Watch with Father: Julie's Greenroom

Sometimes, a series comes along that is pretty much just what you want your child to be watching, and then sometimes a series comes along that is what you never knew you needed your child to be watching. If you'd asked me what I wanted Arya to be watching a month ago, I probably wouldn't have shot for a diverse group of Muppet children and a duck attending an all-star series of performing arts workshops led by Julie Andrews(1), and yet here comes Julie's Greenroom, and it is glorious.

Ms Julie and her stage manager, Gus, run a performing arts centre with a prestigious youth 'Greenroom' workshop. When a burst pipe destroys the prop collection, the latest workshop group set out to create their own original musical using what they learn in a series of masterclasses given by the Greenroom's alumni. The latter group includes Idina Menzel, Glee! alumnus and author Chris Colfer, baritone Josh Groban(2), Alec Baldwin, ballet dancers Robert Fairchild and Tyler Peck(3), Sara Bareilles, Ellie Kemper and Tituss Burgess, violinist Joshua Bell, and David Hyde Pierce. There are also appearances from Stomp, Cirque de Soleil and a visit to the set of Wicked.

The 'Greenies' are performed by veteran Henson puppeteers, including Stephanie D'Abruzzo, John Tartaglia and Jennifer Barnhart, three of the four Sesame Street performers who originated the puppet roles in Avenue Q(4). The characters are diverse in many ways, including: Hank, a paraplegic pianist and sports fan; Peri, a theatre buff and drama queen from a rich family; Fizz, a young Hispanic girl; Spike, an African-American linguaphile; and technophile Riley. Riley is most interesting for what she isn't quite. She is identified, when unavoidable, as female, but lacks any distinctive gender coding. With production crew suggesting that Riley is likely to self-identify as non-binary at some point, I'm not sure why they didn't just go for it.

There's also Hugo. He's a duck.

Through their workshops, the Greenies learn about various aspects of the performing arts, including technical skills like costume design and harmony singing, as well as more personal lessons, such as the importance of practice, or that ballet isn't just for girls and waterfowl. In episode 2, when Spike feels unequal to the task of being a writer because he's never seen a writer who looks like him, everyone sings a song about the importance of diverse voices. Peri learns that being cast as the ogre instead of the princess isn't a slight, and Fizz learns the importance of practice. Hank learns to dance, and Riley learns that the technical and creative are not mutually exclusive.

You know what it is? It's like if Julie Andrews took over the Muppet theatre and ran a class for Sesame Street characters, and exactly as awesome as that sounds. The only problem is that there are only thirteen half-hour episodes and no sign of a season 2, alas.

(1) Who is also credited as creator of the show. I also imagine it didn't hurt when it came to attracting guest stars. "You've had an offer to do a show with Julie Andrews and Muppets," probably isn't a tough sell.

(2) I may have to forgive him for his butchering of 'Evermore' in the end credits of Beauty and the Beast.

(3) They make a lot of their 'fairytale marriage', so I imagine a lot of parents may end up having tricky conversations about how they separated a few months after the show came out.

(4) A poster for which appears in the greenroom itself.

Watch with Father: The Highway Rat

It's been a couple of years since the mind-shattering horror of Stick Man, so it must be time for another Julia Donaldson/Axel Scheffler adaptation. This time, it's Donaldson's take on Alfred Noyes much-studied-at-GCSE poem 'The Highwayman', The Highway Rat.

The mean and selfish Highway Rat steals food from travellers, fattening himself at the expense of the other animals, even on food that he doesn't really want. At last, with the entire country suffering, a brave duck risks all to trick the villain and reclaim what has been stolen. The story borrows its tempo and rhyming scheme from the Noyes verse, but omits a lot of the death, gun violence, sex, assault and suicide in favour of rapier flourishing, food theft and some subterranean soul-searching (the latter primarily added, wordlessly, in the adaptation.) The TV version features the usual cavalcade of star voices, with Rob Brydon on narrative duty and David Tennant in native Scots mode as the titular thief.

For my money, The Highway Rat lacks the charm of The Gruffalo and The Gruffalo's Child, the warmth of Room on the Broom, and the soul-shattering horror of Stick Man. Perhaps because it is so closely modelled on 'The Highwayman', it lacks a certain vitality that marks Donaldson's work out from the crowd(1). It's still good fun, and even second tier Donaldson/Scheffler animation is a Christmas treat, but I'm hoping for Tabby McTat or A Squash and a Squeeze in two years' time.

My daughter, on the other hand, loved it, which is probably what matters.

(1) I find the same with her The Further Adventures of the Owl and the Pussycat, which is technically excellent, but still feels more like superior fan fiction than its own thing.

Equestria Girls - Canterlot High Adventures

Magical girl adventures usually involve some degree of secret identity, but I
guess that's a moot point when no-one bats an eye if you occasionally sprout
pointy ears, wings and a tail.

Equestria Girls was always a weird gig, and it’s only got weirder. Beginning as ‘Twilight Sparkle travels to a world without magic(1) and encounters human versions of her friends,’ it dropped the bulk of the transdimensional stuff with the introduction of the ultra-rationalist human version of Twilight (dubbed ‘Sci-Twi’) in the third TV movie, The Friendship Games, and then gave the seven leads(2) magical powers in The Legend of Everfree, effectively completing a transformation into a stock magical girl property(3). With Equestria Girls: Canterlot High Adventures, said property takes steps towards becoming a parallel ongoing series to Friendship is Magic, in which our protagonists deal with every day high school problems like winning a $10,000 pop video contest and investigating Scooby-Doo shenanigans on the set of a Daring Do movie.

