Bury Me in the Night Garden

Right now my son is watching a children’s show called In the Night Garden while he eats his supper.

Yes, my son watches TV occasionally while he eats; I’m a horrible parent. I watched TV when I was a lad while eating supper and I turned out fine. I will kill anyone who says otherwise and they can join the legions of Undead I’m creating in my basement.

The world of children’s TV shows is an interesting place and I’m sure its a lucrative business if you find that magical formula which will hold a child’s attention span for more than three minutes.

You’ve got your high end shows, ones like The Wiggles or The Backyardigans. These are the shows that parents don’t have a problem watching with their children – its a class of children’s TV show all in its own. The better class of show generally seems to incorporate music and teaches the child a lesson in a subtle way.

You can’t be too obvious with the lernin’ portion of the show; else you fall into the trap of becoming a Dora the Explorer. Dora falls in the next category – slightly more irritating to parents. This is the type of show that a parent can put on to keep a kid entertained while he or she has to do stuff around the house.

At least I assume, I don’t tend to do a lot around the house so therefore my children’s TV show watching falls into the first category.

There’s the broad spectrum shows – like Thomas the Tank Engine and all the merry trains on the Island of Sodor. This is a show that has a catchall audience. My boy has been watching it for a year and a half and gets as much, if different things, out of it now as he ever did.

But there’s another darker class of shows. These are the shows that parents hope their kids never get interested, but the makers of the shows are smart enough to be able to hook the kid in quick. Back in the 90s the penultimate of this class of children’s shows was the Teletubbies. In the current incarnation the show is called In the Night Garden.

Adults, when forced to watch this show, are left wondering what the hell is going on. Perspective is all over the place. There are several different characters that act independently of each other and only occasionally come together. The first time I saw all of these characters interacting together none of them were the size I thought they were – the little guy was actually the biggest of the bunch and the biggest one was the smallest.

I guess if I was in the mood to learn from the show it would teach me not to judge based on sight. Screw that – sight is good for only one thing – judging things.

And then there’s the aural cacophony that is the “dialogue” of the show. There’s all kinds of nonsensical utterings, that as an adult you feel like you have to make sense of – for instance, when Makka Pakka says: “Makka Pakka” he/she/it could be meaning anything from “Yo Iggle Piggle, what up in da HOOD!” to “Yo, you blue MF, what’ch’u knock ovah my pil ‘o stones for? I bust a cap in yo’ass”. You just can’t tell with Makka Pakka.

I hope that when I pass on, and I will eventually, they bury me in the Night Garden – I’m going to leave a letter saying it was a gangland initiation ritual and that they should look to the 11th Ponty Pint.

As bad as the show is though – the boy likes it and that’s they key.