ACTION MAN CAN MAKE THE STUFFING!

Bill's memories of his Sister's tennis ball headed Action Man [on the radio SWORDcast] stirred misty recollections of Prestonian antics I thought long lost in my flocked brain pan.

At Christmas in the late Sixties I would seat all my Action Men on small chairs round a little dining table! I kid you not! An Action Man Christmas Dinner! I've no idea where I got the table and chairs from - they could have been Sindy handmedowns from my older Sister Rene. Knowing me I will have made them out of cardboard, which was a passion I had as a kid - making stuff from cardboard!

 

 

Anyway, my Action Man Xmas lunch took place on the carpet of my bedroom. It was an all male doll affair - no cissy Barbies or Sindy's allowed on my watch, much to the 'men's' utter disgust! I think everyone had their gunmetal grey billy cans and mugs on the table - brimming with Tizer - and possibly camping plates and mess cutlery, all gently placed in their battle-worn but ever-gripping hands.

 

 

As for uniform, we accepted all nations at the table: Australian Jungle Fighter ["you pommy bast*rd"], German Stormtrooper ["Ordnung Englander, Bitte!"], Gemini Astronaut ["Preston we've got a problem!"], Grenadier Guard ["Leave my beaver alone!"] and Frogman and his Shark ["got any toothpicks men?"]. Tommy Gunn and the other clones were usually late on account of stiff joints and premature greying.

 

 

By mutual consent small side-arms were allowed on the table - pistols, flares and lugars -  together with maps, medals and stick grenades, which were often mistaken for crackers! Bigger weaponry was kept away from the turkey in handy racks at the side: Flamethrowers, Sten Guns, Harpoons and  Schmeissers [that's schmeissers!]. Helmets were removed and pesky dog hairs and lint combed out of  "real" hair, a cut popular at the time with the diminutive soldiers.


With my obsession for making things I probably made the men presents but I'm glad to admit I can't remember! All I know is that their eagle eyes will have darted round the table scrutinising who got what to the sound of whispered "Spiffings" and "Scheisses" [that's scheisses!]


With a platoon of Arctic Commando's patrolling the snowy wastes of my window sill we were safe to enjoy our plastic truce. What twelve inch fun we had round that festive table! Only a kid could get away with it!


And once the feasting was over it was back to some serious war games, which was always hard on a full stomach of plasticine sprouts!


It all reminds me somehow of the current TV and cinema ad starring Kevin Bacon and all his selves in the Bacon Movie Club. If you've not seen it it's a classic!

I'm surprised they let this guy in!