So... Yeah, so the weird thing about Canterlot High Adventures is that it’s very like Friendship is Magic, but in a world where that shouldn’t make a lick of sense. The first episode is moe of a TV high school story, but the second involves the Rainbooms somehow having backstage passes for the set of a Daring Do movie(4), where Rainbow Dash nitpicks while a mystery saboteur tries to halt production. ‘Dance Magic’ wraps up in traditional style, with the Rainbooms joining forces with their Crystal Prep rivals to combine their music with the Preppers sick dance moves. ‘Movie Magic’, however, is... less typical.

"Well, this doesn't seem contrived at all..."(5)

The saboteur is exposed as a young production assistant who wanted the star to quit so she could have a shot at playing Daring Do. It’s a shockingly entitled plan (she’s angling to use the fact that she is the director’s niece,) but ultimately comes from a place of loneliness and a sense that she is unappreciated in the world. Once she is revealed, she gets kicked off the set while the Rainbooms are given walk-on roles in the movie, and are so excited that not one of them even notices how gutted she is. It’s a weird moment, and the fact that it’s followed up by a humorous scene of the girls filming their parts creates a crashing sense of dissonance that someone would be rejected for committing a few times by a group who pride themselves on the power of their friendship and have fully embraced not one, but two young women who went all one-winged angel and tried to take over the world, or some such thing.

On the other hand, we’ve not seen part three yet, so maybe that will make amends. I hope so.

(1) Not ‘the World Without Magic,’ a la Once Upon a Time, nor in any meaningful sense the ‘normal world,’ but a human one at least, with high schools and buses and electric guitars.

(2) Mane Seven? Hair Seven? Rainbooms?

(3) Complete with magic necklaces (in this case, geodes from Camp Everfree.)

(4) And how did this happen? Rainbow Dash is clearly the mega fan here, as in Equestria, but in the world of Equestria Girls she’s barely known Twilight a year, and it was Twilight who introduced her pony counterpart to the Daring Do series while Rainbow Dash was laid up in hospital. How did the human Rainbow Dash get into reading? You can’t just assume these details!

(5) Also, I maintain that Power Ponies may not be the Sentinels of the Multiverse expansion that we need, but it might just be the one we deserve.

Watch with Father at Christmas - 'We're Going on a Bear Hunt', 'The Snowman' and 'The Snowman and the Snow Dog'

It was at this point that we, as a family, collectively lost our shit.

Christmas is traditionally a time for family, for good cheer, and for animated adaptations of beloved children's books. No Donaldson and Scheffler this year (although we did break out the Stick Man DVD at last after nine months of Arya refusing to watch it,) but we did watch all-time classic The Snowman, surprisingly effective reboot The Snowman and the Snow Dog, and Channel 4's new offering: We're Going on a Bear Hunt.

For those who don't know, We're Going on a Bear Hunt is one of the modern classics of children's literature. Penned by Michael Rosen - like Julia Donaldson a former Children's Laureate - and illustrated by Helen Oxenbury, it's a simple, repetitive poem about a family going on a bear hunt through various unfavourable terrain, then fleeing the object of their hunt back through the same obstacles. Back in the day, it was one of Arya's absolute favourites, and we saw the stage version when it came to Cambridge last. Like the stage version, the Channel 4 adaptation adds considerable material; unlike the stage version, the original text is almost absent, referenced in parts only, and the expanded story is fucking heartbreaking.

Four children, a baby and a dog go for their bear hunt while one in particular is keenly mourning the pre-Christmas loss of their grandfather; thanks for that, 2016! They find a bear who might be a reincarnation of sorts of grandpa and the girl befriends him, before being dragged away by her siblings, and we end with the lonely bear slinking sadly away from the house. This is not what I was expecting from We're Going on a Bear Hunt, but I'm not going to say that it's a bad thing. The stage show had participation and songs, but there's only so long a TV adaptation can be sustained by a repeating pattern of eight lines or so. The resulting short film is by turns amusing and deeply poignant.

"Is there room on the Snowman for a dog like me?"

The Snowman is an absolute classic, of course, and thanks to the DVD extras I was able to introduce my family to the David Bowie intro (as well as the Mel Smith as Father Christmas intro and the original Raymond Briggs intro that I'd never seen before.) The Snowman and the Snow Dog came out a couple of years ago (2012, for the 30th - bloody hell - anniversary of the original,) and is a bit of a weird beast.

Its purpose, as much as it has one beyond 'let's make another Snowman, that movie was ledge,' is to bring the story into a realm that a modern audience will recognise, with the isolated house of the original now in the middle of an estate. Like We're Going on a Bear Hunt it throws in some loss, with the protagonist, Billy, losing his elderly dog in the opening scenes. He writes to Santa for a new dog before stumbling on the Snowman's hat, scarf and facial accessories, inspiring him to recreate the titular mayfly of a hero. After a baffling gathering of the Snowmen of Many Nations, Father Christmas presents Billy with a collar which magically transforms the Snow Dog into a real beast. The Snowman still melts of course.

