I regret putting a TV in the bedroom.
I pull the duvet over my head, but nothing changes, except that I have a duvet over my head. I turn over and try to ignore the luminous freaks as they dance about making infantile noises.
“David Jason must really be embarrassed by this now,” I mutter, provocatively.
“What? What?” demands the LTLP from the other side of the bed.
“Mmmmphhh,” I reply, closing my eyes once more.
“What did you just say?”
Three minutes later I am left to reflect in bemusement how a woman who is gullible enough to believe that three of the Teletubbies are played by David Jason, Ross Kemp and Sir John Mills can be so shrewd when it comes to, say, accepting my estimate as to when I might be home from the Village Pub.
“The other one’s played by an unknown,” I mumble reassuringly.
I have been watching a lot of children’s television recently. The thing that you come to realise is that it is either very good or very crap. There is a locked find-and-replace template that they use for many shows that goes ‘Previously normal character develops unexpected different character trait’/’Different character trait makes them happy for a while’/’Different character trait makes them unhappy’/’They learn that they should just be happy as they are as everybody likes them and everything is wonderful’. Sometimes you long for, say, Spud the Scarecrow to have an irreversible sex change, or to find work in an administrative capacity and say ‘actually, Bob – the pay’s better and I get to piss around playing solitaire on the PC all day’.
Many of the presenters love it, dancing around with their puppets and brightly-coloured hats. My favourite occupation is to look intently for the fleeting dark shadow that betrays the fact that they are dying inside and have realised that they are never going to be asked to do Hamlet. I also dance around with puppets and brightly-coloured hats, but it is in the privacy of my own home, so that is all right.
“They just do the voiceovers, though, don’t they?” she interjects, five minutes later.
“No – they’re inside the costumes. Otherwise it’s pretty well impossible to synch the sound.”
24 thoughts on “If there is a ‘six’ in the time, it is too early to be subjected to the Teletubbies.”
Isn’t John Mills dead?
And Ross Kemp doesn’t have the range.
You could also impress her with the fact that the ‘unknown’ one had a bit part as a prostitute in the second Bridget Jones film.
a) They are old repeats
b) He plays Lala. You’ll note that all Lala really does is stand around looking amdram-hard.
Rog. I’ve not seen the film. In the costume, or not?
Thanks, Jonny, now I have the image of Po offering to ‘love me long time’.
I’ll just go and poke out my mind’s eye.
Excellent subterfuge, Jonny. In a similar vein: a friend of mine has managed to convince his otherwise intelligent girlfriend that all Mecca Bingo Halls face East.
LTLP is going to read this. And then she is going to kill you. Making her look such a fool, indeed! Any idiot can see that LaLa studied Method.
If you want to get your money’s worth out of those waddling weirdos, try telling Servalan that the tubby custard is made by smooshing the rabbits in a big tubby-juicer. Then make panicked squeaking noises whenever they’re pressing the custard button. Before you know it she’ll be safely in care and you can watch Good Morning Unemployable Losers in comfort…
I managed to convince my wife (not only a mastermind contestant, but she won her heat) that the cats eyes on the roads came on at the same time the street lights were switched on.
To be fair she is a non driver.
I was watching Teletubbies many years ago with my then infant son. I was rather surprised to notice that one of the rabbits appeared to be exceedingly dead as it was the only inanimate one amongst the hopping hordes. Not only inanimate but laying on its side, slightly splayed as if having been trodden on. I never did trust that Tinky Winky.
Ross Kemp doesn’t have the range to walk in to the kitchen and put the kettle on (unaided).
But got news for you dood. Postman Pat is a serial granny-mugger and has financed a holiday caravan in Tenby on stolen OAP Giros. Oh yes.
Hullo Essy and welcome!!!
Now that Mecca thing sounds familiar. We probably share some friends…
Those were the halcyon days.
Morning, old boy
I persuaded my better half that that song by the Stereophonics was actually titled “The Bartender’s name is Keith, the Bastard”, which I will happily and freely admit that I stole from Mark & Lard when they were the only thing worth listening to on Radio 1. Whenever it came on the radio or TV, I had to talk all over the chorus to make sure that she couldn’t hear the words properly and change channel before the song finished and the title was announced. It took her 4 years to realise.
Halogen days. Dickie.
Cant you think of anything better to do in bed than with the LTLP than watch Tele tubbies or am I missing the point here?
Yes. But her Po suit has not arrived yet.
You’re playing with fire, Jonny.
You do realize that this new unguent for your unmentionables could be surreptitiously replaced with something a great deal more…caustic, shall we say?
Chili powder, for example.
Yes, you may find your bits cut off and deposited in Tinky Winky’s handbag.
I once convinced my ex that Stevie Ray Vaughan is a post-man from Merthyr Tydfil.
I sat for half an hour yesterday watching Bear in the Big Blue House, wishing I was back in the days when it was the hub of my daughter’s existence, ie before American tweenie shite took over. Husband stopped tiling the kitchen specifically to watch the Goodbye Song. Bless.
an ex once asked me the difference between blue lobsters and red ones.so i convinced her blue one were from the north sea (cold) and red ones were tropical and sunbathed on the rocks
If you were ever a Red Dwarf fan, Danny ‘The Cat’ John-Jules can be seen on the Story Makers on CBeebies. I couldn’t believe it when I saw him.
My other half berates me for picking holes in kid’s shows. Something about them not being made for 35 year olds. What does she know. Also it has become ingrained that I have to say “Smeg head” whenever I watch Story Makers.
He may be otherwise engaged for the time being…
Ahh, those were the days – watching children’s TV with the kids. I remember convincing my husband that we MUST have a colour TV so that our daughter wouldn’t be confused when Playschool mentioned coloured objects.
Who remembers the old black and white days when snooker commentators made helpful remarks like “For those of you watching in Black and White, the blue ball is behind the yellow.” ????
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