They then knock a cigarette out of a girl's mouth showering 6 clubs and launch into a routine which begins with synchro­nized tricks. Pare wisely vamps Hesseling's solid back-crosses on doubles  but gamely keeps pace with everything else -- hardly any drops. They then cut into a passing routine with Pare playing the straight man to Hesseling's remarkable assemblage of throws with every kind of over-the head, round-the-back, behind­the-leg and across-the-arms chops you've ever dreamt of, combined with doubles and triples and pirouettes. They finish with Hesseling taking 5 clubs from a shower pass straight into a 5 club cascade. Did my eyes bulge -- only choreographed drops!

Pare shows off some of his virtuoso unicycle technique with wheel-walking, one leg riding, a 180' spin of the unicycle underneath him (Le. while he is in the air), mounts from a regular unicycle to a 6­footer and then to a 9-footer with a finale free-mount of the latter beast.

AT LEAST A HALF DOZEN performers urgentl y told me, "Be sure you don't miss Mr. and Mrs. Jones on Holiday!" I was not disapointed. The slightly off-center Mrs. Jones (a.k.a. Pinne Treffers) and her earnest but goofy mate (a.k.a. Pieter Post) perform a circus-type act, but one in which the skills and presentation are definitely subordinated to the comic opportunities of the routine. The character work is in the finest European tradition. The jokes are not hackneyed, the routines are not cliched -­the material is original and derives its strength from their zany characters and the deftness of their presentation.

There is an uncomplicated diablo routine, and a visually compelling synchronized devil stick routine using brooms. Helicopter spins are interspersed with all manner of high and irregular throws. They have a crisp 6 club passing routine with synchronized under-the-Iegs, shoulder throws, high doubles, etc. Post does a hiarious routine juggling handfuls of corn­flakes while Treffers flails away trying to juggle soap bubbles. Clearly, keeping up with the Jones' will be a daunting task!

THERE IS A CLEVER running joke in Benedikt Erofejev' s satirical novel, Moscow-Petushki, about a Moscow alcoholic who is perpetually in search of Red Square but somehow can never seem to find it. I felt a little like Erofejev's peripatetic character when after two weeks a searching (for the second year in a row!) I could never seem to find Robert Nelson (a.k.a. The Butterfly Man). After all, every­one was talking about him; I was the juggling critic so...hmm. I'd already apologized for missing him last year. "Don't worry about it," he said in a moment of generosity, "You've seen the other acts at the festival? That's my material they're performing."