I normally enter into the spirit of Easter in the traditional way – eating a lot of chocolate, then flogging and crucifying a man to the jeers and applause of a crowd. Yesterday, I did things a little differently. The afternoon was spent filming with Ms Tytania. Our location was one of the custody cells of a disused police station in East London (pictured), which is exactly as creepy as it sounds. In one of the canteen cupboards, our beloved male minion found the most frightening doll ever made (also pictured below), along with a sharp knife (not pictured). A glorious evening was had by all at Mistress Vixen’s Club Twisted later on, during which I ended up scrawling drunken graffiti on Soleserver’s shaven head. Again. This time, I decided to include the term “bumclown”, which Mrs Blackthorn (my good buddy, and the esteemed Uvver Arf of Bizarre Magazine’s magnificent and despotic overlord) is in the process of introducing into vernacular speech as a creative insult. You heard it here first – the word on the streets is “BUMCLOWN”. I command you to literally shout it from the rooftops.