A dream of sorts

The Magic Kingdom, Disney World, Florida is such a violent battle between cynicism and innocence that a writer’s head may blow off. There are three Disney parks within screaming distance and beyond that, the wastelands of America. If it feels as though it sprouted out of the swamp fully formed, that is because it did. At the centre is Cinderella’s castle, modelled on Mad Ludwig of Bavaria’s Neuschwanstein, but madder. At the gate, a bag search. Your bag will be searched, even though you cannot fit a Kalashnikov inside a Goofy rucksack. Inside, a sign: ‘Meet the fairies. Wait time — 45 minutes’.

Some days 100,000 people come here, and there are queues, fights, deaths. Because America believes in the free market, there can never be enough magic for everyone; demand must outstrip supply. I head to Space Mountain, an indoor rollercoaster in Tomorrowland. It is horrible, like being trapped in a moving coffin. But that is what theme parks are — the ultimate passive experience. You can even imagine your own death, as I did at Space Mountain.

Into Fantasyland to meet the Disney Pantheon. If you read newspaper reports, you will hear that the Disney Pantheon sometimes attack the guests, or vice versa. If you read the fascinating Incidents At Disney Wikipedia page, you can learn how a 27-year-old woman filed a lawsuit claiming that Donald Duck groped her. Goofy, too, was alleged to have touched the breasts of two women with his paws. Today they stand behind ropes like celebrities and, like celebrities, they have weirdly big heads. I do not know if worshipping Daffy Duck is worse than worshipping Jennifer Lopez. I think it may be the same evil, except you can replicate Daffy Duck and sell him in bulk.