Wednesday, 28 October 2015

PINKY AND PERKY ANNUAL 1963


Seriously, whose childhood daze weren’t enhanced by a weekly visit from this lovable pair of anthropomorphic puppet pigs? Not in real life, of course – that would be weird – I’m talking about television.

When I was about 5 years old I was presented with my first record player, a Fisher-Price affair in bright sturdy plastic, modelled on an old-fashioned gramophone and not entirely unlike the one pictured below.


 Various family members rallied around and gifted me a number of 45s to play on it – The Beatles were well represented, I remember, starting a lifelong love of the Fab Four, as well as various recordings by the likes of Cliff Richard, Andy Williams, ragtime piano greats and a single or two by Pinky and Perky. I particularly remember their poignant re-telling of the tale of ‘The Ugly Duckling’ in the medium of song, which I must have played all day every day if the memory of my mum’s dependence on Valium is anything to go by. It was made all the more tantalising by the ability to play it 33rpm and hear a proper human voice singing it, or speeding it up to 78rpm, in which case it sounded like it was being sung by mice on helium. The record, of course, was created by re-playing the original voice recordings at twice the original recorded speed while the backing track was played at half normal speed, a process that has never ceased to fascinate me and probably led, in its own way, to Mind De-Coder.

Pinky and Perky were created for television by Czechoslovakian immigrants Jan and Vlasta Dalibor who chose the character of pigs for their creation because the pig is apparently seen as a symbol of good luck in their native country (although you might want to ask any friends you may have from what is now the Czech Republic, of course, about that, but it may be true I suppose). The puppets looked very much alike but keen-eyed fans of the show would have noticed that Pinky wore red clothes while Perky wore blue, a rather pointless distinction in the days of black and white telly, so Perky often wore a hat too (now you know).

They were produced for television in 1957 by Roger Hill, who went on to produce Jackanory and Sooty. I seem to remember they had their own fictional television station, but given the limitations of their movements, all the could really do was bob up and down a bit and sing. So popular was the show it wasn’t too long before they were also the proud recipients of their own Christmas annuals. This particular annual was published by that great publisher of Children’s annuals, Purnell, in 1963. And look! I seem to have inherited Tony Blair’s copy! He would have been 10 at the time. Rather like the Labour party, it doesn’t look like he took very good care of it (not like that nice Mr. Corbyn is going to). I wonder if he wants it back?  

Wednesday, 21 October 2015

MARY, MUNGO AND MIDGE ANNUAL (1970)


Mary Mungo and Midge Christmas Annual 1970

Nothing speaks of childhood to me like MARY, MUNGO AND MIDGE. It reminds me of long summer days and dust floating through the air, captured by the sun shining through large school windows onto tiled corridor floors, the smell of carbolic soap and those nice biscuits like Jammy Dodgers or Party Rings that came in colourful tins.

The show, of course, followed the adventures of a girl called Mary, her slightly pompous dog Mungo, and her pet mouse Midge, who played a flute, but who could only really manage Three Blind Mice (which, let's face it, isn't bad for a cartoon mouse). The three of them lived in a modern new tower block in a busy town.  

The show was one of the first children's shows in the UK to reflect busy urban living, as opposed to being set in a wood, forest or other rural setting, and in doing so captured a particular moment in the late sixties, when high-rise suburban living was considered to be the exciting answer to modern housing concerns. You can imagine the sort of plot-lines they'd come up with nowadays. Quite clearly Mary was a latch-key kid whose parents went to work each day, but that never bothered me at the time. Mary was a very capable and sensible young girl.

Each episode would start the same way:

"A town is full of buildings, some tall, some short, some wide and some narrow.
The buildings are flats, and houses and factories and shops. They are built in streets.
The streets have cars, buses and lorries driving along them. Do you live in a town?”

I didn’t, but Mary’s town looked really nice with some fantastic street pans and town views to savour. In each episode, the three of them would descend in the lift from their flat in the tower block on some errand or other, and invariably cheeky little Midge would run off and be a nuisance, and then poor old Mungo would have to rescue him. I think my favourite episode was set in a toy shop where you can just imagine the sort of opportunities there were for Midge to get into all sorts of trouble. After their adventures they would return home, Midge would press the button for the lift back to the correct floor, by standing on Mungo's nose.

How reassuring it all seemed.

The series was created in 1969 by John Ryan, who also created Captain Pugwash. The episodes were narrated by BBC newsreader Richard Baker, with John Ryan's daughter Isabel playing Mary. The theme tune and other music for the series was provided by Johnny Pearson.


Although inescapably part of my childhood there were only 13 episodes made so I must have caught up with their further adventures in the MARY, MUNGO AND MIDGE Christmas annual, well worth 8/6 of anyone’s money

Monday, 19 October 2015

SUPERCAR ANNUAL 1963


SUPERCAR ANNUAL 1963

This marvellous looking annual was published in 1963 and so was a little before my time. SUPERCAR was a children's TV show produced by Gerry Anderson for ATV and ITC Entertainment. Thirty-nine episodes were produced between 1961 and 1962 and it was Anderson's first half-hour series. The plot of the show largely consisted of Supercar, a space age car able to take off vertically and hover on a cushion of air, being piloted around by the rugged and hirsutely eyebrowed Mike Mercury, and otherwise getting involved in all sorts of secret adventures and battling the show’s arch nemesis, the nefarious Masterspy. Although Supercar adventures also appeared in TV COMIC ANNUALS at the time, it was soon given its own Christmas annual as the show grew in popularity. Like all of the 1960s Gerry Anderson Christmas annuals, they have a nostalgic value that in many ways far outweighs their cost, but then in those days you got a lot more for your pounds, shillings and pence, and are well worth the money.