For me, the most notable thing about this film is that, when the Snowman takes off for the North Pole (before stopping to steal a propeller plane, because he's getting on I guess,) I find it jarring that it goes into soft rock number 'Light the Night' instead of 'Walking in the Air'. It's almost exactly the same sense of wrongness I get every single time I watch an episode of Star Trek: Enterprise(1) and the music under the cold open goes into 'Faith of the Heart' instead of a proper, orchestral bit. There is also a cross-country race against various Snowpersons and a penguin on skis, who presumably traveled all the way up the globe to participate, only to lose to a snotty kid and his imaginary dog.

(1) So, not that often.

Ask the Storybots

Hahahaha. Storybots.

Ask the Storybots is a frankly surreal educational TV series premiering on Netflix, in which a group of five storybots - beings that live in computers and answer children's questions via the educational apps the series is based on - set out each episode to provide the solution to a head scratching puzzle, like 'how do airplanes fly?' or 'where do French fries come from?'

Typically featuring a false start and then a trail of increasingly accurate answers, the main 'plot' of each episode is interspersed with learning songs and strange interludes with the easily amused storybot functionaries at HQ, who giggle at everything like Minions sensing a double entendre ("Hahahaha. Ninja.*") In addition to a number of jokes aimed largely at parents - the Storybots are introduced to the 'Underground' where potatoes grow by Molepheus, a mole in a black trenchcoat and little round glasses - each episode features a guest appearance, such as Jay Leno as King Yardstick (the ruler) and Kevin Smith as Super Mega Awesome Ultra Dude, a TV superhero who can't fly, but encourages the audience to "stay in school. That way when you grow up you can play awesome make believe in front of a green screen."

And it's taught Arya exactly why she needs to brush her teeth, so that's a result.

* Also, N is for Ninja now.

Beat Bugs

I find myself wondering which of them will be known to history as 'the fifth
Beat Bug.'

In an ordinary garden - well, ordinary apart from its terrifying, tentacle flailing purple octopus sprinkler of death - live five invertebrate chums. Rainbow Dash expy Jay, inventor and engineer Crick, eager young Buzz, optimistic slug Walter Walrus, and Kumi, who is kind of the normal one, although she does sometimes design things for Crick to build. Each episode, these alleged insects (and a slug) face the kinds of rudimentary friendship problems that microequines would scoff at, but then the dilemmas of life are really just vehicles in this series, the central purpose of which is simply and solely to introduce young children to the music of The Beatles.

I am not even joking.

Each episode features a particular song reinterpreted by the cast, and the plot is mostly built around the lyrics. So in 'Help!' Jay acts all cool and independent, then gets stuck in a jam jar and finds that he does need help, while in 'Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds' Buzz is so scared by a story Zumi tells that they have to call on the assistance of a dragonfly sleep therapist named Lucy, who has kaleidoscope eyes and a really unhelpful visiting address. And is voiced by P!nk.

Perhaps the oddest thing is the way that the lyrics have been trimmed to a) fit the plot, b) be less about drugs and getting old, and c) not require parents to try to explain what 'pornographic priestess' means; at least until they play them the original tracks. On that front, it definitely seems to be doing its job, and Arya is delighted to listen to and sing along with The Beatles in the car now, so props to creator Josh Wakely for following through on his vision, getting the rights to so much of the catalogue and achieving his goal. Hell, it's introducing us to Beatles songs we don't know.

PAW Patrol - Season 2

As of Season 2, the PAW Patrol's police arm now has a
secret intelligence remit and access to drone surveillance.

So, now we've seen Season 2 of PAW Patrol and let me tell you, this is where shit gets weird.

Perhaps provoked by the escalating climate of intercivic tensions caused by Mayor Humdinger of Foggy Bottom's slide into cartoonish supervillainy, Police Pup Chase is given a second outfit and vehicle geared towards his secondary role as a super spy, replacing his trusty winch and megaphone with a zipline, a spy drone and a publicly denied shoot to kill policy*. Fire Pup Marshall also gets an upgrade, but his is basically first aid training and access to a portable backscatter x-ray screen, and Zuma's hovercraft gets a submarine mode.

In addition, the team goes global with the Paw Patroller, a massive SUV with space to house the pup houses, a spacious hang-out area, control room and, most important, built-in Pup-Pup Boogie(TM) system. It's driven by Robopup, a mechanical dog that went rogue in its first activation, so putting it in charge of a multi-tonne vehicle makes perfect sense. With this transport, the team are able to travel by road to such locations as the jungle (encountering elephants and harpy eagles in close proximity) and the Antarctic, where they meet idealistic young Scottish husky Everest, who gets reserve PAW Patrol membership, but not a spot in the credits yet.

Yeah, so... this happens.

As part of his general scheming to win various civic competitions, and tired of the PAW Patrol's meddling, Mayor Humdinger recruits his own team: The Kitten Catastrophe Crew. The KCC (I'm just grateful they didn't go with Katastrophe Krewe, because that would have been unfortunate) are basically six kittens with similar equipment to the PAW Patrol, who are summoned by Humdinger to aid in his nefarious plans. They are largely ineffectual, but have a cool spy-style theme tune and an honest-to-gosh lair. It is surely only a matter of time before the PAW Patrol rounds them up and renders them off to Guantanameow Bay.

Then Skye, Zuma and Rocky are turned into Mer-pups. For realsies.

Having met a mer-pup and helped Santa to save Christmas, it feels odd that
dinosaurs are considered a step too far.

