Christmas is coming! It cannot be stopped! It will kill us all! Aaaaaarrrgggh!!!

It's been one of those years. Economy? Dead. Hope? Dead. Michael Jackson? Dead. Karl Malden? Dead. Patrick Swayze? Dead. Konstantin Feoktistov; Danny La Rue; Jeremy Clarkson? Dead, dead, and still fucking alive. 2009. A year destined to end in tears. A year that'll have your eye out.

But wait. Set aside the vodka and barbiturates for a moment. Pop the "End is Nigh" sandwich-board back under the stairs. In the midst of this thick fog of despair and tooth-gnashing there are still oases of joy and wonder. Well…an oasis at least. Singular (but, y'know, it's better than nothing).

On Friday, 11th of December - two weeks after its tedious, official twin bores the knickerbockers off the nation – the 3rd annual Manky Toy Show will be broadcast live from fústar HQ. The format will, in the great tradition of…great traditions, be almost exactly the same as the previous two years. Booze, shit toys, spontaneous analysis, exhaustion. You're all invited. Every last sad & stinking one of you.

The vibe is (as always) – interactive. So here's what I need you to do. a) Go forth and purchase a manky toy for less than 5 Euro (budget stretched for special occasion); b) Take some pictures of said toy and write some words about its shitness (or its charm); c) Send said pictures and words to me. I will do the rest.

Oh and don't forget to actually turn up at 9 PM on the evening in question. Otherwise I'll be here pitching my A-material to an empty hall. Like a sad and deluded fantasist. Unwrapping Transformer knock-offs as the world falls apart. *sniff*

Related Posts:
None for Anyone in the Audience: The 2008 Manky Toy Show – Live!
To Whom it Concerns…It’s The Manky Toy Show (Live)! [2007]

9.00 – A pair of cheap, stained curtains open. A thin figure bounds jovially through them and onto the stage. A glamorous, heavily pregnant, assistant follows (her movements cautious & wary). The scene reeks of tawdry & thrown-together charm – like a school nativity play performed by enthusiastic but bumbling & incompetent children.

[Virtual applause]

Ok. Alright. Thank you. Settle Down. Take your seats.

[More virtual applause]

Yes. Lovely. Hup! Hup! Thank you. Yes.

[Even more virtual applause. Louder and more ferocious this time. Almost deafening - with an edge of hysteria]

Yes! Lovely! LOVELY! Please stop… Please God stop… I'm scared… You're all MARVELLOUS! HELP ME! Oh Christ above in heaven…MY NERVES ARE SHATTERED!

[Instant, virtual silence]

[Slowly recovering composure] Ah? Yes. OK.

Welcome, welcome and thrice welcome dearest friends to the 2nd annual Manky Toy Show. I can't see you, and I can't feel you, but I know you're there. I can hear you breathing – heavily. It sounds like millions of tiny 1s and 0s smacking into my ear-hole. A not entirely unpleasant sensation.

Anyway, tonight's spectacular promises (in the spirit of one-upmanship) to be bigger, better, looser & more improvised than last year's. A Super Persil Ultra Plus to 2007′s boring old Persil Ultra. Like last Christmas, I'm being ably assisted by the fabulous (and admirably diligent) Jess. Unlike last year, Jess's movements and behaviour are being controlled by a tiny, internal puppeteer – our (currently) unborn daughter. If Jess starts flipping out and acting weird(er) then blame the wee passenger. If I start flipping out and acting weird(er) then blame the booze.

Away we go.

9.05 – I say "admirably diligent" but when I went downstairs to get her a minute ago she was passed out fast asleep on the couch. You can't get the help…

9.08 – First up, one for the lovely ladies. No prizes for guessing the inspiration.

9.10 – No, it's not a My Little Pony your honour. Not by a long chalk. My client's product is clearly marked "Fascination of Pegasus".

9.12 – The chief (only?) attraction of this one is the name. Fascination of Pegasus – a fascination I'm sure we've all felt at one time or another. Jess is tearing open the packaging now and looking confused. "What's up?", I ask. "It's a bit skinny for a horse", says she.

A "horse"? Pchah! Nil pois for Jess in the mythology quiz. This is no horse – but the magnificent winged steed of the gods.

Actually…it is a little skinny…

9.17 – A curious feature of "Fascination of Pegasus" and all other My Little Pony knock-offs is that they imitate a product that is surely well past its sell by date. While I don't (honest!) loiter round the girl sections of local toy shops I was under the impression that the Pony phenomenon died out sometime back in the 90s. So why then do the Manky Manufacturers persist in, yes, flogging a dead horse?

