Square Eyes: Kids' TV of the 80s/90s

I have an unhealthy obsession with all things nostalgic (though I draw a line at mullets and jackets rolled up at the sleeves.) This, combined with a fondness for the TV of my childhood has driven me to create the Square Eyes blog. Simply an A-Z of the shows I watched, with my inimitable commentaries...

Friday, June 16, 2006

Ragdolly Anna

RAGDOLLY ANNA
Made by: Ragdoll

Shown on: BBC

Years shown: mid 80s

Theme tune: “Ragdolly Anna, fine and brown, standing up and sitting down/Ragdolly Anna, fine and fat, with a bunch of paper roses in her big straw hat.”

This was Anne ‘Teletubbies, Rosie and Jim, Pob, Brum’ Wood’s first project, inspired by the mundane fact that she’d bought her daughter a ragdoll, and it was also based on books by Jean Kenward. The Little Dressmaker (played by Pat Coombs) was lonely; she lived with a white cat and a tailor’s dummy, inventively called Dummy, perhaps the least captivating character to ever appear on TV. But instead of making the courageous move of opening her front door and interacting with other human beings (these were the days before Internet chat-rooms, you understand), the Little Dressmaker took out her box of material off-cuts and made herself a ragdoll. Ragdolly Anna was the sickeningly sweet result, and there followed a number of mind-boggling dull gambols, the sort of thing that your granny thought you should be watching. Hopefully, the Little Dressmaker got bored of her creation and decided Ragdolly Anna would make a better pincushion.

SQUARE EYES RATING: 1/10

The Raccoons


THE RACCOONS
Made by: Nelvana Animation

Shown on: ITV

Years shown:1985-1992

Theme tune:
"When darkness falls, leaving shadows in the night/Don't be afraid, wipe that fear from your eyes/The desperate love keeps on driving you wrong/Don't be afraid, you're not alone/You can run with us, we've got everything you need/Run with us, we are free/ Co-co-co-come with us/I see passion in your eyes/Run with us"

Considering this cartoon was usually on pre-Wide Awake Club, when only very restless children were out of bed, The Raccoons was actually not a bad way of passing the time while eating your Shreddies. Sometimes it veered into the sickly sentimental, but there were enough laughs and sufficient story-lines to hold the interest until Tommy Boyd came on.

Cyril Sneer was some kind of pink anteater, and he was also an industry tycoon who lived in a mansion in Evergreen Forest - like all good magnates, he was a slave to the green folding stuff. But life would have been easy “if it wasn’t for…The Racoons!” - so who were the pesky varmints? Bert Racoon was the chief protagonist; he was pretty stupid, but had a heart of gold of course, and would do anything to help his friends. His best buddy was, perversely, the wimpish Cederic Sneer, the son of Bert’s great nemesis, who was a perennial disappointment to his father (he had a conscience, for a start.) Bert was a lodger in the house of boring, wholesome married couple, Ralph and Melissa Racoon, who ran a moralising newspaper, The Evergreen Standard, trying to preserve the forest they all lived in. Despite the fact that they were obviously destroying a forest somewhere by their publication of a newspaper.

But they weren’t all racoons, as a matter of fact - there was also gigantic, shaggy dog called Schaeffer, who had a miniature clone of himself in the form of his son, Broo. Somewhere in there, there was Lisa Racoon, Sophie, and Bentley as well. None of them were particularly big or threatening, so you’d have thought that Cyril Sneer would have had no problem with getting hold of some loggers, and selling Evergreen Forest down the river. But for some reason, he shot himself in the foot time and again, by employing three little pigs in matching outfits, who were the most incompetent bunglers imaginable - but presumably came cheap. Sneer was always trying to impress a millionaire alligator who drove around in a limo, and was lacking in a sense of humour - but to no avail. If he’d had any sense, he’d have bought a pack of hunting dogs - they’d have made short work of those racoons.

SQUARE EYES RATING: 6/10

(Thanks to www.toontalents.com for the borrowed pic!)


Professor Lobster


PROFESSOR LOBSTER
Made by: ?

Shown by: ITV

Years shown: 1987-8

Theme tune:
“There’s a wise old man from the bottom of the sea/He’s come to help both you and me/Professor Lobster!”

Oh, this is a strange one. The professor in question was actually Professor Ken Martin, of the Royal Institute of British Architects, and every show he would drive into the stark studio in a red Mini with pincers on the front. The Professor taught the kids in the studio all about the building trade, how to mix cement correctly, and all kinds of scientific stuff - but why was it necessary that he was from under the sea? Okay, they thought, an architect might not make for an obvious kids’ presenter, but if we put him in ridiculous dungarees, and give him a hand signal a bit like Mork from Ork, then we’ll bring him down to the kids’ level. Genius. But they forgot one thing - that still doesn’t make the building trade at all interesting.