Something odd in PAW Patrol is that, for all that they live in a world of talking dogs, magical tranformations and hyper-competent pre-teens, the pups display some remarkably old-fashioned and conservative views on gender roles. Sure, Skye is a pilot, but any animal seen displaying parental behaviours is automatically assumed to be a mummy. As a father, I resent this.

There's also an episode with dinosaurs, but that turns out to be a dream, which is actually weirder in context than a lost world of surviving dinosaurs. I mean... the pups swim with merfolk, are even magically transformed, they study the ancient art of pup fu, and drive to the Antarctic on a whim, but dinosaurs are too out there?

* I have no evidence of this policy yet.

PAW Patrol

Rocky, Rubble, Chase, Ryder, Marshall, Zuma and Skye (over)

In a post-apocalyptic world with a vanishingly small population of precocious children and incompetent adults, the town of Adventure Bay is defended by 11-year old Ryder and the puppies of the PAW Patrol. Each puppy has a backpack full of gadgets and a kennel that turns into a vehicle - leftover tech from the world before, I'm sure; perhaps once property of the MASK organisation - and together they protect Adventure Bay from disasters ranging from life-threatening to trivial, assigning equal importance to all*.

Seriously popular and deceptively weird, PAW Patrol is my daughter's latest favourite. One of her friends told her it was just for boys, and we felt we have to be supportive of her assertion that it is in fact just for girls too, but damn the music is catchy and damn the world it presents is weird. Adventure Bay is run by an incompetent mayor who keeps a chicken in her handbag, presumably elected by the five adults in the equally gripless electorate. The neighbouring town of Foggy Bottom is run by a silent movie villain - seriously, he has his own villainous piano sting - who apparently has a team of nefarious felines to support his corrupt regime. Perhaps it's less surprising that Adventure Bay stands behind the inept but harmless rule of a hapless chicken fancier.

Everest the Snow Pup brings the male/female ratio
to 3:1 (in pup terms, Ryder's nearest distaff
counterpart is still Katie at the pet salon.)

The pups are Rocky the Recycling Pup (who also does maintenance,) Rubble the Constructor Pup, Chase the Police Pup and Marshall the Fire Pup (together constituting 100% of Adventure Bay's official emergency services, as well as being part of the Patrol,) Zuma the Water Pup and Skye the Air Pup (also the only female pup until season 2, who wears pink but is on the other hand a pilot.)

Season 2 (not yet on UK Netflix) is set to expand PAW Patrol to a global remit, with episodes set within the (former?) Antarctic Treaty Area and South American rain forest, and introducing a Snow Pup (Everest, a second female character huzzah!) and Spanish-speaking characters. I'm torn whether the series as it stands has a diversity issue, but I think it's doing all right. The pups are all clearly different - and specific - breeds (in order as listed above, mixed breed, bulldog, German shepherd, dalmation, chocolate lab and cockapoo**.) I can't speak for the voice actors, but the Mayor is black and one of the farmers ambiguously Asian.

PAW Patrol has some decent problem solving and its heart is in the right place, but it's a bit overwhelming and its music sticks in your head for days. At least Arya hasn't started asking for the toys.

* When a call which ultimately provides an important clue is dismissed as 'not really an emergency' it feels like the sickest burn ever.

** Why is a cocker spaniel/poodle cross not a cockadoodle?

Ruff-Ruff, Tweet and Dave

Left to right: Ruff-Ruff, Tweet and Dave

My daughter's latest TV obsession is not, thankfully, Harlan Coban's The Five, but CBeebies' Ruff-Ruff, Tweet and Dave, a brightly coloured, highly repetitive observation game featuring the three title characters - a red dog, a yellow chick who claims to be capable of flight despite the absence of mature primary feathers, and a blue panda who can't teleport* - and their day care minder/imaginary friend Hatty the Hamster.

"Yes, I'm wearing a flower pot. Deal with it."

Each episode, Hatty greets the audience, then visits Ruff-Ruff, Tweet and Dave. They discuss something, then ask Hatty what today's adventure will be. He waves his top hat, which transforms into a more apposite form and pops out a card telling them that they will be going on an adventure directly related to their recent discussion.

The three then jump in their 'rolly-pods' - fancy looking go-carts - and descend from the perilous mesa where they live, followed by Hatty in his bubble copter, and all enter the Spin Again, a spinning top shaped flying machine which whisks them off to some magical land. Here they are faced with a number of problems, and this is where the meat of the show comes in.

From 'A Music-Making Adventure', of course.

At each point of decision or contention, Hatty feels a game coming on, his hat pops out a card in a flurry of gigles and bubbles, and the friends exclaim 'Game time! Game time!'** Hatty asks the question on the card and each of the three suggests an answer. Based on the preceding segment, the viewers are invited to choose which of the three answers is correct. The genius of this is of course that, while they are solving the problem, the children watching only need to pick one of the same three names each time, so there's no stumbling over phrasing or trying to correctly pronounce new words.

Arya is not perfect on this, but she is pretty good, and it does seem to be doing wonders for her observation. In addition to the regular questions, I quizzed her on what each character keeps on their bedside shelf at the end of each episode - a point that is never dwelt on or even mentioned explicitly - and she was three for three.

I'm not going to lie, my point of saturation with Ruff-Ruff, Tweet and Dave is much lower than for, say, Sarah & Duck, but I can dig it, and by pausing the playback I can make sure that she's doing the interaction thing, as well as talking to her about the show, which I try to do anyway.