9.23 – Jess also notes that one of the wings comes off rather easily. A crucial and critical design failure for a horse that soars through heaven's lofty firmament. Wouldn't fancy it landing on my head (or the bonnet of my car – if I had one), but I have to admit that (design issues aside) it has a strangely attractive face. For a winged horse.

9.27 – The sponsors are roaring commands in my ear-piece so we must now pause for a scheduled ad-break. From the wonder & magic of mystical (and plastical) Pegasus to the good ol' pastoral charms of a lactating cow. Moo!

9.33 – Ah, lovely Milky – with her preee-tend milk and her luscious lady lips. If you thought Pegasus was hot, this one's a ride altogether! The glee with which "young fella A" pumps her tail is perfectly understandable. If all cows were this attractive the days of lonely stalkers would, surely, be over.

9.36 – Commenter "Chimp" has this to say about the science of Milky:

What unknown substance converts water into “pretend milk�? Anthrax would be my guess…

Not entirely unfeasible. Back in the 70s Anthrax was available from even the most basic corner shop. They used to advertise it as a tonic against rickets.

9.40 – Jays, look at the time! My lovely assistant is fit for the bed already. Let's crack on. Toy number 2 please.

9.42 – Nothing like the glamour and sophistication of 007. And this is certainly nothing like the glamour and sophistication of 007. In fact, several of the objects list the agent as No. 707 – licence to look like a cross between Sean Penn & Nicholas Cage.

9.45 – Jess's verdict = A shamelessly wretched piece of mankiness. So bad they've lowered the price from the standard 2 Euro to a sub-standard 1.70. It's not wholly without its charms though. I mean, who could fail to be seduced and intrigued by "Passport of Universal"? I'm intrigued to see what's inside. What kind of magical diplomatic contents could allow the bearer to pass unhindered throughout the entire universe?

Answer: Blank grey cardboard…

Boo!

9.50 – A stern, but (as it turns out) wholly unnecessary warning, can be found at the foot of the box.

Do not use any bullets/darts/arrows or any other projectiles except those supplied with this toy.

Fine so, says I. Let's have a crack with the ammo supplied.

Oh wait. There isn't any. Bastards!

9.57 – The girls may be growing restless with all this man-nerd Bond talk, so let's turn to something pink, plastic and oozing class.

9.59 – I love the disconnect between the promise of Sweet Rita as seen on the box (smiling, magical, tiara-wearing princess) and the reality of what's inside. In Jess's words – "A sullen, trashy, balding whore with a missing thumb on her right hand".

10.05 – Commenter "Simon McGarr" offers this on Rita:

Sweet Rita may have Mentalist powers, betrayed by her distended forehead.

There could be a clue here alright. What if she once looked like the Sweet Rita the box promises? The Rita of smiles, regal waves, elegant balls etc. Through some unimaginably cruel and traumatic ordeal she has somehow been reduced to this lumpy-headed trash-queen we see before us. Trauma, stay with me, can often bring deeply buried powers to the fore(head). Are we now seeing a Rita who stalks the night like a mentalist vigilante wreaking havoc on all of mankind? Using the awesome powers of her extended (and demented) mind to…er…make leering men's cocks fall off…or something…

23.13 – Time for a) Another word from our sponsors, and, b) A quick slash (this Montepulciano D'Abruzzo is going through me like preee-tend milk).

10.18 – Sweet mother of suffering bestiality! That's not eating a Flake, that's inhaling it. One half expects a hot jet of molten Fry's Chocolate Cream to come squirting from the tip.

10.21 – Subtext? "Flake – The next best thing to sucking off a horse".

10.26 – An hour and a half (and the bone's of a bottle) in and it's time for our first super-duper-heroes.

10.28 – Manky Toy manufacturers have a genius for surfing the wave of the Zeitgeist. There's not a single cultural kiddie phenomenon that they fail to respond to with a flood of shit products. Within minutes of the recent Robert Downey Jr film hitting the screens you can bet a year's supply of preee-tend milk that the designers of Iron Storm were hard at work. I'm guessing (from experience) that the factories in question have thousands of generic, superhero/Power Rangers-esque body parts waiting for a crude paint job and a spot of opportune repackaging. A quick head change, a quick splash of the appropriate colour and "Bingo!" – you've got Iron Man, Spidey or whoever else the kiddies are currently going mental for.

10.32 – Like other mank before it, Iron Storm sets toy enthusiasts a very modest and manageable task.

