Bear with me...
The sun is setting in the sky, Teletubbies, say goodbye.

Thank Christ that was over, thought Tinky-Winky. There had been major tension between the stars of the show today. Dipsy had been wanting to take the Tubby Tustard scene in a new direction, perhaps including tubby bananas, and maybe even a little tubby nutmeg. After all, they had to eat this slop. Tinky Winky had liked the idea – after all, the Tubby Tustard had a knack for curdling under all that lighting, so anything to make it taste less like armpit was more than welcome. But when management refused, the shit hit the fan. Dipsy threatened to invoke the creative clause in his contract, then threatened to walk out, and THEN Laa-laa had a massive falling out with the producer and so on, so please. Po was ok. She usually spent between takes sat in the corner sipping absinthe. It made her calm and pleasant. Originally they had banned her drinking on set, but after a couple of cameramen were hospitalised, and they couldn’t find a replacement, it was agreed that she could consume one bottle of the stuff per filming. So yes, bad day all round.

“I swear, I am this close to walking out on the show.”

“Hey. C’mon, we all have bad weeks”, said Jenny Winky, his wife.

“It’s not just that. The writing has gone stale, and I was thinking of doing more work in theatre anyway. They’re doing Ibsen’s A Doll’s House at the royal next year. I’d love to be in that.”

“Well, it’s up to you. Anyway, come up to bed soon, I like it when you’re aggressive.” She kissed him on his aerial and went upstairs.

Fame shouldn’t have been like this. And Noo-noo! He hadn’t talked to Noo-noo since he married Jenny. Ok, it was only a month after she had been Jenny Noo, but love is love. It can wait for no man, Teletubby or personified vacuum cleaner. He poured himself a mug full of scotch, downed it in 3 swallows and went to bed.

The mood on set the next day wasn’t much better. Laa-laa was now using her make-up artist to act as a communicative go-between with her and the executive producer. Dipsy had been placated into doing the regular Tubby Tustard thing, but it was obvious he wasn’t selling the experience to the camera. Tinky Winky couldn’t decide if it was some passive form of protest, or whether Dipsy’s spirit had finally been broken. Po hadn’t been able to obtain her usual bottle of absinthe, and so was drinking a potent mix of Jack Daniels and Brake Fluid out of an old biscuit tin. She was her usual placid self, but kept sporadically screaming something about hanging giraffe-thieves. Luckily she remained an absolute professional while the cameras were rolling.

The show went ok. By no means was it their best effort, and Toyah Wilcox left the set at the end of the day muttering something about “Thodding pweemadonna amateuws”. But Tinky Winky had had enough. He kept quiet about his decision to leave, at least until he could secure some kind of theatre appearance. His agent had told him about a part being needed for Lysander in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and seeing how Kate Winslet had been cast to play Helena, that was something he was willing to walk over Ibsen for.
“Mr. Winky, tell me why you want to be in this play”.

“Well sir, the previous show I was with started to go stale in terms of foresight and creativity. I feel that your theatre company has always been able to keep this fine play fresh and exciting, and I feel I can aid that process.”

“Well, you have been part of a media aimed at the younger generation, and I do like to see Shakespeare being brought to the youngsters.”

The rest of the interview continued in a similar, obsequious vein, and it was agreed that Tinky-Winky would play the part of Lysander on the opening night. The tabloids had a field day with the story, claiming that he had sold out, and that the walk out had resulted after a fist fight between Tinky-Winky and Po. Truth be told, Po was the one person Tinky-Winky could get along with. She was living proof that the solution to life’s problems can actually be found at the bottom of a glass. Or biscuit tin.

Nonetheless, Tinky-Winky’s hesitance to inform the cast about his departure had left many people bitter. The head of the BBC was rather annoyed that Tinky-Winky was allowed such a flexible contract that stated he could leave the show on the condition he did not sign with another TV channel. So several people were fired, and the show was put on a hiatus until a replacement was found. A rather unsavoury element was added to the mix when a drunken Noo-noo tried to assault Tinky-Winky outside an exclusive restaurant, in full view of several photographers.

