Sister and I watched a documentary of sorts the other night. My Fake Baby, it was called. It was about dolls, but really, really lifelike ones. You can get them custom-made to your specifications. It’s weird. Like ordering a designer baby. The people who buy them actually push them around in prams and cuddle them and stuff!
One couple, who were completely barking mad a little eccentric, decided they weren’t ready to make the necessary commitment towards having a child, but as they were quite broody they made do with these “Re-borns” instead. The woman went all the way to New York to collect her latest one (Sophie), and sat in the hotel room awaiting the courier in the manner of a dad-to-be waiting outside the delivery room. It was ridiculous. “People might think I’m strange when they see me,” she said at one point, “they say it’s weird just because I’m a grown woman pushing a doll around in a pram. But I don’t see why they should say that.”
Err, because of that reason right there, love. You’re a grown woman, pushing a doll around in a pram. You just said it.
One other lady kept coming on screen in tears, talking sadly about her little grandson, Harry. She told us how much she missed him and would give anything to have him back, showed us pictures, told us how one spot in the garden always reminds her of him, explained how it almost felt like he was her own because she used to look after him so much. As this information was gradually revealed to us throughout the programme, Sister and I began to feel compassion for the poor dear. “See, I can understand that, I suppose,” said Sister, referring to her reasons for wanting a custom-made “Harry” doll. I nodded in agreement. “Yeah… it’s a bit creepy, but if it helps her with her grief…” By the end of the show, we were very sympathetic towards her heartbreak, and couldn’t help but feel amazed and slightly deceived when she slipped in the sentence “My daughter and her husband decided to emigrate, and they took my Harry with them.”
Good grief.
She then went online to show Real Harry the Fake Harry via her webcam.
“Look, Harry,” she simpered, “look at my new Baby Harry. I’ve got a new Baby Harry.”
“Poor Harry!” cried Sister and I, fearing for the wee lad’s self-esteem and feelings. “Please tell him it’s just a doll,” added Sister, quite cross by this point.
“Is it a doll?” asked Real Harry, peering hard at his screen.
“No,” simpered Totally Deranged Woman, “It’s a real baby! It’s my new Baby Harry!”
Real Harry stared intently in silence for a moment. Sister and I shook our heads in disgust, feeling sad for the little guy. He then won our utmost respect by sitting back with a laugh.
“Don’t be silly, Grandma!” he grinned in amusement, “It’s a doll, you numpty!”
“Don’t call Grandma a numpty!” exclaimed Totally Deranged Woman, aghast.
“Ha ha ha!” Sister and I chorused in delight.
Honestly. The world is fast becoming one big farce. Something will have to be done before we all start taking pooper-scoopers along when we walk our toy dogs in the park.
Filed under: babies, confusion, dolls, mental health, sheer silliness, TV, weird
McLovely and I also watched that programme. My favourite bit was when barking lady, brought “Baby Harry” in to meet her husband for the first time. He replied with “I dont like it. Its like looking at a baby on a mortuary slab!” How offended she was! Very funny.
I do feel that the British government are to blame. It was them who thought that “care in the community” was a good idea…
Ha ha ha.
Have you ordered yours yet?
Hails – how I agree. Those women were totally demented. How mad is it to push a dolly around in a pram when you’re 40+? Did you notice how the really mad one had long flowing hair. Long flowing hair on an old girly is a prime sign of craziness. Unless she’s gospel hall… er maybe that’s not a get-out clause. Thoughts?
BTW – you were mentioned at recent blogmeet as having a very funny, well-written blog – fancy coming to next one?
McBouncy – McLovely must surely now appreciate that you aren’t THAT wacky, as wives go?!
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Billy – No… I have my ickle wickle baby kitty Kat…
Nelly – Completely agree about the long hair. Gospel hall is no get-out clause… in fact, if anyone tries to tell you God will be cross with you for cutting your hair, I think it’s probably fair enough to write them off as nutters. However, my observation re: how to identify craziness was when they appeared with that King Charles Spaniel. I informed Sister that anyone who owns one of those things is generally a bit loopy. I don’t know why – it’s just been my experience. Watch out for it.
[Also - I really, really, really wanted to go to the blogmeet but was (a) scared about arriving on my own (and also getting lost before I ever made it there) and (b) nervous about people realising I can only be funny when I have time to think about what I'm writing. Actual conversations? Yeesh. I can work on (b) for the next one, but only if you will meet me at the train station and save me from (a)... please, blogmother?