Collect Them All? It seems like I just have! Hooray for me. Everyone's a winner.

One wonders if Golden Storm and Iron Storm have a relationship based on partnership and universe-saving, or if (instead) they're locked in an endless war of gouging, slicing and dicing antagonism. Who's the baddie? Is there a baddie?!

This ambiguity is messing with my head…

10.44 – At this point I though a musical interlude might have been in order. Something to soothe, relax and unwind you. Something to unfrazzle your nerve-ends and loosen your rigid neck muscles. Unfortunately the Digiboard 5000 has tones so maddeningly shrill and flat that exposure to them would make your ears leak torrents of pus and blood. I'll show you a pic though, and Jess will test it out (taking one for the team).

22.48 – Yes, the "Digital Display" is, in fact, a sticker. Yes, the abundant text promises a multitude of settings and a plethora of pre-set songs. No, the product doesn't live up to any of its promises…

The pre-set songs are all instantly recognisable classics.

Embrace.

In Metal.

Fluestr.

How Long Jordan.

Miss You.

Sensitive.

Medicine.

Miss you Rcality.

Hard to pick a favourite there.

22.55 – Fans of "How Long Jordan" may be surprised (and aggrieved) to discover that their beloved tune sounds suspiciously like "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" when given the Digiboard treatment. Likewise, the seminal "Miss you Rcality" has more than a touch of "There's No Place Like Home" about it. I think these anomalies may owe something to the fact that the instrument seems to be stuck on its "Rercussion" setting.

23.03 Sweet Rita's life may be one of skanky, big-headed misery but at least she doesn't have to suffer alone. She has a pal. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you (and please take her) the beautiful Candie.

23.09 – Jess's initial assessment of Candie's "style"? "Rural, shell-shocked, milkmaid slapper from the 80s". Meeow!

23.11 – With her special no-flatten tits (see comments), her come-hither lips, and her retro-chic sense of style you'd imagine that Candie would have the fake Action Men (i.e. Action Dans) lining up in their droves. If, however, even these abundant charms aren't enough she has a Ace up her sleeve (i.e. on her neck).

Her "Musical Blinking Necklace".

It has powers to soothe (or deafen) even the wildest beast.

23.19 – The pause between the tinny theme song from Love Story and the tinny whatever the fuck it was (Be not Afraid? Love me Tender?) is obviously the pause in which the potential suitor is saying, "Er, is that the time? I really must be going. I've got a big meeting tommor…"

Bleep, Bleep, Bleep! Bleep, Bleep, Bleep!
Bleep, Bleep, Bleep, Bleeeeeep, Bleep!

There's no escaping Candie once she's locked that blinking tractor beam onto you.

23.26 – Commenter "Embarr" helpfully tells us that we can learn how to play "Candie's Song" on the Digiboard here. The only mistake she makes is in assuming that the Digiboard functions in a manner that closely resembles a conventional keyboard. It really, really doesn't…

The black keys are purely ornamental. Actually, so are most of the white keys.

In a new and unexpected development, however, our cat has stamped all over the object and mashed the correct sequence to ensure "Happy Birthday to You" (or "In Metal" as it's better known) has come screeching out. Make it stop!

23.36 – A few final pieces of Candie goodness before we shove on. First – a warning. Despite her best attempts to convince us otherwise, it turns out that she's simply "not suitanble".

23.40 – Subject to technical change or change of [sic] color? What…after purchase?!

What we appear to have on our hands here is an adapting, evolving and mutating doll. I'm also intrigued as to what "possible correspondence" I could have with the relevant manufacturer. Dear China…

23.47 – Hang on a mo. One of our cats (the Digiboard smashing one) has puked and pissed on the floor. A combination of stress, cystitis and pure dementedness. I'll get me marigolds & a mop & be back.

00.01 – And we're back. I bet Pat Kenny's never had to break off mid-flow to mop up urine and vomit. Spoilt rotten that bastard is.

When I say, we're back, I mean – I'm back. Preggers McGeggers has had to call it a night and is now wrapped up in bed with an improving book.

No rest for the wicked. Let's carry on with our dis-improving mank. Where we? Ah yes, still on Candie! Jesus, she's dominating the night. Her power is matchless. One last pic before we (finally and mercifully) put her to sleep.

00.07 – There's something about the sweep of her hair and that teasingly exposed back (and I mean exposed – look at those batteries. Drool!) that gives the image an undeniable erotic charge. Countering this arousal are the grim words, "If her voice sounds weak…" – suggestive, as they are, of the slow fade-out into eternal silence that happens to us all. A moving moment. And a sobering one…needed after 3/4 of a bottle of plonk.