* I'm colour blind, okay; he looks purple to me. Not that anyone gets me on this one.
** Except the one time that the episode was apparently running long and they didn't, and don't think Arya wasn't all over that little time-saving exercise.

Watch with Father - My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic

Oh my God! What is my daughter watching? This is so bright and saccharine and trashy and... and... Hey; this is pretty good.

So, I grew up with a vague awareness of My Little Pony through advertising. It was a symbol of tacky, disposable girl's toys (obviously very separate from tacky, disposable boy's toys,) and not something that I gave much thought to.

Then Arya started watching My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. I despaired. I sighed. And then I got really into it, to the point that every time Arya wants to go back and watch her favourite episode again ('Magical Mystery Cure', aka "Rarity has Rainbow Dash's cutie mark," the final episode of Season 3,) I get frustrated because damnit I want to know what happens in the rest of Season 4 already!

It's Q. No, really; Discord is voiced by
John de Lancie and somewhat based
on Star Trek's Q.

For those who don't know, MLP:FiM tells the story of Twilight Sparkle, a bookish unicorn, who is sent by her mentor to live in the rural cosmopolitan utopia of Ponyville - along with Spike, a baby dragon who acts as her PA and fax machine - and learn about friendship. Here she meets and reluctantly forms friendships with boisterous party pony Pinkie Pie, perfectionist couturier Rarity, hard-working farm girl Applejack, brash daredevil Rainbow Dash, and shy veterinarian Fluttershy. Together they represent the six aspects of friendship - laughter, generosity, honesty, loyalty, kindness and magic - and turn out to be able to harness the mystical elements of harmony and make evil explode.

Yeah; like... 85% of the episodes involve some comedic scrape and an important lesson about friendship, while the rest involve using those lessons to defeat cosmic evil, as you do.

What's impressive about the series, apart from the use of one-shot and visual gags clearly aimed at an older audience (Pinkie Pie deliberately setting up a spit-take, Fluttershy's woodland friends trying to boil Rainbow Dash in a parody of early Hollywood cannibals, or a Yakety-Sax chase sequence in which a phoenix wears a false beard in a nod to A Hard Day's Night) is the range of personalities within the 'Mane Six'. Far more than just the smart one, the sporty one and so on, they range from the highly feminine Rarity, through tomboyish Applejack to Rainbow Dash, who is one pronoun from actually being a transtallion (Arya recognises that Rainbow Dash is a boy and won't hear otherwise.)

The series also gives a purpose to the cutie marks, those logos on the ponies butts, which appear when a pony discovers some special talent or destiny. There is even prejudice against those who have yet to find their talent (called 'blank flanks' by Ponyville elementary's regulation queen bee.)

What self-respecting human parent names their daughter 'Rainbow Dash'. Is
Dash her surname, and if so why does she use it all the time?

And then there's 'Walking Feet', which is Arya's name for Equestria Girls, a spin off featuring human versions of the pony characters (which is kind of weird) who share their personalities, voice actors and - strangest of all - names. It's... It's weird as all hell is what it is. For my money the Equestria Girls films (there are three TV movies, rather than a series) aren't as good as the original, but that might just be because they raise so many questions. What kind of name is 'Shining Armour' for a human child? Why aren't people freaking out more when magical shit happens? Does this world have an REM?

Also, the human forms of the Mane Six are all more overtly conventionally feminine, just because they wear clothes all the time.

My Little Pony has proven an unexpected treat, even if it does keep me up at night wondering exactly how their bizarre meritomorphocracy (Equestria is ruled by princesses who are all alicorns - winged unicorns - but Twilight Sparkle turns herself into an alicorn and is apparently given royal rank on merit, but we never meet any deadbeat alicorns) works.

The Gruffalo, The Gruffalo's Child, Room on the Broom and Stick Man

"Silly old snake. Doesn't he know? There's no such thing as a Gruffalo."

The adaptations of Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler's children's classics The Gruffalo, The Gruffalo's Child and Room on the Broom have been a staple part of Arya's TV viewing for some time now, thanks to their ready availability on Amazon instant video. They feature beautiful animation closely based on Scheffler's original illustrations and top-notch voice acting, but their greatest strength is the way that they expand on the original story with little or no additional speech beyond the text of the source.

The Gruffalo features a small framing narrative with a mother squirrel telling the story to her two children, but the body of the story is filled out with a wordless dance of life and death as a multitude of background creatures are gobbled up as the Mouse goes on his way. I'm pretty sure it has as high a body count as The Bourne Identity. In the sequel, The Gruffalo's Child the titular sprog's journey through the deep, dark wood is transformed from a simple starlight stroll to a rollercoaster ride of peril. Perhaps most impressively, the straightforward story of Room on the Broom is masterfully expanded with the rivalry between the various animals without actually adding a single word to the text.

"I'm your number one fan."

"I'm Stick Man! I'm Stick Man! I'm Stick Man, that's me."

We were, therefore, delighted to see that this year the same production company would be offering an adaptation of Stick Man, a favourite of Arya's for some time, forgetting that even the basic story is... Well, frankly a tale of woe and horror, and while the adaptation adds some whimsical adventure between each of the violent assaults on Stick Man's person, it's still almost brutal. Arya wept noisily each time she watched it, although she insisted on watching it many times. I worry that she might be getting hooked on violent emotional catharsis.

