TV: Too thick for The Tweenies?

By NICK SMITH

The four-year-old wants to do anything - except watch The Tweenies. "I don't get it," says Mackenzie. "What's happening? Is this The Tweenies?"

Maybe my son is thick, a few carriages short of a toy train. Because this is children's television, right? And Mackenzie is supposed to watch with rapt attention, oblivious to outside intrusions into his favourite pastime.

The Tweenies is apparently ground-breaking television for pre-school children. The four fantasy figures are also supposed to be replacing Teletubbies in the affections of anklebiters worldwide.

Such is TVNZ's confidence in the BBC production - which cost more than $22 million to make and is expected to generate international merchandising sales of $300 million a year - that it signed for 260 episodes starting this week.

All of which cuts no ice with my son, who sits plumb in the middle of the target audience of three to five-year-olds.

"I don't like this, Nick," Mackenzie opines, before offering the criticism that "this is stupid."

I had to agree, particularly in view of the fact that my assignment was to review The Tweenies through the four-year-old eyes of my truculent son, who is now demanding that we go to the beach.

The Tweenies is a huge worldwide industry, earning its makers twice as much cash as the Teletubbies, and is rated the No 1 children's programme in Britain.

The show focuses on four rag-doll characters - Jake, Fizz, Milo and Bella - all aged between three and five. (Haven't Mr and Mrs Tweenie heard of contraception?) Each character inhabits a strange world that is split into four sections: Song Time, Telly Time, Messy Time and News Time.

Having returned from an excellent game of pirates using a beach-side pohutukawa as a ship, I broach the prospect of another episode of The Tweenies.

"Can I watch cartoons?"

We watch Pinky and the Brain (Cartoon Network), an excellent animated series about a disgruntled and intelligent lab rat's perpetually unsuccessful attempts to take over the world. Mackenzie loved it, howling like a banshee during the many slapstick moments.

You can imagine my frustration at Mackenzie's predictable response to the suggestion of another round of The Tweenies.

The ungrateful wretch could not even be bought with the bribe of a chocolate biscuit to accompany the programme. Never mind. Having packed the ingrate off to bed, I attempt a little solo viewing. But my reaction mirrored that of my son's: "I don't get it."

I try drinking a six-pack, reasoning that my impaired faculties might mimic those of the target audience. I become more confused.

Which one is gay, I wonder. The Tweenies, I'm sure, is an excellent programme that will match TVNZ's expectations for huge ratings.

As for the Smith clan, we don't get it. Maybe we're thick.