00.15 – Bye bye Candie, hello tonight's first piece of donated mank. As the donor (the absent Fergal Crehan. Where is he, the divil?) put it – "A toy so manky that it even has words like 'Terrible' and 'Horrible' plastered all over it". A rare display of honesty in an otherwise mendacious world. As it turns out, however, it's not 'arf bad.

00.22 – Before we even think of delving into the contents, just look at the box's exterior.

"Who's Played These Terrible Jokes On Me?"

That's not a young chap who's merely been the "victim" of a few harmless pranks that he can laugh off later. That's a broken young fella who's just had his self-esteem, his faith in mankind, and all hopes & dreams for the future utterly shattered.

He looks like he's been lured into believing (and the illusion must have been carefully built up over time) that the pranksters were his dearest friends. They loved him. They respected him.

It was all a lie! All a set-up for these cruel and brutal jokes. He's irreparably smashed…

00.31 – On to the contents (and I had to cheat a bit and open this earlier). Cue wide-eyed surprise and wild delight when these were the first things that fell out of the box.

The "must have" (but "never had"), lusted after and fetishised object of a childhood spent reading imported American comics. Mine at last!

Glad to see that "Wing Shing" are carrying on a fine tradition and brazenly over-selling their product.

Scientific Marvel of the Century

Controversial. I'd be tempted to bet against if we could gather the world's foremost scientists in my bedroom ("Watch out for that cat puke, Mr. Hawking") and put it to a vote.

00.47 – A "Snappy Gum" fandom seems to be forming itself in the comments section. Time to give the punters what they want.

2 points.

1) If you're going to try and trick an unsuspecting pal with "Snappy Gum" (and why wouldn't you? It's gas!) then try and avoid versions that actually have the word "Snappy" printed in big fat letters on the packaging. Tends to lessen the surprise.

2) Isn't "Wow, Wow" a rather curious reaction to finding one's finger trapped in a novelty gum packet?

00.55 "Embarr" is off I see. Darragh soon to depart? We're down to the die hards, and it's time to get hardcore. I'm going to offer myself a lovely piece of Winnie's Pure Mint Snappy Gum. Bring on the pain!

00.59 – The tension is unbearable. I'm teasing it out as slowly as I possibly can and remembering why I hated these yokes as a child. That horrible sense of something sudden, jolting, painful and unpleasant about to happen. I'm downing a goodly swig of vino to steel my nerves.

As I do so I can't help but be amused by the instructions on the box's rear.

Serve your friend the item & ask him to take the gum himself.

This is obviously designed to help slow-witted pranksters avoid inflicting the intended damage on themselves.

"Fancy a chewing gum?"

"Sure, here you are. AAAHHHHH!!!"

01.05 – Kabang! As with all such things (well, apart from getting shot etc) the expectation was far worse than the eventuality. No pain at all. The spring mechanism is well-cushioned and child-proofed. I'm mildly impressed, and half-tempted to cry "Wow" (once only).

01.11 – Next, the never-popular "Fly & Spider".

No instructions on this one. What's the story? Are you supposed to sprinkle the little fellas on your Dad's steak (and sit back to watch the hilarity, or savage beating, unfold)? It's unclear…especially because the elderly gent pictured seems to be rather enjoying the fact that his meat is teeming with insect/arachnid life.

01.17 – Well into overtime now so we'd best leave the fake (pretzel-shaped) poos for another day. Just looking again at the packaging for the "X-Ray Gogs". Imagine they did actually work? The kid who's so thrillingly looking at the bones of his own hand would soon find himself riddled with cancer.

"I jus' wanted ta see the bones in my own hand, Doc. Just once. And then I couldn't stop!"

"You're a very sick boy now, Jimmy, and you're almost certainly going to die…"

[tearfully] "It was worth it, Doc! I saw my pal Joey's sister's undies through her dress! I'm ready to die now, Doc!"

1.33 – Perfect timing. The last sup of vino tinto has been gulped down (*hic*), the last of the stragglers are winding their weary ways toward their comfy beds, and the last of my energy has disappeared into the December ether. Time to pack up, put things back in boxes (tomorrow…) and say goodnight (blowing farewell kisses of joy and love as I do so).

The "Winter Wonderland Girls" will take us away to the black 'n' white (and endlessly chipper) land of nod.