Don't misunderstand me: Stick Man is still a very good adaptation, but the source material makes the visual version just that bit more horrifying than the others. Arya still loves it, but I hope she'll go back to Room on the Broom as well.

Melody

Melody (Angharad Rhodes), Mum (Laura Bacon) and Fudge

Children's TV can be pretty hit and miss. A recent hit with Arya and with us as parents is Cbeebies Melody, in which the title character - a partially sighted girl - is given music to listen to by her mother and describes what it makes her imagine. Sometimes this links directly to the theme of the music ('The Flight of the Bumblebee' accompanies a story about a bee,) but plenty have little relation to anything but the musical effect of the piece (for example, 'Danse Macabre' evokes the story of Little Red Riding Hood.)

The animated Melody.

The imagined adventures are depicted via simple animation, usually featuring an animated Melody and her cat, Fudge; a stuffed toy in life but animate in her imagination, of course. The music chosen is a pretty eclectic grab bag, ranging from baroque to modern. The series thus introduces children to a wide array of music, as well as gently prompting their understanding of disability.

Furchester Hotel

Welcome!

"We welcome you with furry arms!"

Welcome to the Furchester Hotel, the finest half-star establishment anywhere. Run by Furnella Furchester and her husband Fergus Fuzz, and staffed by their daughter Phoebe, Furnella's nephew Elmo and an itinerant American catering worker with breathtaking impulse control issues, the Furchester is kind of like the Happiness Hotel from The Great Muppet Caper after a serious cash injection. A tottering pile of eccentric rooms with an easily distracted staff, it nonetheless manages to retain several long-term guests and attract new visitors every episode.

"Cookie monster! Mr Crumb is a guest!"
"Yeah; Mr Crumb is a cookie, Phoebe!"
"You can't eat the guests! It's strict hotel policy!"

A Sesame Street production in association with CBeebies, The Furchester Hotel is nebulously British set series about a hotel run by monsters, including Sesame's Street's Elmo and Cookie Monster. It's strictly formulaic - each episode opens with the theme song 'Welcome to the Furchester Hotel', a guest arrives, there is a problem, the Furchesters sing either 'A Furchester Never Gives Up' or 'The Catastrophe Song' depending on the scale of the problem, they put their furry heads together and solve the problem and the episode closes on 'Don't Check Out' and the end credits; at some point the Tea Time Monsters will charge through the lobby in response to the gong - but enlivened by sparky writing and energetic performances.

"I am the greatest cow sculptor in the world, or my name isn't
Henry Moo-er."

Arya loves it because it's got Cookie Monster (or, as she calls him, 'cat') in. I'm impressed by the progressive marriage in which the wife has retained her surname and the daughter has a double-barrel (Furchester-Fuzz.)

Rastamouse

Mouseland's finest

Mouseland is a one-town, paradisaical island state in the Caribbean, with a democratically elected head of state and a police force with a lax uniform code and a sideline as a reggae band.

Rastamouse, Scratchy and Zoomer are, collectively, Da Easy Crew, Mouseland's premier small town reggae band and special crime fighting agents in the employ of President Wensleydale. It may seem odd that there are no police to do this work, but the mysteries that Wensleydale calls in Da Easy Crew to solve are pretty low on the criminal scale, so perhaps the Mouseland Bureau of Investigations are dealing with the island's gang violence or drug problems or what have you.

A typical episode has Rastamouse and Da Easy Crew called in from rehearsal or a jam session because some bizarre upset is threatening the latest in Mouseland's endless parade of civic events. Maybe the carnival is short of ice sculptures, or the orphanage doesn't have enough cheese due to a missed delivery. Da Easy Crew will zip around tow, following clues and, having found the person responsible, Rastamouse will come up with a crucial plan for them to redeem themselves and 'make a bad ting good'.

The show has been criticised by some for parodying West Indian culture and accents. It's a fair cop on the accents, perhaps, but the writer is Trinidadan by birth and steeped in London's West Indian expat culture. I'm not ideally placed to comment, but it seems to me that a fellow has a right to parody his own culture if he wants to.

See! He's like a milkman
caught in flagrante.

What worries me more is the moral conduct of President Wensleydale, a mouse who is forever without pants. Okay, no mouse wears trousers in Mouseland (although women and girls wear skirts,) but it is especially noticeable in light of Wensleydale's other clothes (formal shirt, tie and cap.) Is this the kind of mouse we want to see in charge of Mouseland, especially given that he seems to be largely incompetent and reliant on Da Easy Crew to keep him out of all manner of trouble.

The parody aspect is a thorny one, but overall Rastamouse is a fun little series, and I especially like the focus on making right when you do wrong, rather than either being punished or simply saying sorry. I can think of much worse lessons to teach a child than 'you got to make a bad ting good.'

Mike the Knight

Yip, Sparkie, Evie, Mike, Squirt, Fernando, Queen Martha and Yap.

Mike the Knight is a children's animated series about the adventures of Mike the Knight, a young loner on a crusade to champion the cause of the innocent, the helpless, the powerless, in a world of criminals who operate above the law.

No, wait; that's Michael Knight.

Mike the Knight is a trainee knight (false advertising, right there) who is apparently too young to be allowed a sword and instead is armed with an expanding shield and a sword hilt which is attached to a random thing (a feather, a scroll, a candle, a handle) that is inevitably exactly what he needs to make good at the end of the episode. Each episode, he goes on adventures with his friends, invariably acts like a complete douchebag, then declares it is 'time to be a knight and do it right!' and makes amends for his dickish behaviour.

