SMOKE: Email To Noddy

Originally published: 5 April 2004

I was never the world's biggest fan of Noddy and his pals Big Ears, Mr Plod and the Golliwog - they were way too law-abiding for me.

Their whole world made no sense to me, as in it everyone was locked in a permanent battle to see who could be the nicest to the next bloke - that was something very foreign to my experience of the world.

But Noddy was - and probably still is, although to a lesser degree - a global phenomenon, from the millions of books sold to the accompanying merchandising empires to the annoying children's plays which always seem to be on in the foyers of theatre complexes on Saturday afternoons.

Now that's depressing theatre, if ever there was any.

Noddy has faded somewhat these days and is nowhere near the top of my consciousness as he used to be. So I dropped him an email to find out how the little rascal is doing.

Hey there, my small Toyland friend!

Staying out of the gutters, are you? Off the crack, meths and glue? No longer pimping? Given up the BDSM rounds? Tired of scatology, watersports, murder and rapine? More or less on the straight and narrow?

Haven't heard from you for awhile - not since the time you were supposedly banned in South Africa during the Apartheid era, for one of two reasons: either it was because of the perceived homosexual theme which surrounded your cosy, bed-sharing relationship with Big Ears, or because the South African state police were worried that Golly the Golliwog was a planted revolutionary and somehow tied in with the ANC to spread propaganda and lies.

Wouldn't do to have a white boy and a black boy portrayed as good mates, now would it? Never know what ideas the kiddies might get.

I have no idea whether the books about you were actually banned in this country, but if they weren't then it was certainly a massive urban legend. Whatever the case - after hearing that story I never really encountered you again.

So - whatcha been up to? You never really seemed to get any older in the books, but that could have just been my perception. Since you must have grown up by now I wonder - do you still wear those tight little blue shorts you used to wear in the seventies?

I used to have a pair like that, and one day the shopkeeper in Uitenhage mistook me for a girl.

You must have an even bigger problem, considering your ridiculous red shoes with the large bows.

Bet you're more into Doc Martins and Tommy Hilfiger these days, eh? Traded in your little blue shorts for a pair of cammos and gone is the garish red shirt and spotted necktie, to be replaced with a tank top tight against your ripped flesh and hardened nipples, with a dog tag bearing the blood of your best friend hanging around your neck on one of your enemies' raw tendons.

The ridiculous blue, pointy hat has surely been ousted by a NYC beanie and nestled in your pockets are a clip of greenbacks and a set of knuckledusters that double as a switchblade. The fight is fought, the girl is gone, the tears are wept and the heart is hard.

Right? I mean - you have moved on, haven't you Noddy? A guy like you needs to make certain journeys, you know what I mean? Up the creek and over the mountain, trading in your fantasies for a new set of realities. A skunk-fuelled road trip into the very depths of depravity and out the other side, minus a sleeve upon which to wear your heart and a doorknob to hang your dreams on.

Grow up, dude. The 80s have come and gone and the 90s were never here. We survived the millennium, the nukes grow dust, Kruschev is dead and the Wall has come down. The Black Man rules Africa, the White Man rules Europe, the Yellow Man rules Asia and the All-American Man runs America.

Nobody runs Australia - it just exists, and does well.

A Chinese astronaut has confirmed that the Great Wall cannot be seen from space, Barbie has ditched Ken, Hanson has finally disappeared and there's still no cure for cancer.

And you, Noddy? Where are you? Presumably still in Toyland, living in your little fantasy world in which you get to play all day and not worry about things like rates, taxes, home loans, car repayments, insurance, burglary, buggery and Sudden Death Syndrome.

In my opinion that's the reason you're losing popularity - kids these days are brought up on a diet of divorce, Marilyn Manson and Tabasco, and laugh in the face of your saccharine sweetness. A few Bishopscourt Fauntleroys will no doubt identify with your problem-free existence, but to the rest of us - you're a retard.

So I really hope you have moved on and lived it large a little. You're an innocent guy, but these days innocence is naivety and naivety is something you want to avoid when the bogeyman comes a-callin'.

Tell Big Ears to get off his fat ass and find you a way out of the book, pull on over to my place and I'll take you down to Rascals where we can share a pint or 14 as the wenches spill beer and the one man band delivers popular 80s covers that just won't die.

We'll put hair upon your chest and lambchops on your jaw, and we'll trade in that yellow and red car for the love of a fine woman.

Give the Millennium Kids a new hero - a superhero, if you will - to lead them in rebellion against overly-protective mothers and children's censor boards into a brave new world of lies, mistrust and pornography.

I'm counting on you, Noddy.

Luke Tagg


As per - I sent my mail to Noddy, and received an illuminating reply:

Hey Luke - come and join me and my Toyland friends on our brand new, interactive website! Fun bios, a pic gallery, the Noddy Shop and more! Subscribe to our Noddy Newsletter and get free weekly updates on all your favourite Toyland friends! Join Now!



I went to Noddy's site but was redirected to a Russian warez site and had the homepage changed in my browser and a thousand popups that wouldn't stop, forcing me to shut my computer off at the wall.

I'm going to murder the little fucker.

All Smoked Out,
Luke Tagg
Spending time online does bad things to a person, but I'm OK.

Look at me now - all the way from Uitenhage to the bright lights of the big internet.

Find out more using the handy links provided.

Copyright © Luke Tagg. All rights reserved. A few lefts as well.

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