There is no joy quite so pure, quite so grand, as the joy that comes from picking over pictures of a failed “immersive experience”. Even typing the words makes me slightly delighted. In the past I have enjoyed reports from various British “winter wonderlands” where open-hearted families bought tickets for what promised to be a magical tour of Santa’s grotto but, upon entry, was revealed in fact to be a nightmare made of forks and cotton wool. A cardboard cutout of a reindeer would appear to be bleeding from the eyes, a child would be lightly maimed by a fallen star made of rust, that kind of thing – festive, fun and full of spirit. £35.
The success of these Christmas experiences was so great that the teams behind them needed to work out a way to spread the joy all year round. The latest immersive experience to make the papers was based, loosely, on Roald Dahl’s story about Willy Wonka and his chocolate factory. Some might say, perhaps, that those buying tickets to a Willy Wonka experience might have cause to expect, or even be seeking out, a day of workplace accidents, child death and small beleaguered staff trafficked by a maniac but, nonetheless, visitors to “Willy’s Chocolate Experience” in Glasgow were so angry they called the police. They called the police!