[Curtains Close]

Friday, 5th December, 2008 @ 9.00 p.m.

Pencil that date and that time into your diaries. If you don't have a diary then sprint madly out the door this instant and buy one. If you don't have a pencil…then, God help us, the recession must be shafting you most brutally.

So what's so special about Friday, 5th December, 2008 @ 9.00 p.m? Well, that's when the 2nd annual (Live) Manky Toy Show kicks off. The date chosen is not entirely random or arbitrary – being exactly one week after RTÉ bores us all to slow and painful death with its own Lame Lame Show version.

So if, tomorrow night, you find yourself compelled to put your boot through the TV (in a vain & desperate attempt to utterly destroy Pat Kenny's fat, monstrous face) then join us here on the 5th for a jolly antidote to the Late Late's festering poison. There's nothing like 2 Euro mank to put a seasonal spring in your step. It beats succumbing to impotent rage and gnawing your fists into bloody stumps at any rate.

Don't forget that I'm also encouraging active audience participation. If you happen to stumble across a Manky Toy that you feel warrants inclusion then please don't hesitate to send it to Fústar HQ (address available on request). It'll help foster the right collaborative spirit…and save me money.

Friday, 5th December, 2008 @ 9.00 p.m.

Cancel all other plans.

Related Posts:
The Toy Show: An Alternative
To Whom it Concerns…It's The Manky Toy Show (Live)!
The Manky Toy Show 2008: The Countdown Begins…

Ask square and un-hip members of society what the highlight of their 2007 Christmas season was and they'll most likely answer: the dinner; time spent with loved ones; browsing through the bumper issue of the RTÉ Guide etc. Cool cats, in contrast, will instantly acknowledge that one yuletide event left all other seasonal experiences paling in comparison.

I speak, of course, of The Manky Toy Show – this blog's (award-nominated, oooh!) attempt to spit blood in the eye of P. Kenny & his bloated, consumerist love-in (a.k.a The Late Late Toy Show).

As the perceptive among you may have guessed, that intro was my way of saying – "We (my lovely assistant Jess and I) are doing it again this year".¹ Yay!

Like last time, it'll be "Live" – with yours truly opening boxes and offering unscripted (and incredulous) reactions on the fly. As I do that, you (dear reader) will hopefully be banging out witty comments between mouthfuls of turkey & sips of red wine.² In between there'll be bits of music & pieces of video to get (and keep) you in seasonal mood.

Commenting ain't the only way to participate though. You can (and please do) send me physical/actual Manky Toys by post for review and inclusion. Though the "rules" of Manky Toy Monday usually restrict outlay to 2 Euro per item I think we can make exceptions on this splendid & special occasion.

Spend up to 5 quid if you like. Go nuts!

No date set yet (or "yet set"?) for the "show" but it night be cool to hold it on the same night as RTÉ's official cack-fest, no?

Watch this space, make some suggestions, and (if you feel so inclined) send me some stuff.³

Related Posts:
The Toy Show: An Alternative
To Whom it Concerns…It's The Manky Toy Show (Live)!

1. Well, "We are doing it again this year" is also my way of saying we're doing it again this year. But you see what I mean. [back]
2. Pre-Christmas turkey and red wine to be provided by yourselves. I'm not made of money. [back]
3. Fústar HQ postal address provided on request. [back]

9.00 – Hup! Hup! Quiet down now.

Welcome dear friends, lads and lassies, boys and girls, mices and meeses, to the first ever fustar.info Manky Toy Show. We have a great live program (un)prepared for you tonight. Music, mirth, merriment and (most importantly) Manky Toys.

Unlike our Late Late cousin there'll be none of the chipper, "up-with-people-ness" of the Billy Barry Brats, and no selling out (like big corpo-whores) to "the man". Everything seen here cost 2 Euros or less and neither Mattel nor Hasbro has greased my palm with silver (even though the night is young and I remain open to offers).

Let us begin and get ourselves in the mood with some music. Two unlikely neighbours. One olde Englishe castle. An absent Sir Percival.

9.04 – Is it just me or does Bowie carry this air of coiled menace ("Sir Percival let's me use his piano when he's away")?! Bing looks quite vulnerable in that cardigan. Speaking of which, that's what I'm wearing for the occasion tonight. And I've got a dog, a log fire, a pipe, and another dog (actually 2 cats).

9.06 – On to the first toy. It's a delightful slice of poor-man's Lego, simply called "Navvy". Jess (my lovely assistant) is opening the box now.

