The Cabbage Patch Kids hanging about at “Ze Chou”.
Mrs Playmo refused to be in the picture yesterday due to events beyond her control. She did not have a good day, so I went along with her request to be absent from the picture.
She had already clipped her dress on back to front in her haste to leave the house, and had been decidedly snappy and irritable when I asked why she was in such a hurry.
As we approached the cabbage patch, she started looking around nervously and fiddling with her (-or should I say Amanda Shacklebottom’s-) handbag. “Are you expecting to see someone in particular?” I enquired, thinking back to her expression the evening before on chatting with the tall, dark and decidedly handsome Eric. “Do you think he’ll let you play with his truncheon tonight?”
Mrs Playmo turned on me, furious. “How dare you! It’s nothing like that! I’m… I’m… The vicar’s wife!” Flushed with anger and embarrassment, she ran ahead of me, and stopped beneath a cabbage leaf. As she opened her mouth to add a new lie to the equation, she was soaked from head to foot. Loud laughter ensued, and four small heads peeked over the leaf above us. The cabbage patch kids are not just a myth, they really exist in Playmobilia. They are crafty little things, and Mrs Playmo hates them (she assures me that the fact that they are Amanda Shacklebottom’s offspring has absolutely nothing to do with it).
“Are you wet, Mrs Playmo? Gosh, can’t imagine how that happened”. Uncontrollable laughter ensued. Mrs Playmo angrily brushed herself off. (Being made of plastic can be an advantage – no clothes to dry and no running mascara.). She turned and looked up at the children, shaking her fist and yelling, “I’ll ‘ave yer guts for garters, yer miserable li’l toads. When I get my ‘ands on you, I’ll slap yer so ‘ard you’ll end up with yer kecks on back to front!”
I was astonished, but made a mental note to remember her rather cool expressions for my own use. I sternly reminded Mrs Playmo that she was, as she had said a few minutes earlier, the vicar’s wife. She grunted and asked me to take a picture of her aggressors for her to show to the police. I have a suspicion that she was happy to have an excuse to visit the local station….
Multifarious meanderings 
ASBOs all round, then….
ASBO? Wassat? That’ll teach me to talk about Chupa Chups 🙂
What’s up with the orange one? Carrot patch relocation?
The orange one is one of the rare non-white inhabitants of the Playmo box. I’m not sure if he’s from Africa, Morocco, India or elsewhere…. the colour is a little strange. He’s the token immigrant. Mrs Playmo wants to know how come he isn’t the same colour as the Shacklebottom’s other children, and i told her it was none of her business.
Ha, I was going to ask about the orange one as well 🙂 Looks like he’s spent too much time on a sunbed!
I don’t get the white hair, either. Very strange. I don’t remember where he came from – I used him in a remake of Snow White once, he was one of the dwarves who helped Snow White stuff Prince Charming into her coffin before she ran away on his horse.
You have a wonderful imagination 🙂
I’m a nutter. But hey, I’m happy this way 😉
And most nutters don’t know they’re nutters, so you’re a step ahead 🙂
It’s the only way you can enjoy it at my age 🙂
I kind of feel squeamish looking at those veiny leaves
Oh, dear; Sorry. Please don’t throw up on your keyboard. Mrs Playmo can’t stand the sight of vomit.
Lol
Those cabbage patch kids apparently know how to press a grown-up’s buttons. I’m thinking the orange one looks like a Scandinavian that took a chance on a questionable bottle of instant-tan.
I think she should keep an eye on them. I agree with the tan-in-a-bottle idea – certainly doesn’t look natural.
Hilarious and I have just decided that I want to play with someone’s truncheon tonight.
Uh-oh. What have I gone and done….
Only good things….in my mind….
I’m in awe of that suntan………
Isn’t it… so…. uh….orange?
I gathered the tan one was a California surfer, only an orangish toy version. Bleached hair and super tan. But, I guess that would still make it a token immigrant. 🙂 and I had the same thoughts that vastlycurious had. BTW, I had to look that word up. We don’t use it in the U.S.
A Californian surfer. Now that would definitely make sense. But why on earth is he in my Playmo box? And will Mrs Playmo be keeping an eye on him as a potential future toy-boy?
What cheeky Playmobilettes! 🙂
Playmobilettes. LIKE. We could use the same word for those mopeds French kids chase around town on. Gosh, I just ended a sentence with a preposition.
Mrs Playmo is showing her true colours as a pirate in her previous life, with her “I’ll ‘ave yer guts for garters” etc way of speaking. 🙂
Having been a pirate in her previous life could explain a lot. My grandma appears to have been a pirate too 🙂
Shiver me timbers! I be surprised to hear that. Ye ‘ave done well to disguise it. 🙂
Kids nowadays, eh? No wonder Mrs Playmo’s vicar’s wife facade slipped for a moment…
I suspect that their mother put them up to it. After all, she was the one who put laxative chocolate in the WI cupcakes…