SQUARE EYES RATING: 2/10

(Thanks to www.tapirback.com for the lobster pic)

Postman Pat


POSTMAN PAT
Made by: Woodlands Animation

Shown on: BBC

Shown by: 1982 onwards (original series)

Theme tune:
“Postman Pat, Postman Pat, Postman Pat and his black and white cat/Early in the morning, just as day is dawning/He picks up all the post-bags in his van…”

A giant of the public sector workforce, Postman Pat began life as a series of books by John Cunliffe, which were adapted for the television by Ivor Wood, and few could have predicted what an household name and international celebrity he would quickly become.

The famous theme was sung by Ken Barrie, who also provided the voices, and Pat would pave the way for other local heroes - and busybodies - like Fireman Sam and Bob the Builder.

Postman Pat was the sole postal employee for the sleepy village of Greendale, located somewhere like the Yorkshire Dales. It was just as well everyone knew and liked him, because he was often side-tracked from his work, and the mail wasn’t always delivered on time or, in fact, at all. He lived at Forge Cottage with his wife, Sarah, their six year old son, Julian and, of course, Jess the cat. Jess would accompany Pat on his rounds in the chunky red van, registration PAT 1 (Royal Mail could have saved a lot of money if they hadn’t allowed low-grade employees to have personalised registration plates.)

First stop was always the post office, run in a pragmatic way by postmistress, Mrs Goggins, where he would collect all the mail to be delivered. The furthest port of call was Intake Farm, home of George Lancaster, a chicken farmer who dressed like a vagrant. If Greendale needed a village idiot, George was your man - he was kind of an outsider because he lived way up on the moors (no wonder Pat never lingered long there) and he was known to pay his bills in eggs from his prize laying hens.

Back in the relative safety of the village, there was Mrs Julia Pottage, and her 6 year old twins, Katy and Tom. Although she was a farmer’s wife, there didn’t appear to be a Mr Pottage any more, although she did employ a shepherd, the ginger-bearded Peter Fogg. Far be it for me to imply anything...

Postman Pat was ahead of its time with its trend portraying in single-parents. There was Mr Pringle, the lone schoolmaster, who had sole charge of his nine year old boy, Charlie - he might have got on well with Dr Sylvia Gilbertson, who lived with her precocious daughter, Sara. Sara was best friends with Lucy Selby, who lived across the road with her dad, PC Selby. Now, being a single man himself, perhaps PC Selby would have appreciated a bit of female company from Miss Rebecca Hubbard…or maybe not. Miss Hubbard was a dyed-in-the-wool spinster, who cycled to choir practice every day, and liked organising village activities - in short, she was too daunting a prospect for any man.

One happy family in Greendale was the Thompsons, who had a farm at Thompson Ground. Alf Thompson, a hardy, moustachioed man, had really fallen on his feet with his attractive wife, Dorothy, and the two of them had a son, 11 year old Bill. Bill, who always wore a yellow mac and had unkempt black hair, was the oldest pupil at Greendale School, and was therefore responsible for collecting the mail from Pat when he passed by the school. He also lent Pat his ice-skates with the intention of making winter deliveries easier - of course, it had no such effect, but they made a whole episode out of it.

Not everyone in Greendale was in the farming industry, as someone had to survive the BSE crisis. Ted Glen was the local handyman (“Leave it to me, leave it to me/I’ll try to fix it up for you as quickly as can be” was his musical promise), and he could turn his hand to any DIY conundrum. It was he who fixed the rusted village well when there was a drought, but why he didn’t do it earlier is anyone’s guess. Sam Waldron was the only character who didn’t actually live in Greendale; he owned a mobile grocer’s shop, and was a bit of spiv in the mould of Dad’s Army’s Private Walker. The Reverand Timms was the kindly, white-haired vicar of the village church, and he had a trite observation for any occasion (“Seek and ye shall find” he helpfully advised Pat, when looking for Katy Pottage’s lost doll.) But he did help Pat on one occasion, when he and Miss Hubbard rang the church bells to guide a lost Pat through the thick fog.

Like most rural communities, there was an ageing population, and Greendale had its fair share of fossils. Granny Dryden was deaf as a post, and never had any batteries in her hearing-aid - she was also adept at knitting itchy vests for the people of the village. Meanwhile, the retired Major Forbes was living at Garner Hall; a model pensioner, Forbes enjoyed cooking, collecting antiques, and rearing a heard of prize milking cows. But he’d probably still take out a shotgun if you wandered on to his land.

Only thirteen episodes of Postman Pat were made initially, but in an almost unique move, another thirteen original shows were made at the end of the nineties. Pat was sent careening into the modern age, which could be observed by a magazine in Mrs Goggins’ post office, which appeared to have Mulder and Scully on the front of it.

But did you know that Pat’s surname is Clifton? Eh? Not many people have access to that kind of privileged information.

SQUARE EYES RATING: 9/10

(Thanks to www.bbc.co.uk for the borrowed pic)