9.09 – She's busily putting it together so we'll leave her to it for a few moments. Can I draw your attention to the following disclaimer on the back of the box?

Specifications, colours and contents may vary from illustrations.

And contents?! That's not exactly confidence-inspiring. First glance suggests it appears fairly close to the depiction on the box however. By that I mean the box doesn't contain jelly babies…or coal.

9.15 – She's struggling with the wheels, which nattily have the legend "Jun Long Toys" inscribed on them. One wonders what "Lego purist" Bob Byrne would make of "Navvy". He's about 5 times the size of a conventional Lego man and rather robust (Navvy that is…not Bob).

9.19 – Toy completed. It's huge and, in Jess's words, "Not manky, though slightly delicate". The steering wheel turns, the knob to lift the shovel yoke goes up and down, Navvy's pedestal/cabin spins around. "Jun Long Toys" have come up with a winner here. A toy so not-manky it would make a genuinely generous gift. How disappointing…

Only thing that marks it as a 2 Euro special is a non-detachable baseball cap (not pictured on the box, as warned) and that Navvy's "freckles" look distinctly unhealthy. More like the pox of the chicken.

9.25 – Hoorah! We have at least one audience member. The lovely Simon McGarr, loyally joining in "from far away through the magic of N800 and phone internet connection".

9.29 – Half an hour in and time for the first word from one of our sponsors. Check it out. Toys every hip, 2007 youngster will want in his/her stocking.

9.33 – From the days when toy advertising was…surprisingly pedestrian. The Neanderthal baddie just stood there waiting for the Action Copter to grab him. And what about the "Sea Wolf"?

The action team submarine that actually dives and surfaces.

By diving it seems to mean sinking slowly to the bottom in an uncontrolled manner. It nearly crushed an innocent (and alarmed) Goldfish for Christ's sake.

"Bullet Man" is, surely, one of the worst ever additions to the Action Man universe. A "hero" with but one ability – sliding down a piece of twine until he lands head first on the ground. Go Bullet Man!!

9.39 – We're back and moving on to toy number two. And what a "number two" it is.

This one will have the kiddies excirah and delirah I'm sure. It's the "Spider-Man Telephone". Actually a stiff plastic figure that looks (in Jess's words) like a small boy wearing an ill-fitting Spider-Man outfit. The box warrants a bit of close scrutiny. In the top right corner is, for no particular reason, the "Baby face in the sun" thing from Teletubbies. Half-way down we see a picture of a prone Spidey with a light shining from a cavity in his skull. The legend proclaims:

Nighttime a bankable actor Electric torch use.

Nice and clear. Next pic shows Spidey walking and promises, "Feet can sway". We've tried, and they can't.

9.49 – I've cheated a bit with this one. He needed 2 (non-included) batteries so I had to do a bit of "one I made earlier" stuff. This included a natty video, which showcases the weird (and very loud) things that happen when you try and call your mother for a chat.

9.53 – Unlike "Navvy" (who does what he says on the tin) this is a deeply confusing and upsetting toy. Some odd singing, a dog barking, a lingo I can't make head nor tail off. Plus, as Jess notes, by using Spidey to make a phone call you can't avoid speaking into his crotch. Whether that's a plus or a minus is, I suppose, down to your own tastes and predilections. The torch is pretty nifty though. Nighttime a bankable actor indeed.

9.58 – Simon may be on to something here:

As regards the packaging- “Nighttime a bankable actor Electric torch use�- this is the kind of secret code that would-be spidermen with buttons inset to their torsos should be able to crack in mere minutes.

That'll have me awake all night…

10.00 – One hour gone. Time to pour myself a soothing glass of Cote de Nuits-Villages (1999). If I were pushed to describe it I'd say it was robust, full-bodied, red, wet and…er…tasty. The blurb on the back of the bottle is somewhat more fanciful and flowery:

To taste our wines is like living through a dream, like listening to a poem, or perhaps a symphony.

Yup. Like I said. Red and wet.

10.10 – And now, methinks, another ad break. Prepare to enjoy the mendacity-tastic adventures of everyone's favourite recently-deceased daredevil:

10.16 – It's hard not to weep bitter tears when you see some of the impossible carry-on Evil was only ever able to achieve in ads. My Evil tended to rocket out of the blocks before veering wildly into a wall, or (simply) falling over. That said, the gruesome looking crash he suffers right at the end of the first advertisement adds an unexpectedly disturbing note to proceedings. Six months in traction at the very least I'd say.