Think I'm exaggerating? In one episode he persuades his friend Trolly to take part in a tournament - with no training and crappy equipment - just so that he has someone to beat and can therefore 'win'. In another, he offers to take his dragon friend Squirt on his own adventure, but keeps showboating and hogging the glory while trying to shoehorn Squirt into a knightly (rather than dragonly) adventure.

In fairness, he always makes amends and feels bad when he realises that he's being a dick, but you'd think eventually he might learn to be more mindful of his actions.

Something Special

Ladies and gents, perhaps the bravest man in television.
No joke.

Something Special is another CBeebies show that has caught Arya's attention. Presented by Justin Fletcher and produced by former special educational needs teacher Allan Johnston, in association with the Makaton charity (which promotes the use of Makaton signing as a communication aid for chidren with learning and communication developmental difficulties). Running for more than a decade now, with some slight changes in format, it was created to promote inclusion as well as teaching and demonstrating Makaton.

Notably, veteran children's broadcaster Fletcher (also appearing on CBeebies in Justin's House and Gigglebiz) has absolutely thrown himself into the programme. He works closely on the show with children with a great range of physical and developmental disabilities, and post-Saville is basically one malicious law suit away from prison and lynching at any time. I think he's pretty awesome.

Each show has Justin interacting with children on location somewhere (ranging from a canoeing lake to the Manchester City stadium), and looking for three special things requested by Mr Tumble (Fletcher), a clown who lives in Tumbletown with a group of relatives and friends (all also Fletcher) and who sends pictures of the things Justin has to find in his spotty bag, which is transported by magic. It's actually kind of trippy, but amazing too.

When a special thing is being sought, it's shown on screen (not hidden or anything) and the audience encouraged in a short rhyme to 'wave or cheer' if they see it. Arya has learned to do so, despite the lack of an audible prompt.

Sarah & Duck Redux

Apparently some people consider Sarah & Duck to be 'appalling', on the grounds that it has no educational content (I'm paraphrasing; I was told that the precise complaint was that it doesn't teach children sign language, which is as criteria go is pretty absolutist.)

And I was thinking about this, and I don't even think that it's true. It certainly doesn't teach you sign language. It lacks The Alphablocks strong literacy content, or The Numtums mathematical slant (and, by the by, the newer series of the latter are shockingly bad, with the numeracy bits sandwiched between some uninspired 'story' segments), but there is more to life than literacy, maths and sign language, and as far as role models go, I would rather Arya turned out like Sarah than pretty much anyone else on Cbeebies.

Sarah is thoughtful, considerate, compassionate, intelligent, independent and enquiring. She never mocks the eccentricities of others, is boundlessly patient with Scarf Lady's ramblings, and seeks always to make others happy without becoming some sort of pushover. When faced with a puzzle, she seeks information, using the library and the internet. She unhesitatingly gives up her day to show the Shallots around town, or one of her wellingtons to keep Umbrella's handle dry in the rain, and rather than blaming or avoiding the pump that lets tyres go down, tries to find out what is wrong with him and help.

She's hard working, loves cooking, but always lets the narrator deal with the hot oven. She's active, riding a tandem bike with Duck, and responsible. When her friends are faced with fear or sorrow, she does all she can to cheer them up, and she looks at the world with a pure and rapturous wonder.

So, yeah; Sarah & Duck. It's not just fluff.

Sarah & Duck

Left to right: Sarah, and Duck

Sarah & Duck
Quack
Sarah & Duck
Quack
Sarah & Duck
Quack
<beat>
Sarah & Duck
Quack
- the Sarah & Duck theme song

Falling squarely into the whimsical school of children's entertainment, Sarah & Duck is an animated series telling of the adventures of Sarah and her pet/best pal Duck.

Sarah and Duck live in a quiet, suburban neighbourhood in a house which they apparently share with the Narrator.

Sarah likes sea cows and lemon water, and plays the tuba; Duck likes tractors and bread.

They have many friends, including Scarf Lady and her talking handbag, their opposite numbers Flamingo and John, the four lively shallots who live in the garden, and the Moon.

The episode clip above features a race in knitted hot air balloons. I did want to have the one with what is basically a vampire bicycle pump, but it's not available in the UK. Neither of these is an atypical plot for Sarah & Duck.

Arya seems very taken with Sarah & Duck, and even sings along to the theme tune. I think it's an adorable little show, and I picked up the first DVD the other day.

Watch with Father: Alphablocks

I fucking love the Alphablocks

Just as a note, for a review of a children's cartoon, I'm going to swear a bit in this one.

Alphablocks is a series which recounts the adventures of 26 letters, each capable of self replicating and of attaching to other letters to form a gestalt entity, and of moulding the very fabric of reality by the simple act of holding hands to spell out words.

It's a simple enough concept, but what sells it for me is the characterisation of the different letters. A is perpetually-bruised from a combination of clumsiness and the apples which fall on her head; B and D being mirrors of each other (the Alphablocks are 'naturally' lower case) are a sister and brother in glam makeup, the one playing bass, the other drums; I is totally self-absorbed, while Q is U's stalker. N is always negative, T loves his tea, and R thinks she's a pirate. X is a super hero with X-Ray vision.

Each letter prefers to use words beginning with their letter (X usually sticks to 'ex' beginnings), and the things that they make by holding hands lead them on adventures, often including songs.

