“BOING!” said Zebedee, “Time for bed!”
Ah, the childish joys of the Magic Roundabout. by that I mean this Magic Roundabout:
Not this abomination of town planning that the poor people of Swindon have to deal with (as if living in Swindon wasn’t bad enough):
So who amongst my extensive readership has a single clue what I’m rabbiting on about when I talk about Dylan, the pot-smoking hippy rabbit based on Bob Dylan; Ermintrude, the matronly cow; Brian, the simple-minded snail; Douglas, the shaggy dog with a taste for sugar; and Florence, the totty for the younger generation.
I’m sure there was far more of an adult under-current to the series that I was not aware of back in my innocence (or possibly not, but we like to infer a little innuendo as smutty -mined adults).
So in an attempt to ruin your memories of Douglas and co, I will leave you with this revved up version of Jasper Carrot’s Magic Roundabout parody:
“Hello children. It’s a quarter to six. Time for Magic Roundabout…”
“I wonder where Florence is?” said Dougal.
“I’m over here,” said Florence.
“Hello, Florence,” said Dougal.
“Hello, Dougal,” said Florence.
“Hello, Florence and Dougal,” said Zebedee.
“Hello, Zebedee,” said Dougal and Florence.
“Hello, Zebedee, Florence and Dougal,” said Dylan.
“Hello, Dylan,” said Zebedee, Florence and Dougal.
“Dylan,” said Dougal.
“Yes,” said Dylan.
“I wonder if Florence is a virgin?”
“Drops ’em for sure,” said Dylan.
“That’s right enough,” said Zebedee.
“How do you know?” said Dylan. “You’re wound so tight you’ve clearly never had a woman.”
Zebedee ignored Dylan’s slur. “Half of Toytown has enjoyed her horizontal pleasures. Let’s face it, Noddy’s the biggest ram round here and he said he scored when they were in Hector’s house,” said Zebedee. “And Big Ears got his name when she pulled his face in so hard they stretched!”
“I can hear you,” said Florence. “It s not true. Noddy and I are just good friends. And Big Ears is just a gossip.”
“Rubbish”, said Dougal. “It’s all over the canteen. Everyone knows about you, you brazen hussy.”
“You lousy old flea-bag,” said Florence. “Call yourself a dog? I’ve seen better hair on a lavatory brush!”
“Now look here,” said Zebedee. “Things are getting out of hand. Let’s get back to the story-line!”
“It’s a crummy story anyway,” said Dylan stubbornly.
“No, it’s not,” said Zebedee commandingly.
“Who cares?” said Dylan dejectedly.
“Well, I like it,” said Florence, hopefully.
“Well that’s obvious!” said everybody, cockily.
“Now look,” said Zebedee, “let’s try and get it together.”
“Well, I’m not working for that fat-bat any more,” said Dougal. “I’m off to join the Flowerpot men.”
“Good riddance,” said Florence.
“Knickers!” said Dougal. “If you’ve still got any!”
“Ihat’s no way to talk to a lady,” said Dylan (knowing he’s on to a good thing).
“Some lady!” said Dougal.
“Oh, piss off,” said Dylan.
And so Dougal did, all over Florence.
“Thank you for sticking up for me,” said Florence.
“I’ll stick up for you anytime”, said Dylan, with a smile.
“Cheeky!” said Florence. She fluttered her eyelashes. “You know I’ve had a soft spot for you for a long time.”
“I’ve got just the thing for that soft spot,” said Dylan.
“Where do we go from here?”, said Florence.
And with that, we say “Time for bed” to A to Z for another year.