THE 'ORRIBLE 'OUSE OF TERRIBLE OLD TAT #29 - A Tune In For All Time Lords

Welcome once again dear fiends to the 'Orrible 'Ouse of Terrible Old Tat! That's it, step inside... But don't touch that! Anywho dear friends, last time we were talking of when the catalogue was king, that now almost forgotten age of non-digital home shopping, a time when with nothing more advanced than a big glossy book, a pen and a stamp or two, you could order all manner of goods to be delivered to your door. However in this pre-internet age, there were actually some items that you could only get through mail order, something their manufacturers proudly trumpeted in the marketing - "Not available in any shop!". And were these rare and difficult to obtain items any cop? Well, therein lies a tale or two... Some were very good, some very bad, and indeed, a few were ugly. However sometimes these mail-order-only goodies went beyond the parameters set by Sergio Leone, and some were just downright weird!

These days, if a show or a movie is successful, it's instantly merchandised to the proverbial hilt, with the brand being instantly licenced for everything from comics to clothes to cruet sets. And in some cases even actual hilts, well, replica swords at any rate. However in ages past, the availability of tie-in items were often sporadic, and often what was up for sale was rather eccentric. Now then, at the close of the 1970s, the most popular SF show, was one of the most popular TV shows  in Britain full stop. With Tom Baker helming the TARDIS, Doctor Who was enjoying a huge wave of popularity. And hence, somewhat surprisingly, it was only in the time of the Fourth Doctor, some ten years into the life of the hit series, that we got much in the way of proper merch. As previously discussed, it was in this jelly baby era that the first proper Doctor Who action figures appeared. Also this was the period when the Target novelisations began to fly off the shelves, and more exciting still, a weekly comic - Doctor Who Weekly - first appeared.  

Back in those pre-web days, specialised publications served a unique role. For aside from serving up content dedicated to their chosen area of interest, such magazines provided a valuable micro market for advertisers and mail order shops. Now then, around the same time, an electronics firm called Shortman Manufacturing wangled a license to produce tat for the Doctor Who brand. But the question was what? Despite its popularity, Doctor Who was always somewhat tricky to merchandise for - there weren't a host of exciting space-age vehicles like the Gerry Anderson shows, the Doctor didn't carry anything in the way of weapons that could be turned into toy guns, and he didn't wear a special outfit or costume either. In those days, even the now very toyetic sonic screwdriver wasn't used that much in the old series. Hence Shortman came up with a novel idea - how about an item that had never and would never feature in the series, but you could stick a Who logo on! Perfect!

And so the TARDIS Tuner was born! Pimped frequently in the pages of Dr Who Weekly and comics such as 2000 AD from 1978 onwards, with a full page comic strip ad, thousands of kids wondered what the hell a TARDIS TUNER was! The adverts proclaimed it was a "A TUNE IN FOR ALL TIME LORDS", but a little careful reading of the blurb revealed it was in effect a jazzed up medium wave transistor radio. Priced initially at £14.25, but later climbing up to £19.91, this seemed a bit steep for a novelty tranny even it if was a rather chunky one -  approximately 20 cm x 15 cm x 8 cm (that's approx 8" x 6" x 3" in old money). 

However powered up by 4 AA batteries (or HP7s as they were back in the day), admittedly it did do other things too! The full, if somewhat cryptic, list of features was as follows -  

• Mind blowing volume control
• Built in radio receiver, 
• picks up radio 1, 2 & 3
• ‘Laser light control switch’
• Constant flashing laser lights
• Radio tuner for crystal clear reception
• Time warp bleeper control switch
• Tough moulded matt-black casing stands up to the heaviest landings
• Sliding door for battery supplies

Wait a minute! This had lasers?!? Take my money now!

