The name, you'll gather, is a gimmick. Of course it doesn't contain everything. But it does have one of the oddest collections I've seen in many a day. I'd like to show you exactly what I mean but this stark warning was posted on the walls in every room and an eagle-eyed curator watched my every move in case my hand twitched towards a camera case.
Instead, what I have is a meagre collection of images pulled off the interweb. They will, at least, give you a sniff if not the full quarter pounder and fries.
The Museum - curated by one of the founders of Brit-art, Sir Peter Blake - appears to be a repository for every obsolete puppet, toy carousel, poster, banner and exhibit that ever once graced a freakshow, funfair or circus. There are hundreds of individual pieces and everything has a kind of well-worn, grubby creepiness to it like props from a League of Gentlemen episode. There are grinning Mr Punchs and gurning ventriloquist dolls, weird angular shadow puppets and mannikins with scary painted eyes that follow you around the room. When you enter the place, you pass first through a little coffee bar selling 'lukewarm tea, punchy De'Longhi coffee and cakelets sourced from Lidlania and Iceland' and down a corridor covered in photos of giants and midgets and cases displaying General Tom Thumb's boots and a photo album of exceptionally hairy individuals.