel to mop up what I could and stood the table up. Huge swathes of it had dripped underneath the box and was now spurting out of the sides onto the floor. Meanwhile, half the children had arrived and were standing in front of me looking confused.

I grabbed enough kitchen roll to cover a small yak and cleared up the best I could. I borrowed some milk from the birthday parents and reset everything like a speedy ninja. I also made sure my feet moved very slowly and nowhere near the bottom of the box. For the next hour I carried on as normal whilst continuously slipping on the never ending puddles of milk either side of my box. At the break I emptied all the saturated props from my box and dried what I could. I've just realised writing this I owe parents an apology. If anyone at the party that likes a milky tea / coffee had to have it black I'm sorry. I hope you're not too emotionally scarred from the experience. Right then and there I promised myself to move slower in future. This could never happen again.....or could it?

One week later, another party and I was all set for the children to arrive. My feet were moving slowly around my table and I was feeling good. The children arrived, we had the usual banter and the party started. Time for the milk trick and up comes daddy. I start and all's going well. I'm feeling relaxed, everyone's enjoying themselves and I pick up the jug of milk. I can tell you what happened next, what I can't tell you is how. As I said, "and then I'm going to pour the milk into the newspaper," the jug which was full of milk, jumps out of my hand, flies upwards and in even agonising slower motion than last week, empties all over the dad. He was covered in it. If I'd carefully attempted to cover every part of his body I wouldn't have done a better job.

For the first time in the history of Mr Banana Head parties, the whole world froze. Well, the hall seemed to, I definitely did. Half the audience laughed nervously, wondering if it was part of the act. The other half gasped, in no doubt at all this was definitely NOT part of the act. After what seemed like hours but was a few seconds of me looking like a deer caught in headlights, I said, "That was NOT meant to happen," swiftly followed by, "I'm so sorry" to the dad along with, "If it makes you feel any better, it's not cow's milk. It's from a confused baboon!" All this was delivered with a wry smile and swagger of someone in complete control of the situation. That was on the surface, inside I was like a duck, my brain paddling like crazy to grasp a handle of what was going on. "Fortunately, after last week's debacle where I bizarrely caught my foot and tipped my table over, I have some spare milk!" With that, I refilled the jug and carried on. 

Whilst all this was going on, I was furiously mopping up milk from the floor AGAIN, whilst simultaneously wiping milk off the poor dad's clothes. This was some next level multi-tasking, previously unheard of for a man. I still got my Matalan joke in and it was funnier as his top that was inherently ruined was cheap anyway. I somehow got to the end and breathed the biggest sigh of relief ever. What was amazing was that the dad turned round and asked if it was all part of the act as the way you tripped looked like a comedy fall. I reassured him I would never, ever do that intentionally to anyone. He was so good about it all, smiling and saying I was doing a good job making the children laugh and that was what counted. At the end of the party I threw in one last sorry as I felt so bad. He laughed and said it wasn't a problem at all. 

So, after two debacles, am I putting the milk away and sticking to magic without liquids involved? Nope, the milk stays. If it doesn't I'll have to bring something new into the show and that hasn't happened since 1897. I will be more careful and am seriously thinking of being tested for any and all wild, loose limb disorders! Until next time.