- by Owen Morton
There is just one problem with the above title: it implies that Tiny Planets is, in fact, not fiction, when in actuality, it is. However, I thought the title as it stands above is cool enough to justify using it, so long as I explain that it is entirely erroneous, which I have now done. The fact remains, however, that if Tiny Planets were fact and not fiction, they would still be stranger than fiction. Basically, Tiny Planets is very strange indeed.
I blame the many weird and wonderful television programmes we had to put up with in the 1980s for how messed up we all are now. Let’s face it, the stuff we watched was all extremely strange. But if what we had did this to us, what on earth are the university students of fifteen years’ time going to be like, if Tiny Planets is a faithful representation of the average children’s modern day TV programme?
I know I don’t usually discuss modern-day stuff on this website, but Tiny Planets is too good to pass up this golden opportunity. I watched it this afternoon on the recommendation of a friend (who I will now regard as terminally insane), and was quite astounded at the sheer bizarreness of it. I urge you, if you are looking for the effects of mind-altering drugs without actually having to experience the dangers of taking them, Tiny Planets is probably as close as you’re going to get. I watched, open-mouthed.
As far as I can make out, the principle of Tiny Planets is that, every episode, two interesting creatures called Bing and Bong (both of which are entirely covered in white fur, and one of them acts like a dog, while the other vaguely like a human) get onto their sofa and pull a lever. The effect of this lever is to catapult the sofa through the roof of their house and send it hurtling through space to a tiny planet. One assumes it’s a different tiny planet each week. I don’t know why the planets are tiny, but it’s probably easier just to not ask. The sofa is quite cunningly attached to a piece of elastic, and when Bing and Bong reach the tiny planet of the week, another piece of elastic attaches the sofa to this planet. They then get off the sofa, wander round, the vaguely human one taking photographs, then a little device beeps and they return to the sofa, cut the elastic, and are catapulted back home.
You see, it’s quite a strange format. I don’t understand how anyone came up with it. Another factor is that Bing and Bong don’t actually say anything, though – in a clear effort to confuse us – they are credited with voice actors at the end of each episode. To make things worse, insidiously psychedelic music plays quietly throughout the episode, only loud enough to notice if you’re actually listening for it, but just loud enough to melt your brain. There’s got to be some sinister side to all this. Just what is the hidden message? I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that the government is psychically controlling our children through the medium of Tiny Planets.
In this particular episode, Bing and Bong are taken to a planet where they come across a collection of strange animals looking after eggs. The eggs hatch and more of the strange creatures come out. All very sensible, one might assume. The human-ish one takes photos, and then the dynamic duo come across an extremely sizeable egg. For some reason, it doesn’t quite penetrate their brains that this egg is in some way connected to the smaller yet otherwise identical eggs they saw earlier, and a great deal of effort is expended by the human-like one in its attempt to break the egg open. I was quite astonished by this. Firstly, it knocks on the shell, and on receiving no response, goes through a variety of mentally challenged activities, including smacking the egg with a large hammer, and even standing on top of it and attempting to use a pneumatic drill on it. (Quite where it found the hammer and drill is perhaps a question for another occasion.) It is at this point that the two of them suddenly realise that if there’s a really big egg, there’s probably a really big mother lurking about somewhere. No sooner have they realised this than the mother pops up, Bing and Bong hide behind a rock, and the egg hatches. Sure enough, it’s a baby weird creature, but it’s still really big. What a surprise.
At this point, Bing and Bong are summoned back to their sofa, and return to their home. They sit on their sofa and go to sleep, presumably all ready to go to another tiny planet tomorrow.
This article hasn’t really done Tiny Planets justice. I don’t think it’s possible to do it justice. All I can say is that you really must watch it. It’s unbelievably psychedelic. It’s surreal. It’s bizarre. You’ll love it. But as a note of caution: just think what it’s doing to your mind ...