Of course it didn't really have lasers, just some bog standard flashing lights. Now I'm not sure whether Shortman were hoping that no one would be daft enough to think the TARDIS Tuner really had lasers, or were actually daft enough to believe the blurb but conveniently also be too stupid to start legal proceedings. Either way though, to a child of the 1970s, flashing lights were very cool in themselves. Yes, I know, simpler times!  *Insert favourite old git rant of your choice here*

So what did this space-age gadget actually do? Well after literally years of idly wondering what a "Time warp bleeper control switch" did, at last the truth can be revealed! Switch 1 toggled the TARDIS Tuner  between  "Radio" or "Lights" mode. In "Radio", obviously you could listen to the radio. No Radio 4 though as this didn't pick up FM, but I'm sure that wasn't a huge deal for the nation's kids. However its in "Lights" mode where things get interesting. In this second mode, you could no longer use the radio, but instead the TARDIS Tuner can be made to emit a range of electronic noises. Well, a range of two electronic noise -  the second switch - "Switch 2" natch - allows you to chose between "Morse Warp" or "Laser Bleep". However by using the volume control you could modulate the pitch of both of these to create eerie space age oscillating tones... or just a racket to annoy everyone else in the house with at any rate! 

The TARDIS Tuner in action!

However one does wonder whether the advertisers had much faith in it as the faux strip hawking it was entitled "Doctor Who and the Turgids". Methinks someone was having a laugh there. But despite soundly horribly low tech to modern ears, and to be honest even potentially disappointing back then, quite clearly the TARDIS Tuner sold well enough, for it was advertised in the pages of Doctor Who Weekly and other comics for several years. And now this totally non-canonical item has become popular with Who cosplayers, with a working model going for a 100 quid recently! 

THE 'ORRIBLE 'OUSE OF TERRIBLE OLD TAT #13 - Tanked Command

Welcome once again dear fiends to the 'Orrible 'Ouse of Terrible Old Tat! This week, we've been digging in the games cupboard once more and I've dragged out another item from yesteryear to tease and tantalise your memory. Or rather, perhaps in this case, to re-open old wounds and childhood traumas. Yes, I know, I'm all heart! 

Well then chums, you know what they say... Some games are born great. Some games achieve greatness. And some games have greatness thrust upon them. And today's offering is absolutely none of those! It resides far away from any of those categories, for it is a game that will never in any circumstances come anywhere near great in any way, shape or form. It  truly puts the 'bored' in board games, and also was the cause of many a pernicious case of long-lasting bitter disappointment. In fact, for a certain generation of kids, it is a strong contender for one of the most disappointing toys ever foisted upon an unsuspecting public. 

And what is this benighted game? Well it is Tank Command from Ideal. Now when this hit the toy stores back in 1975, this looked massively exciting. And what's more there was a whole generation of little boys eager to lap up anything with a World War Two flavour. Growing up in the early 70s, WWII was literally everywhere - on the telly there was Colditz, Dad's Army, Secret Army, and probably some other shows with 'army' in the title too that I can't remember right now. Toy shops were stuffed with Action Man in a variety of WWII uniforms and vehicles, the must have board game was Escape from Colditz, and all that before we get to the battalions of Airfix models and legions of toy soldiers. And British comics for boys were full of vintage warfare too - in 1974 DC Thompson had launched the highly exciting Warlord comic, while in early 1975 IPC had responded with the ground-breaking and gritty Battle Picture Weekly. Indeed there was so much World War II everywhere you might have thought that the war was still going on, or at least had only just recently ended.

So then in this war-torn climate, a game promising explosive battles between armoured divisions was obviously a sure-fire winner! And no doubt that is exactly what veteran British toy fim Ideal thought, and they whipped up a suitably exciting advert for the telly to promote this latest slice of WWII action! And what an advert it was! Check it out! 

It is a very clever advert and one that has haunted the minds of the target audience for many years, although admittedly not perhaps for the best of reasons. But a brilliant example of the advertiser's dark arts it certainly is. To start with, note that it features two Dads playing the game, instantly giving it a sparkly coat of "this ain't just kids' stuff, sonny" - always an attractive sheen that plays well with the kids. No annoying stage school brats here! Secondly, it is a powerful indicator of how much WWII imagery was floating about in children's culture back in the mid '70s that the advertisers knew full well that the target audience would instantly recognise facsimiles of Field Commander Montgomery and Rommel. It seems strange now, but I can attest that this pair of famous foes did have almost pin-up status among the schoolboys of Britain at that time.  