Fast forward to a week before opening night, and Tinky Winky was in a bad way. The stress from rehearsals and the hammering he’d taken in the tabloids, who were now claiming he had impregnated Jordan, had lead to a rapid drop in the quality of his health. His aerial had drooped, he couldn’t control the TV footage appearing on his stomach, and for some reason he kept displaying footage of how peanut butter was made. Whether that was symbolic or not was irrelevant; it meant he had to wear thick jumpers when he went out to stop people watching his belly, and it was the middle of July, and the subsequent bouts of profuse sweating made things worse. Jenny was starting to feel somewhat left out of the marriage, and her reconciliation with Noo-noo was going a little too well It seemed – she would be out all day every day, and come back about 11pm.

“I just think that for me to feel at peace and for our relationship to continue to grow and mature, I need to make peace with Noo-noo. He’s changed a lot, you know. He’s taken up pottery, and performs improvisational poetry in a small café in Covent Garden. He’s so caring and attentive.”

Tinky-Winky’s aerial was now drooped flat against his head.

“I do have to say Jenny, I’m glad that you and Noo-noo are working things out, but I barely see you these days. I miss you”.

“Oh, I’m ever so sorry, Mr. Theatre! I’m sorry that I have a life of my own! I think the only thing missing is the love in this marriage. Noo-noo told me that on one of the seminars he attended…”releasing the inner rainbow butterfly of youth”, I think it was called, that men have less connection to their inner chrysalis, which can lead to marriage problems, depression, impotence and baldness. I think we need to see a councillor.”

“Honey, if that’s what you’d like then that’s ok. But can this wait until after the play? I’m seriously ill, several people want to kill me, and Jordan is claiming I got her pregnant.”

“Well, I don’t know. Can love wait? Does our love mean so little to you that you put it on the back burner?” She slammed the door and walked out. It was to be the last he saw of her until the play. He knew where she was. She was vacuuming.

Next on the list of pitfalls was the vicodin. He needed something, anything to keep him going. Just make it to the opening night, he would say. Make it past the first night and fate will force all the pieces into place. Things would work out. Po, Dipsy and Laa-laa would befriend him once more, Jenny would come back, and he would make his peace with Noo-noo and the BBC. Time for another scotch.

Come the opening night, Tinky-Winky was calm. He had a look in his eyes that suggested that he could nip any problem in the bud before it even became a problem. In truth, he was high as a kite. The vicodin and scotch he’d been living on had caused him to lose weight. He had no idea how on earth he made it to the theatre. He put it down to some kind of inner auto-pilot.

“Mr. Winky! You all set? My goodness you look fabulous! Have you lost weight?” He still hadn’t gotten used to casually conversing with Kate Winslet.

She looked divine. She was already in stage attire – a full, plunging green dress that was just tight enough to show what was underneath. Like when you see a Christmas present shaped like an elongated triangle. You know it’s a toblerone. Mr. Winky smiled at the thought of Miss Winslet’s toblerone. He realised he’d been staring at her and smiling vacantly for 24 seconds now. Time to say something.

“Yes, I have been working out. I look forward to winslet with you, Miss Working.”

The mischievous Puck had applied the potion, and now came the dual courting scene. Tinky-Winky and Michael Barrymore (playing Demetrius), vying for the love of Kate Winslet. He stuck a piece of cloth over his faulty screen, made sure a hat covered his aerial, and made his way from the darkness of backstage to the hot, bright lights of fame. He couldn’t help but look to the crowd. They were there! Laa-laa and Dipsy laughing and joking together, and Po, vomiting into a large bag of Doritos she had managed to smuggle in. The producers were there, and sitting beside Keanu Reeves, who had been brought in to replace Tinky-Winky for the one off Christmas special that Tinky-Winky’s departure had very nearly railroaded. The lights just seemed to get hotter. And then he saw it. Jenny, sat next to Noo-noo, her hand on his extension cord. He felt rage, but turned to Kate. Yeah, they were on stage, but such a kind, loving look resided in her eyes. She had been so supportive of him in rehearsals. Maybe this was fate? Maybe he could start a new life with Kate, and Jenny and Noo-noo could go off together. Maybe this was the happy ever after! He walked towards Helena, and began to speak.

“Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never came in tears. Look when I vow, I weep; and vows so born…”

The world of Science or Health and Safety have never widely publicised the dangers of going on stage under very hot lights, with a famous actress wearing a revealing dress, all whilst tanked to the brim on painkillers and alcohol. The whole world seemed to go vertical and slow motion. Tinky-Winky stumbled forward, grabbed for anything to keep upright. Her dress. He, and the dress, went down. Kate Winslet, and her breasts, did not. They stayed attached to her chest. Pale, and reflecting the lights to the point where they seemed to be glowing. She went to run off stage, and subsequently tripped over an unconscious Tinky-Winky, who was laid flat on his back, belly exposed, showing a film of how Rosie, 6, has just learnt how to use the grown up toilet.

The tabloids ripped what little meat was left from his carcass. He had stayed in the empty house alone for 2 weeks. Kate was now out of hospital after suffering a concussion, and while she wasn’t angry at Tinky-Winky, he felt terrible. That, and her agent had told her that associating with him now would be career suicide. He was alone, his career was over, and his future was destined to a derogatory reference in some nostalgia show, where D list celebrities would talk about how great the Spice Girls and Tamagotchis were.

One night, when the sun was setting in the sky, Tinky-Winky decided it was time to say goodbye. He went to Tower Bridge, to see if he could fly.





Since I have a large, grown up family and most of my siblings have kids of their own, we tend to have a big family gathering on Boxing Day instead of Christmas day. This is always great fun for me - I'm the childless single one of us 4 kids, and I'm also the only teetotaller. So every Boxing Day, while my family has their traditional drunken, chavtastic get together, I'm usually ousted up to my room, where I partake in a tradition of writing a pointless short story every day Boxing Day evening, like the one you just read.

Length? Mine's just regular sized. Everyone else in the world is tiny.
(GONEism, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 21:03, 9 replies)

Long
but worth it =)
Very nice - sad ending though made me feel bad... I always liked Mr Winky
(macomateo is procrastinating on, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 21:16, closed)

bravo!

( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 21:29, closed)

Not in any way pointless
The world would be a better place had that actually happened.
( MatJ LOOK, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 22:09, closed)

I can't believe I read this
but it's fantastic!
"a potent mix of Jack Daniels and Brake Fluid out of an old biscuit tin"
bloody brilliant.
double clicks for you sir
(rosie-pie, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 22:44, closed)

click
click
(misskitty reeks of sex and turpentine; laudanum afternoons, Sat 22 Nov 2008, 2:55, closed)

Clickety click click...
A truely epic tale, you got anymore?

By the way, I copy and pasted to a word file so I can claim I wrote it. Just joking, but i did word it so I can read it without having to trail through b3ta looking for it.

Verrrry nice, you got any more?
(chrisdood Why yes, I am the shizzle, Sat 22 Nov 2008, 22:59, closed)

I have a few
Most remnants from my teaching days. Hopefully I'll be starting a fresh batch soon so if I crap out any more I'll stick them up round these parts somewhere.
(GONEism, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 10:15, closed)

Clicks!
This has to make the best page
(mon bison powered by magnets, Mon 24 Nov 2008, 12:01, closed)

Rises to feet....
...for a standing ovation!

Bravo! Wooo! Bravo!
(EffinDoubt is breaking glass on, Mon 24 Nov 2008, 16:19, closed)