The Poop That's Probably on The Scoop... Among Other Places

Week two and a bit

The very fact that I have to give this blog the title, “Week Two and a Bit” is proof I’m losing touch with the normal measurements of time. I don’t go for your mundane lunar cycles or solar transits anymore. I now measure time by naps. In fact, the whole “now” thing is a bit shaky for me as well, “Sit down now, please… ok… when you’re ready.”

The authorities also seem to be in cahoots with children to keep reality at a distant grasp. Darth Baby is quite fond of a public get-together for children known as the Yellow Magic Bus. This council run purveyor-of-playtime gets around to local parks and unloads a bunch of toys and paints that are manned by well-meaning women. 

Three things I want to point out, though:

1. It’s not magic. You find out exactly where it’s going to be through the internet
2. It’s not a bus – it’s a two-tonner, badly in need of a tune
3. It’s not even particularly yellow. It’s got some yellow on it, but with the other two bits of misdirection on how to identify it, the yellow is not what you would call the defining factor about the truck

Anyway, Darth Baby reckons it’s ok and goes to whichever place it magically appears by the magic of the internal combustion engine and ignores the toys and books and chases the pigeons.

New Topic. Actors are desperate not to have a real job. Let me explain. Playschool.

If I was an actor and the choice was doing Playschool or being a chimney-sweep between real acting jobs, you’d hear me saying “Roight-ho Guvner, how far you want them bristles pushed up your flume?”

Here’s another thing about Playschool, not only is it paralysingly dull, it uncovers the little bits of missing talent on some of our better known TV faces. If someone’s not the best singer (Georgie P, I’m thinking your Mum had a touch of the Missus Worthington, here) or gets lost in some pretty simple script (looking at you, Kate) it gets exposed in front of the merciless cardboard background of the Playschool set. You’ve gotta have the goods ‘cause there’s nowhere to hide if your special effects consist of a moth-eaten teddy and a toilet roll with pipe-cleaners glued to it.

Babies are not good navigators. They call the turns late, if at all.