Sultan's Elephant

How bloody brilliant is The Sultan's Elephant? After a tip-off from my dad yesterday (this event was not well publicised in advance), Dave and I headed into town and spent the afternoon following the events around Piccadilly and St James's Park, finding a convenient showing of the film Junebug to pass the time while the elephant had its afternoon siesta right in the middle of Piccadilly. Initially slightly bemused but then immediately enraptured crowds flocked amongst the processions to Waterloo Place, the Mall and Horseguards. You just had no idea what was going to happen next, though often it involved being sprayed with gallons of water from the elephant's gigantic trunk. The sheer size and artistry of the puppetry mechanics was totally overwhelming. Despite being three storeys high, it seemed utterly lifelike, and you barely noticed the hundreds of red-suited men and women operating the strings and levers in the middle of it all. The girl marionette's face was so expressive it stopped you in your tracks. Everyone on the streets was laughing and talking to strangers. Though the conversations sounded completely random out of context. "Why is the road closed?" "Because there's an elephant on it." "We've been following the girl - she's got out of her deckchair and is now riding on her scooter."
I haven't seen Londoners look this happy since New Labour swept to power in 1997. And doesn't that feel a long time ago now?