I have had a genius idea.
My Princess LOVES Peppa Pork. She loves that fat little pink Piggy to the point that it is becoming quite the obsession. Peppa, or “Peepa” as she calls her, has been on the Tellybox here for 5 and a half and 3/4 years. Mini-Me could take Peppa or leave her. (Come to think of it, she’s still not bothered about bacon.)
And while I don’t mind her having little things that she seems fond of or excited by, Peppa of the Pork is not one that I am overly keen to encourage.
She’s just a cartoon character after all isn’t she? Well yes. And as a teddy, or on clothing, or in toys I don’t mind her. As little figurines to play with, or in books to point at, she’s fine. And while to adults, it has been suggested that Peppa looks remarkably like a doodle of a phallic nature, to children, her pinkness is apparently aesthetically pleasing and wonderful.
No. It’s not her love for Peppa that bothers me. I’m glad she’s finally showing an interest in something other than food and licking the fridge… It’s the script of the TV show that I have issues with.
Peppa is a brat. Pure and simple. She is cheeky, spoilt and whiney. Boundaries were never created in that house. She answers back, regularly tells Daddy Pig he is fat and is so cheeky to her friends that there is a full episode dedicated to them betting her she can’t stay quiet so they can get some peace.
I’m surprised the other talking animals bother with her at all. She whines and complains and is quite the Negative Nelly. And at no point does Mammy or Daddy rebuke her or tell her what she’s saying is naughty.
She’s a bossy little rasher. Expectant and entitled and don’t even start me on the way she speaks to Mammy.
I’ll wager that Mammy Pig has a secret stash of pink gin hidden behind that computer of hers.
Yes, I know. She’s just a cartoon character, but when she seems to be on repeat in your ear for nearly 6 years, I think it’s quite acceptable to dislike her. And when your children begin mimicking her, then, she becomes quite the pain in the pork.
But last week, I had a brainwave.
After 2 days of my Princess being confined to the sofa feeling under the weather, and 2 days of my brain being FRIED by Peppa referring to Daddy Pig’s big belly and telling poor Gawj “You’re too little”, I could take no more.
I did the “flick” part of the Netflix and came across the best alternative to Peppa Pig, EVER!
Ben and Holly’s Little Kingdom.
The animation is identical to Peppa Pig. The narrator/voice structure is similar enough to Peppa to lure an unsuspecting 2 year old in, and the sound track is not quite as irritating…yet. Enough of a difference for her to raise a suspicious eyebrow, but not dramatic enough for her to refuse to watch it.
But the biggest bonus is that the characters are generally NICE to each other. Yes there are mishaps and magic tricks going wrong etc, and Wise Old Elf and Nanny Plum have some serious issues to get over, but in general, it is entertaining. In fact, I am not afraid to say that Nanny Plum is a legend. She speaks the truth Mammies. She is fablis.
And there is no whiny, annoying, bold little bad example in it.
So yes, I have finally lost my marbles. I have just written a full post on how Ben and Holly is better than Peppa Pig.
But hey! That’s where we are in our house these days, and they do say you should write what you know, don’t they? I could have written about In the Night Garden, but I’m not quite that barmy yet and I don’t think there’d be enough wine to inspire that…
Which TV shows are/were on repeat in your house?
First published on Donegal Woman in my Thoroughly Modern Mammy column
Dids’t thou know..
Mini cucumbers look very twee and sophistimacated and posh when Mammy is at the till In Aldi-everything.
The checkout lady, Jacinta, attempts to make Mammy cry by throwing the food at her faster than any toddler throwing a tantrum. “Calm yourself Jacinta!”… Mammy does not cry however. (Mammy has every Aldi-everything employees arch nemesis… Trolley Bags. Take THAT Jacinta! 🤣🤣) Jacinta throws the beans a little bit harder than necessary…probably in a strop because she hasn’t broken THIS mini-cucumber buying, obviously very healthy and wholesomey Mammy.
No! Instead of crying, Mammy snaughles at her healthy and adventurous self for finding such cute little one-a-day.
Not only are they green and therefore healthy and wholesome and pretentiously fablis… they’re WHIIIIIIIILE handy for making Mammy’s gin and tonic. 🤣😂🤣😂
How clever is Mammy?
After a disaster of a morning/afternoon/early evening…OK. I’ll start again.
After a pretty epic Feck-it-up Friday, things began to settle after I visited Him and his Jim. For one sweaty hour, I was Laura Croft, (without the boobs obviously) and I ROCKED.
(I no longer fall over when trying to lunge. THAT, my friends, is progress!
Yay me and screw you tummy-muscles-like-a-bingo-wing. I’m gonna find youuuuuu! 😂)
Mini-Me ate her dinner in 9 minutes tonight.
It was “home made bread covered with ripe unblemished organic tomatoes and cheese from a Virgin cow, accompanied by new season potatoes gently coated in free range dust and gluten free oil from the rain forest”.
I fed her Pizza and waffles.
Because I’m on Feck-it-up Friday so I may as well continue through with the theme.
After an unusually calm bedtime, with my two little munchkins snoring, I needed food.
I RESISTED the temptation to ring the Him and tell him to come home ONLY if he was carrying a biryani or he’d be bludgeoned to death with a Peppa pig car.
I also decided I’d be good and NOT have a Friday night tipple, because I am energised and clean and organic and fabulous.
Then, I caught the last 10 minutes of Corrie and watched THE most moving and amazingly awful death of Kylie Platt.
(Shut up. Yes. I may teach film studies for a living, but at the minute, Tree Fu Tom is the intellectual highpoint of my day.)
So Corrie was impressive and horrible and terrible and by the time the Him came in, I was BAWLING.
His panic was quickly replaced by hysterical laughter when I eventually slabbered “Kylie …just …a….died and it’s. ..so ooh. ..sad!” 😭😭😭
His reply included a LOT of expletives and the line “The last time I came home to this you were pregnant.”
And now he’s panicking that I’m up the dudu again and I’m probably going to have to do a test to bring his stress levels down from 90. 😂😂😂
(I’m not! Calm the cacks.)
So with the trauma of the most realistic portrayal of last breath I’ve seen since Marley & Me, the horrific sadness of her last message to her kids, not to mention David Platt’s heart wrenching “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”, I did what everyone else who was there did.
I poured a very large Gin with a tiny dash of tonic.
And my nerves are just about settling so I MAY need another one.
You know… for Kylie?
May she Rest in Soapland Heaven. 😇😇
Happy Fecked-it-up Friday Ladybelles.
Feel free to tell me how you Fecked-it-up today. Or rub it in how your day was fablus.
S-Mum x 😙😙