But thirdly, and most cunningly of all however, note too that this ad pitches the game as an exercise in strategy. Oh no, this isn't just glorifying war, dear parent, it's educational, it's like chess! However the ad manages to have its cake and eat it, for it also makes very clear that for all its talk of cunning and strategic play, it is actually about FIRE! BANG! FUCK ME! DID YOU SEE THOSE FUCKING TANKS GO FUCKING EVERYWHERE? I BET THEY SMASHED EVERY FUCKING WINDOW IN THE BASTARD HOUSE FLYING OFF THAT FUCKING BOARD! 

..Ooops... Sorry... Got a bit carried away there!

 But it's true! Could this game either a) look anymore exciting and b) say anymore clearly:  BUY THIS NOW YOU LITTLE BASTARD ?  

Yes, the advertisers knew their market well. What's more they understood that Tank Command was a BIG PRESENT. That is to say, this wasn't something you bought with your pocket money, or saved up for. No, this was a job for a birthday, or a top item on a list to Santa. Hence the ad is designed to generate maximum pester power from the kids, while at the same time appearing worthy enough to appeal to parents.  

However there was one ghastly snag to all of this, one that would only become apparently after the wrapping paper had been torn off. That was that the game itself is actually mind-crushingly dull. Basically for all the talk of strategy, shells and tank combat, what it all boils down to is this. The players simultaneously fires a shell at each other. And this is done by... wait for it... picking a number between one and ten, represented by some odd looking pegs nestled behind screens at the ends of the board. The choices are revealed - the screens tilt open you see - and whoever picked higher wins. The two numbers are added together, and the winner gets to move his tanks forward by that amount. And yes, all the tanks move all together, all the time. So there's no exciting manoeuvers here - it's just all forward or all back. In a straight line. Forever! Then shells are fired again, I mean, numbers are picked again, with the twist being that you can't pick a number you've had before. And this continues until one side's tanks have been pushed back onto a minefield i.e. the edge of the board. Or rather in most case, until all the numbers are gone. In which case, you play another round. Oh, still my beating heart! 

And what about the explosive action? Well once on the minefield, you can pull a string with a knob on the end... And no, I'm not referring to how you felt for being suckering into getting this game. No, you pull said string and this raises some little pegs in the mines which then knock the little tanks out of position... A bit... Sometimes... If you were lucky... 

Yes, there was certain a noticeable dearth of model tanks flying into the air in an explosive fashion. And what's more, a distinct lack of any excitement in the gameplay, which essentially was just picking random numbers. All too often, the result of the "shelling" was the tanks driving forward and back over the middle of the board, with neither side reach the mines. Yes, Tank Command was something of a wash-out. Which is a shame really, as the game parts themselves were very nicely designed - the board looked fantastic, and the model tanks were nice.  

*Actual excitement not included! 

Now arguably, all this pointless lurching about in No Man's Land was actually a highly accurate simulation of what was really happened much of the time in World Wars I and II, but historical accuracy doth not necessarily make for an exciting game for ages 8 and above. And in this case it most definitely didn't; a fact compounded by the feeble nudging of toy tanks that came in place of the flying models seen in the advert. Indeed, for many of us, Tank Command was a first and bitter lesson about truth in advertising...

THE 'ORRIBLE 'OUSE OF TERRIBLE OLD TAT #12 - Sea Monkeys!

Welcome dear friends once more to the deary den of dubious delights that is the 'Orrible 'Ouse of Terrible Old Tat! Now then, in the several other explorations of the eerie ephemera and arcane items, the subject of mail order items has reared its suspect head a couple of times, and hence this week we are going to take a look at one of the most famous pieces of old tat ever sold through magazine small adverts - yes, the highly mendacious miracles that are the Sea Monkeys!

Now I'm guessing that most of you first came across this bizarre form of aquatic pet through the pages of a comic, and indeed specifically in the pages of an American comic book. For while some younger readers may well have picked up some Sea Monkeys in a toy or pet store in more recent years, for a long time mail order ads were the only place you could get hold of Sea Monkeys - something that perhaps contributed to their sales as we'll shortly discover. What's more, they advertised in more or less every comic book going, with their creator regularly taking out more than 3 million pages of ads in a year back in the 1960s and 1970s!