Oh, yes; E has a secret identity as Magic E, who as he is also silent E is basically a ninja in a top hat.

It's not all fun and games though. In one of a series of episodes exploring vowel digraphs, A is unable to say her own name due to hiccups and suffers a crippling identity crisis. I cry every time I watch it, no bullshit.

The depth of references in the series is exceptional. When Y is refused entry to the vowels Barbershop Quintet, he sings a sad song in a 50s melancholic stylee (he also drops in the word 'yacht' just to fuck with people). I name checks 'Stayin Alive' and 'I Will Survive' at her disco party. C and K even make a joke about A Tribe Called Quest in their football episode, which even some of my work colleagues probably wouldn't get.

So, yes; I love the Alphablocks.

Watch with Father: The Pajanimals

I think they pretty much had us at 'Jim Henson'

Hannah has suggested that I review some of the programmes that we watch with Arya, in part as a means of exorcising the knee-jerk sarcasm which will otherwise taint her worldview for life.

Produced by the Jim Henson Company, PBS Kid Sprout and Belfast-based Sixteen South, The Pajanimals is a series about a family of four Muppet children; the Pajanimals. Each episode begins five minutes before bedtime; the Pajanimals play a game, then get ready for bed, in the course of which some complication arises. As a result, one or more of the four has trouble sleeping, asks for or is asked if they need help, at which the four convene on one bed and travel to a magical land to seek counsel and solace from a wise mentor figure. At the end of the episode they return to their own beds and their mother - who has apparently been watching the whole magical transport bit - sings them the Pajanimals' lullaby.

The show's original voices - those of adult pupeteers - are dubbed over by British child actors for the Nick Jr showings we mostly watch.

The four Pajanimals are:

• Sweetpea Sue - a horse, and possibly the oldest of the Pajanimals, taking a lead role in practical matters. She is the sensible one, but also prone to worry. When she is asking for help, it is usually due to her fear of unknown situations. The American Sweetpea Sue has a strong southern accent, but her British counterpart is slightly Northern. Her signature songs include the weirdly sinister 'Twirly Whirly' and getting ready for bed number 'Stick to the Plan'.
• Apollo - a dog, in the same year as Sweetpea at school (they both start in the Season 2 episode 'Off to My School Adventure',) Apollo is the most active and intelligent of the four, but has some serious anger management and competition issues, leading to his signature song: 'I'm Mad!'
• Cowbella - a cow. She is the girly one, loving all things pink and princessy, and her flaw is stubbornness and a bossy streak (her signature song is 'Cowbella Says').
• Squacky - a duck, and the youngest of the four. Squacky is the mad one, and a lot of his problems relate to feelings of isolation. He has a high degree of dependency on his blankie, which doubles as a cape for his super-hero costume. His signature song is 'The Pajama Freeze Dance'.

The four live with their mum and dad in a large house, and share a single bed-and-playroom with its own ensuite and walk-in closet. My assumption is that they are adopted, and probably came up through the foster system, based on both their personalities (they are insecurely attached to their parents, both highly competitive and protective of one another, and each has a pathological dependency on a totem; Squacky's blankie, Cowbella's unicorn, Apollo's nightlight and Sweetpea's daisy cushion. Squacky also habitually refers to their mum and dad as Mother and Father, instead of Mom and Dad) and on the fact that they belong to four different species and two classes (Squacky is clearly defined as a duck, not that this stops him displaying the same uniform row of teeth as the ruminant Cowbella and the carnivore Apollo after brushing; Sweetpea only ever has her two large, front teeth).

Each episode - with the exception of the last episode - follows the same pattern:

1. The Pajanimals play, which may include a song. some issue arises that will later cause problems, usually an incident provoking fear, anger or uncertainty in one Pajanimal, but sometimes a fight between two or more.
2. The Pajanimals get ready for bed, which again, may include a song.
3. One or more Pajanimals has trouble sleeping, help is requested or prompted for.
4. The Pajanimals assemble on one bed to 'bundle up, huddle up, snuggle up and go!', and the bed flies off. Sweetpea's bed changes into a hot air balloon when this happens, Apollo's into a rocket, Cowbella's a coach and Squacky's either a submarine or a plane.
5. The Pajanimals visit a magical land and seek advice from their friend there, who resolves the problem and sings a song, not necessarily in that order.
6. The Pajanimals return to their own beds and their mother sings 'La-la-lullaby' over the credits.

Now, this is all well and good, but I question the competence of some of the characters to offer advice. To take some examples:

• Jerry the Bear is as clingy and insecure as they come, always delighted to see the 'PJs' arrive and devastated to see them leave. He is more balanced in later episodes, in which he shares the Friendly Forest with Otis the Owl, but he still has way too much emotional investment to be an effective therapist.
• Bedtime Bunny is a narcoleptic rabbit from the Land of Hush who masquerades as a peace and wellness therapist specialising in meditation. It is doubtful whether anyone with so much trouble staying awake should be trusted with unsupervised childcare.
• Edwin is a delusional fantasist who uses his custodianship of Storybook Land to inhabit a range of guises; harmless enough as a king or a wizard, but worrying when he passes himself off as a dentist and works on Apollo's teeth!

For all of this, I have a great fondness for the Pajanimals. It's wonderfully paced to help settle a child for sleep, and in later years will have far more to say to her than her other bedtime favourite, In the Night Garden.