Further adventures in children's television

Some other visual feasts have crept into our daughter's daily routine of late. Some are good. Some are terrifying. There's something for everyone.

Zingzillas falls into the latter category. As usual I haven't quite given it my full attention, but I maintain that this is a deliberate shortcoming because wildly inaccurate interpretations are funnier. The basic premise of Zingzillas seems to be that some hitherto undiscovered evolutionary branch of anthropomorphised primates has been stranded for an undisclosed length of time on a tropical island. This group has risen above its plight by developing advanced levels of loud clothing, musical ability and the enthusiasm and electricity required to maintain this lifestyle.

This should be an ebullient feast of optimism, which I'm sure is the intention. But it all leaves me with a disturbing sense of unease. I've been trying to put my finger on the cause of this reaction. Maybe it's the massive, lifeless eyes protruding from the protagonists' heads. Maybe it's the relentless gusto with which every task or hurdle presented to them by their simple life is met with song.

But no. I think what really worries me is the old human. Apparently an awkward music nerd was marooned on this island in the seventies. He has since been held prisoner by the big, bog-eyed monkeys and made to participate in their bizarre musical culture. He does appear to have made the best of it: keeping his head down while diligently lending his considerable keyboard skills to proceedings as if his life depends on it, which it may well do. The sinister atmosphere evoked by this poor man's situation is epitomised by the fact that they haven't even offered him a change of clothes. They prance about in their natty threads while leaving this unfortunate captive to suffer in the anachronistic safari suit he washed up in. Now what sort of example is this setting for children?*

Waybaloo (apologies for potentially incorrect spelling) is the antidote to this horror. I have paid even less attention to this, having seen only one five minute burst yesterday. But burst is an inappropriate term, for five minutes was enough to lull me into a peaceful reverie as some very convincingly animated floating aliens soothed my troubled mind through the medium of virtual yoga. This all takes place in a dreamlike paradise which for some reason brought to mind happy memories of a computer game I am yet to identify. But it was obviously one that pleased me. And my daughter seemed to agree. I think there should definitely be more of this TV-as-opiate for children and adults alike.

I will soon write something which actually refers directly to my daughter. But I don't have time right now. There's telly to watch.

*I have now been informed by my wife that this man in fact appeared in only one episode, and is one of numerous people who are fortunate enough to be guests of the Zingzillas'. I apologise profusely for my erroneous slander, but also refer my wife to the above caveat about wild inaccuracies being good.