I am sure I'm not alone in being both totally mystified and intensely curious about what these alleged wonder pets actually were. Surely there wasn't a race of diminutive merfolk with strange crowned heads and pot bellies you could keep in a fish tank? Wouldn't I have heard about these so-called Sea Monkeys before? Surely David Attenborough and Johnny Morris would have told me about them on the telly if they were as amazing as the ads made out. But as I was in the UK, I knew sending off for them was probably a no go, and so it would be literally years after first seeing that ad - in the pages of a House of Mystery if I recall correctly - before I discovered the truth.

The saga of the Sea Monkeys begins back in the late 1950s, when a chap named Harold von Braunhut spotted a species of brine shrimp named Artemia Salina being sold in a pet store. Now these little creatures inhabit salt water lakes, and the interesting thing that von Braunhut discovered about them was the fact that these little fellows had a curious defence against their habitats drying up. This was a process known as cryptobiosis - essentially the micro shrimps would form a protective casing around themselves and go into a suspended state until water returned.  

This remarkable survival trick fascinated von Braunhut, and he realised that possibly with some tinkering, the brine shrimp's method of cryptobiosis could make it the first just-add-water pet. Hence with the help of microcrustacean expert Dr Anthony D'Agostino, a formula was devised to add the necessary saline and other environmental elements to make ordinary tap water a habitat for brine shrimp. Soon they had cracked it, and von Braunhut's new pet was ready to go. He named his new creation "Instant Life" and it cost just half a dollar. But back then your 49 cents you just got a couple of packets of formula and eggs - you had to supply your own tank, although as the ads pointed out, you could hatch these creatures in an ordinary jar!

And so in the early '60s, he began to look at getting his product into toy stores. However a similar product from the famous toy company Wham-O - the folks who brought you the hula hoop, the frisbee and silly string to name but a few - had just been created, the Instant Fish. This projected toy was thought to be the next Big Thing and had caused massive excitement within the industry. Certainly it sounded amazing! A tank that came with a block of mud that contained eggs of the African killifish - just add water and hey presto, an aquarian full of rainbow coloured exotic fish. However the Instant Fish had bombed badly when it was realised they couldn't produce enough eggs on a regular basis to support a toy line. And therefore when von Braunhut was shopping around his own just-add-water pet kit, none of the big players were the slightest bit interesting, fearing another Instant Fish fiasco.

So then, von Braunhut looked to sell directly to the customer and had the smart idea to advertise in comics. The beauty of advertising in comic-books was that firstly it was very cheap, and secondly you could reach your target market of children directly. And as you could send coins, no cheques, credit cards or postal orders were needed, and so no parents who might veto replying to odd small ads in comic books needed to be involved! Soon he was taking out bigger and better ads, and came up with a new brand name too- Sea Monkeys! Incidentally the name "Sea Monkeys" came from the fact that the tails of the brine shrimp reminded von Braunhut of monkey's tails, while the sea part was simply down to the fact they lived in salt water... although technically, brine shrimp live in salt lakes rather than oceans. However that was the least perplexing thing about the newly minted Sea Monkeys. For the bigger and better ads, Von Braunhut enlisted the talents of a true comic book legend, Joe Orlando, who duly came up with the now iconic art featuring a family of very bizarre looking beings (as seen at the top of this page).

However despite many kids being disappointed that they didn't own a colony of miniature merfolk, and that often the brine shrimp tended not to live very long, the Sea Monkeys business prospered. And in fairness, Von Braunhut did offer a 2 year guarantee for replacement eggs if yours died, and over the years he developed a new hardier breed of shrimp that lived longer. And certainly plenty of kids got over that initially disappointing discovery that they'd bought a tank of little shrimps, for lucrative sidelines soon sprang up - food packets, new batches of formula, and a host of accessories (usually tanks in novelty shapes). Eventually, the Sea Monkey brand was so successful that the kits began to appear in toy stores at last! And now over fifty years later, they are still selling well to this very day. Of course those old somewhat fanciful, if not downright mendacious ads are now long gone, but Joe Orlando's mer-family are still going strong, now serving as brand mascots.