The third segment is a bit more modest in its claims, given that one of Evil's "super abilities" is the ability to "drive straight". Wow!

10.23 – I think we could well be heading for overtime at this rate. Anyway, moving slowly on to our next offering. With a scarcity of Wiis doing the rounds this Christmas it might be time to consider the charms of "PolyBlock One" – "BSC Bloch System Controller With DFE Double Flash Effect" (as the box proudly, and unhelpfully, declares).

10.27 – Jess is ripping the box to shreds. It's out, and…there are no bloody batteries included. This despite it listing 2AA Batteries among its features. Bah! Hang on…we'll tear them out of the Spidey phone.

10.32 – Ok we're off. There are some bleeping sounds, some blocky shapes that look like antibodies, I'm trying to figure out which buttons to press. Shit! "Game Over"!

10.34 – Right. This is beginning to look like outright fraud! The "PolyBlock One" (no relation to a product from Sony) seems to be designed to bamboozle you with beeps, randomly shifting squares, and buttons that say things like "rotate" and "sound". I've been playing video games since I was a pale, short-trousered youth and I've no fucking idea what's going on! Listen to the instructions…

4. Rotate – Rotate the falling element/game select.
5. Down/Game – For each kinds of game select different number forward.
8. Move the Dragon Upward.

What element? What Dragon?? All I see are squares that fail to respond to my frantic button mashing. Then, 2 seconds later, "Game Over".

22.40 – Hold everything. Jess has just declared, "I think I'm getting the hang of this. You have to shoot things using the rotate button". My brain hurts.

10.44 – Folks, we could be looking at the mankiest toy this blog has ever come into contact with. It's reach so far exceeds its grasp that it's like a burst and leaking Stretch Armstrong. Every time I look at "Feature. 1″ on the back of the box I feel the red mist rising.

1. Lots of exciting game in it.

The disclaimer should read, "If you can find it". Jess says she "saw a Tetris-style game briefly" but that she "doesn't know what happened to it" or how she found it. "PolyBlock One", it seems, is all about the (deeply frustrating) quest.

10.52 – To lift our spirits we're dipping into the Cote de Nuits-Villages again (not much left) and giving us all a brief musical interlude. I love Judy Garland as much as any straight man ever did and Meet Me in St. Louis is a fave of mine. It has "lots of exciting song in it".

10.59 – Shortly after that song finishes Tootie (Margaret O'Brien) runs into the yard and violently destroys the snowmen in one of the best bits of wild child anger ever seen on screen. Gwan Tootie!

11.02 – Well, we're into time added on for wrist/finger typing injuries. No matter, there's still a drop or two of vino left. Plus, Jess has brought me up a luverly packet of Salt & Pepper Tuc to keep me going. Let's press on…

Time to whip out a gender-inscribed one for the girls. All pink 'n' flowery:

11.09 – Ah "Disco Diva" – a toy straight from the Bratz school of giant-eyed fashionista sassiness. A small (but important) warning on the bottom of the box reads:

Please note: CD Discs do not function or play different tunes.

Hmmm. Putting this to the test.

11.16 – The three plastic discs included read "Pop, "Rock & "Disco" but they all sound like brutal hard-core techno. Driving rhythms and hard, savage edges that call to mind moments from Lost Highway. Concerned parents should note that the "Mini CD Player" is pink and friendly with a handbag style strap – so there's a "little princess" air of softness to offset the manic doom noise of the CDs.

It should also be noted that the "buttons" (stop, play, repeat etc) are merely stickers that (like the "CDs") don't actually do anything. There is but one purple switch that makes things happen and allows nervous girls to cycle through the 3 disturbing tunes.

11.26 – Christ, look at the time. I need to empty my bladder. Cut to commercial.

11.32 – Last glass of booze. A wave of tiredness and (hic) tipsiness is beginning to wash over me. Can't neglect to mention the above though…

Simon Says come chase after me,
Repeat my lights seq-uent-iii-ally!

Time to take our hats off to what must surely be the only ever use of the word "sequentially" in a toy jingle. Actually, "Repeat my lights sequentially" sounds suspiciously like the kind of mangled English instructions one routinely finds on Manky Toy packets. It may even be on the "PolyBlock One" Box.

I was always rubbish at Simon Says. Once it really got cooking I'd start sweating and panicking and fall at the first hurdle. It was like something they'd sit around playing in Star Trek: The Next Generation. Games of the future are always bleepy, upsetting and confusing.

