Right. Well. Regular readers of this website will know that I tend to write about weird, half-forgotten things from my childhood. But this one genuinely is pushing it. I mean, does anybody else out there remember Fiendish Feet?
The only reason I remember them now was because last night, at my history tutor's party, they for some reason came up in conversation when I was talking to somebody in my history group. I seem to recall being the first person to mention them, because I was met with a brief stony silence in which I wondered whether I had - yet again - acquired an instant reputation as the class lunatic, but then the individual I was chatting to suddenly remembered them as well.
I can't remember quite why they came up - I mean, yoghurt pots with stupid faces painted on them aren't really likely to come up, unless you are discussing the relative merits of various types of yoghurt pots (which, I can assure you here, we certainly were not). But anyway, once we both remembered Fiendish Feet, there was a conversation lasting at least ten minutes based around them.
I did intend to put a picture of Fiendish Feet yoghurt pots up here on this site. Sadly, scouring the web found me no pictures and only one mention (search for Fiendish Feet under Google and you'll find the mention I mean) which was little help. So, this is yet another of those pages where I assure you I wanted pictures but can't get hold of any.
However, and this is the good bit, I can describe the Fiendish Feet to you (at least, the ones I can remember). First, a general introduction. Fiendish Feet, manufactured by St Ivel, were a line of yoghurts from about ten to twelve years ago which were all given names (which were generally inane) and had faces painted on them. As well as this - this being the REALLY good bit - the bottoms of the yoghurt pots were shaped like feet. Now I come to think of it, there wasn't anything particularly fiendish about said feet, but all the same, a yoghurt pot with feet is pretty creepy. What I want to know is who thought the whole idea up.
Anyway, the Fiendish Feet were sold in packs of four, and there were sixteen to collect (or seventeen, if you count Cheesy Wheezy, the cheese spread addition to the collection). I confess I never owned the fourth pack, but I have a fairly decent recollection of the Fiendish Feet who made up the other three.
Pack 1 consisted of Spooky Whooky, the banana flavoured yoghurt who looked vaguely like a ghost (though quite why a ghost should need feet, let alone fiendish ones, is beyond my comprehension; although, to be fair, I didn't give it much consideration at the time I actually ate them); Fangs a Lot, the strawberry flavoured vampire yoghurt with a really amusing name; Frank 'N' Stein, who, despite the name, wasn't actually two seperate Fiendish Feet, but was in fact one, who looked vaguely like Guess Who. The fourth member of this pack, I'm afraid, escapes recollection. I would guess it wasn't pink, because both Fangs a Lot and Frank 'N' Stein were pink, and to have three pink yoghurts in a pack just wouldn't do. If I had to guess, I'd say it was probably a lighter yellow than Spooky Whooky was, but I can't remember the flavour (which just proves I'm not sad, eh?).
Pack 2 included the incredibly amusingly named Dooyafinkysaurus, which sounds vaguely like a dinosaur (though, of course, it wasn't - you could tell by the feet) and had three eyes, which is presumably where the name originated; Pharoah Nuff, another terribly witty pun, this one based around an Egyptian pharoah, as I'm sure you worked out. The remaining two members of this pack elude my memory, nor can I remember quite what flavours the afore-mentioned two were (although I have a vague suspicion that Pharoah Nuff was chocolate). Never mind. Pack 3 awaits.
Pack 3 was where the formula began to get diluted a bit. Instead of these being yoghurts, they were something very much like jelly in a pot. But anyway, they had extremely cool names, this being emphasised by the fact that I believe I can remember them all. Firstly, there was the strawberry flavoured Mesmer Eyes (wuh huh huh!), who had twirly eyes and presumably could hypnotise you if you weren't extremely careful; Moaning Mummy, the orange flavoured jelly stuff who also followed an Egyptian theme; Flossie Flame, of banana flavour, who obviously had jets of fire emerging from her nostrils; and lastly - I don't think I've quite got this name right, but it's along these lines - Trembling Trevor, who was pink and presumably raspberry flavoured. I can't really remember what he looked like.
Although I never had Pack 4, I know that the name of one of the Fiendish Feet included was Snortilla the Grunt, and I know this because even at the tender age of about five years old this struck me as being monumentally rubbish. The other individuals in this pack, I'm not so sure about, though I seem to recall that one of them was called Bertie something, or something Bertie.
And there you would think the fun stops. I mean, just how much mileage can you get out of an article about yoghurt pots with interestingly shaped feet? Well, I've actually got more than I expected, but there's just one thing to add. St Ivel released a book to accompany the Fiendish Feet! Oh yes, you literature lovers, there's a gap in your collection! As I recall, this book concerned the Fiendish Feets' trip to the fair - though I suspect the book never satisfactorily explained how sixteen walking yoghurt pots got into a fairground - and wasn't very good. Though, obviously, being something you send off for free with however many yoghurt pot lids, you couldn't expect it to be terribly good.
Well, that about wraps it up for the Fiendish Feet - though, if anyone out has the names of some of those I missed (or, better yet, photos), please send me mail. The address is at the bottom of the Front Page. Now, I have been thinking all day about what Trembling Trevor's name was - I thought it was Stuttering Trevor or something - so I had better go and email the person I was talking to last night, and clear that up. Bye for now!