They say if you put an English man on a desert island he’ll come up with a class hierarchy. Turns out the same can be said for a Night Garden….
Poor little Makka Pakka. The tramp of the night garden. He’s found an old shopping trolley/Og Pog in which to cart his strange selection of wares, his fixation with rocks hints at a mental instability (sadly all too common in the homeless) and of course his need to earn a crust by trying to wash everything and everyone in the Night Garden firmly establishes him as the Night Gardens underclass. Poor Makka Pakka. I doubt I’m the only one who wants to give him a big hug, find a proper mattress, insulation and upholstery for his little rocky hovel.
The Working Class
The working class, otherwise known as ‘the masses’ are typified by 2 creatures in the class conscious Night Garden. The rural poor are typified by the Tombliboos and the urban poor by the Pontipines and Wattingers.
Taking the latter first, they’re living cheek by jowl, 10 per room in cramped terrace houses, with no obvious sanitation and of course, they’re all small. As is often typified by the urban poor there is a great deal of community cohesion, the Pontipines are frequently calling on and hunting for the Wattingers and vica versa. (We’re choosing to ignore the fact that they’re living at the bottom of a tree, in a garden here…)
The Tombliboos are the rural underclass. Bigger and more robust than the pontipines due to fresher air, less cramped living conditions and more plentiful food supplies (they are frequently seen devouring pinky ponk juice). They however display many characteristics that distinguish them as part of the masses. As with the urban underclass the sense of community cohesion is immediately evident, you never see a lone Tombliboo. There are however some less flattering behaviours that distinguish these as part of the masses. Firstly they drop their pants at the slightest encouragement and have no problems leaving their dirty laundry out for all to see. If Jeremy Kyle ever paid a visit to the Night Garden you know he’d make a bee line to the Tombliboos strange hedge.
The Aspirational middle class
Unquestionably Oopsie Daisy. She has an actual proper bed. She is clearly ever so proud of this bed given the amount of time she spends chasing it around the night garden. Determined to keep up appearances it is always immaculately made up and nobody else is allowed in it…apart from one slip up with that rogue Iggle Piggle, but thats ok Oopsie Daisy, even nice girls err occasionally.
There’s a lot to admire about Oopsie Daisy, she’s warm, principled, inclusive, hard working and a talented dancer and singer. Her success is all the more commendable given she’s at two distinct disadvantages namely female and of an ethnic minority.
I love Oopsie Daisy, she’s blatently the Beyoncé of the Night Garden.
The Upper Class
It has to be Iggle Piggle. He’s so blue blooded it shines out of him and the soles of his shoes are pure Louboutin Red. His sense of entitlement knows no bounds, he merrily struts through the Night Garden like he owns the place, and do you know what I reckon he does. As per the typical English landowner he magnanimously opens up his grounds to the riff raff, but there are some areas that are strictly out of bounds. You never see anyone else on the golden pathway after all. Plus he’s the one with the yacht (well, boat) and you never see him sharing that. He’s obviously got the Night Garden’s factor (Derek Jacobi) in his pocket as he merrily flouts all the Night Garden rules (e.g. bed time) with no repercussions. Like many an aristocrat he flirts with celebrity – Oopsie Daisy/Beyonce but also has enough insouciant charm to regularly cavort with the likes of Makka Pakka without caring a jot what anyone else thinks. Long Live Iggle Piggle. Isn’t that a Pip?