11.43 – And so we move on to the final toy of the evening. A truly disgusting blob of goo submitted by my darling wife. Behold "Puppy Squeezer":

11.47 – Keen eyes may notice that, in Alan Partridge's immortal words, there is "superficial damage to the box". That is to say, it's completely covered in Sellotape. As a result Jess, being mindful of her rights as a consumer, had the brazen cheek to ask for a discount. The o'erworked till operator looked at her with a mixture of weariness and disgust. No discount was forthcoming.

It's difficult to describe how horrible "Puppy Squeezer" is to the touch. It pulses, it oozes, it reminds one not only of canine putrescence but one's own inevitable descent into rot and deliquescence. It's like Stretch Armstrong's zombie dog companion.

12.00 – 3 hours in! Jays fluid! "Copernicus" has just posted a grim warning of the dangers posed by the hideous likes of "Puppy Squeezer":

I was in the two euro shop recently browsing the PS Onealike when I suddenly started back from the display at a sudden clammy, moist yet unwet sensation rapidly overwhelming my epiduris.

One of those packets of goo had come apart – or been deliberately booby-trapped by a passing child – and the hideous, ectoplasmic ooze was slathering over my flesh.

He thunked he was having "a visitation from Madame Blavatsky", she who always gifted jars of putrid ectoplasm to Yeats, Crowley et al for Christmas. Perhaps there is some occult conspiracy behind the gurning puppy. I've seen Halloween 3. I know what can happen!

12.06 – Fergal notes, "I always wondered what class of goo was used inside these things". I draw his attention to the rear of the box.

Caution! Contents may stain some fabrics.

Or…"Contents may dissolve flesh/Melt your soul".

12.10 – One final word from our insistent sponsors before we wrap up, put on our night caps, and sail for the shores of nod.

12.12 – 2 questions.

1) When did Ms. Pac Man become Bette Midler?

2) Does she actually sing (at the end) "Hey, don't ya know? I'm only Pac Man with a bow!!"

If (2) is true then it's an admirable bit of honesty from Atari. She had a beauty spot too though…so it was a markedly district sequel.

12.21 РI've squeezed my last puppy and blocked my final poly. There's an empty bottle beside me and "Navvy" looks like he's fit for the bed (after another back-breaking shift). Chatter and raim̩is can continue in the comment room, but for now it's good night from me and it's good night from them.

And remember…nighttime is a bankable actor.

finis

The Manky Toy Show – A Postscript – 28/12/2007

Last night, as Jess and I were working our way through Harold Lloyd and Sopranos box-sets, our whole road was suddenly plunged into darkness. After lighting a few candles I remembered that I had a wind-up torch (somewhere) among my possessions. Finding it would, however, require another torch to light my way (I have a similar problem when I misplace my glasses). As we sat in the gloom wondering what to do Jess exclaimed "The Spider-Man Phone!"

Off I trudged upstairs, thinking that even the mankiest toy has its day to (literally) shine. Down I bring Spidey, take 2 AAs out of the DVD remote, crank him up and…his arm snapped straight off…his head gave out no light.

Nighttime, I'm afraid to say, was no bankable actor.

By my mid/late teens, however, a combination of "Fuck the man!" cynicism, and Pat Partridge's tragic defeat of Gaybo in a steel cage death match (thus winning the right to sit on his throne), meant that the Toy Show no longer defined the festive season in quite the same way. The priority now was bush drinking and getting rat-arsed.

The sad decline of this once proud institution was recently documented by Copernicus, as he bravely took one for the team and "live blogged" this year's offering. Given that his text descriptions were, almost certainly, far more entertaining than the real thing, the thought occurred to me that I could try and offer my own alternative to RTÉ's annual disappointment.

And so I give notice. Tomorrow (Sunday) night – from 9-11 p.m. (roughly) – I will present the first ever "Manky Toy" Toy Show. Reactions will be "live" and unscripted. Wine will flow. Toys will (probably) break. Festive mirth and good cheer will be unconfined.

I encourage any and all of the blog's readers to go forth and purchase their own Manky Toy. They can then send me images and comments of same to the email address in the sidebar. These offerings will be woven into the post as the night goes on, as will any amusing observations added to the comments section. Though the rules of "Manky Toy Monday" state that no more than 2 Euro can be spent on each item I think, given the season, that we can let this restriction slide just this once. Anything up to a (grossly ostentatious) 5 Euro is fair game.

It may be fun. It may be rubbish. But, sure, we'll give it a go.

See you then and there (i.e. here).

Sunday, 23rd December 2007, 9.00 -11.00 p.m. (ish).