Recently I had to watch every episode of Peppa Pig that has ever been made. This was in order to compile a list of all Miss Rabbit’s jobs, for this article.
To date there have been 213 episodes made, including a Halloween special, a 10 minute Christmas Special, and the 15 minute cinema special Peppa Pig: The Golden Boots.
1080 minutes, or something approaching 18 hours.
There isn’t a full IMDB list for Miss Rabbit, surprisingly, so I watched all the episodes while drinking 39,734 cups of tea. This is because I am a hard hitting journalist, and in no way an idiot and a div.
I thought you might be interested to share my gradual mental breakdown with me, so I made notes as I went along. It’s surprisingly hard to make notes while you’re stuffing food in your face, swearing at the TV, crying, and trying to put your legs behind your head out of boredom, all at once. But I managed, because I am good. You haven’t done this, stop judging me.
Wow, I really get to watch every episode of Peppa Pig ever made?
I get money for watching Peppa Pig. If I thought getting paid to write about Rainbow was a high point, now I am beginning to lack oxygen.
This is going to be good. Upon receiving my brief, I rush out to Tesco for supplies. This is my first mistake, because Tesco is full of people, and I don’t like people. I survive my ordeal by closing my eyes and barging around in random directions until people get out of my way, which is exactly the right thing to do.
I have wine. I have bread and butter. I have hundreds and thousands. I have Mr Kipling angel cake slices. And, inexplicably, I have some Shake ‘n’ Vac. Now I am ready!
At this point, I predict that I will be able to watch every episode in about an hour. Maths has never been my strong point.
Why do they all live on a a hill? Seriously, look at the state of this hill:
Why does Mummy Pig write nonsense on her computer?
Why is Daddy Pig helping George to cheat at hide and seek? What a shit. He must hate Peppa. He wishes Peppa was dead. I do.
There’s an episode where Peppa gets the measles. This is so nicked from Rainbow.
The more I watch this, the more I see plots that have been ‘inspired’ by Rainbow. And I develop a theory. Peppa, as the loud, narcissistic show off, is clearly Zippy. George, being a fucking coward, is, well, George. Mummy Pig is Geoffrey: the sensible, capable adult.
That leaves Daddy Pig:
I could so write a thesis on this. In fact, I could write an entire book. But I suspect if I pitched a book about the parallels between Peppa Pig and Rainbow, publishers would possibly just stare at my email before politely moving house.
Peppa is pushing George on a swing. Mummy Pig just told Peppa: “Push George gently.” is that like Inspector George Gently?
What the hell is ‘Ezza’ magazine? All the women ones read it. Meanwhile, the men read ‘Spud’ magazine, and the dentist’s waiting room contains issues of ‘VRRR’ and ‘POKLY’.
Every time Daddy Pig laughs I get an irresistible urge to add “Green Giant!” at the end of it.
The dentist is a doctor. Aren’t dentists called ‘Mr’? Have I been seeing fraudulent dentists all my life? Maybe I could be a dentist. My only stumbling block would be that other people’s mouths make me sick all over the floor.
Rebecca Rabbit blushes whenever carrots are mentioned. After the first hundred times I’m starting to wonder if she likes carrots a bit too much.
Perhaps the most important question is ‘why am I doing this.’
Has anyone ever successfully swung a swing all the way round? If so, did they break the universe?
Do they not put as much wine in a bottle as they used to?
Why do I feel the urge to cry.
About 3 hours in I started eating bread and butter sprinkled with hundreds and thousands. It seemed like the thing to do. This is not going to help me to not look like Daddy Pig.
Other things eaten during the first few hours of this marathon include Skips, angel cake, chicken sandwiches, and my own knuckles.
Becoming unusually obsessed with bacon. I could make a bikini and a skirt thing out of bacon. Then I could wear it and, I dunno, flap it about. But that would require going to Tesco to buy bacon, which would require making another food outfit to wear to Tesco. My arse is too big to be covered with slices of bread, I don’t have that much bread. Ironically, the bread I did have is now plumping up my arse. I could just wear jeans, but that would be the coward’s way out.
Come on, I can do this. I am no longer paying attention to the plot. I am busy singing Eye Of The Tiger in my head. There are only 300,091 episodes to go. I bet Mr Dinosaur gets lost in at least fucking one of them.
I did try doing demi-plies along with the Ballet episode, but my knees went all funny and wrong.
Nothing is helping. Maybe I should do a press up? The man who wrote Eye Of The Tiger probably did lots of press ups while he was writing it. This doesn’t help me. The useless fucking fuck. Briefly consider finding out who wrote Eye Of The Tiger and emailing him for help. Decide against it, as mental.
What is point of life.
My life choices have led me to having to watch 18 hours of Peppa Pig. What are they laughing at? What’s so funny? Nothing, that’s what. I’m missing the darts for this. Still, it’s only BDO darts, so I’m sure they’ll still both be on double 1 when I get back to it.
Daddy Pig has just tried to convince George that lettuce is “yummy”. Wrong. You know what’s yummy? Toblerones. Not lettuce.
Why do I have to be grown up? I’d quite like to just have a room like Cousin Chloe’s room, and dick about making puppets all day. I didn’t have to worry about tax returns when I was 9.
Consider abandoning project, quitting job, moving to Orkney and becoming a lighthouse keeper. They might already have a lighthouse keeper, but I could always kill him. So many pigs. Now I am genuinely weighing up the difficulty of this plan vs watching another 10 episodes of Peppa Pig.
Time has become meaningless.
According to Google, the Czech for ‘pigs are crap’ is ‘prasata jsou kecy’.
The futility of this.
This takes the form of many instances of ‘oh fuck off’, eventually reaching a high point of shouting at Peppa that she’s a ‘stupid spoiled whore’. The occurrence of this phrase is how I gauge that it might be time for another break.
When does it become ok to stop calling Peppa Pig a ‘stupid whore’? Never, that’s when.
You know what’s a good idea? If I put wine on my cereal instead of milk.
Alex keeps calling Danny Dog’s mum ‘Mrs Bitch’. He’s not helping, so I banish him from the living room. I am a hard hitting journalist, I need to concentrate. Eye Of The Tiger is beginning to make a comeback.
8. I will kill again
There are only a few episodes left. Anywhere between 4 and 37,000, I’m not sure. If, by any chance you are reading this in the past, please help me.
Feel better now. Life is manageable. Peppa Pig is not manageable. But I am hard. I channel the spirit of Steven Seagal, and spend the next half an hour saying “Yeah… THE BLOOD BANK!” to anything Peppa says. I wish I could kick them all in the head or arm.
It is over. And now I am an expert on Peppa sodding Pig. Sweet, merciful death awaits me. But Ezza magazine looks really good. I’m out of KitKats.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from the experience, it’s this: No.