Yesterday I bought a copy of Twinkle – the picture paper specially for little girls, off the market.
I love Twinkle, and I was about to mentally thank the previous owner, when I noticed the selfish bitch had already done the puzzles.
I hope she didn’t win a Werebear.
Much more promising was the BABYSITTING GAME, in which you must look after your baby sibling, despite being about 3 yourself, and despite your dad being there. I think your dad has more important things to do, like watching Spender.
I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with these shit ‘board games’ you get in magazines. I can’t even play it because you have to provide your own dice and counters. Also Alex refused to play it with me, citing that he “had to do a thing”.
Instead, I’m forced to imagine I’m playing the BABYSITTING GAME. This approach has its merits, because at least I’ll definitely win.
OK, imaginary me threw a 5 with my imaginary dice.
The baby is happy to play with various nails and shit he found outside while I watch Peppa Pig, because I am 3. Remember, Dad is still shirking his parental responsibilities.
Move forward three spaces! Sadly, because I am a toddler I can’t count to three, so I move forward two spaces instead.
Wait, what?
What?
A building brick lands on my toe so I immediately run away and hide. Is the baby threatening me with further missiles? Dad really should step in at this point.
Oh fuck I’ve just noticed, I have to go back to the start. Even fictional me can’t win at this fucking game, against myself.
For fuck’s sake.
Right I’ve had enough of this. Imaginary me has somehow managed to throw a 9. With one dice. That’s how this works.
Hooray it’s time to put baby to bed! Again, where are any parents? The baby is the same bastard size as me, how am I supposed to get it up the stairs?
I’m making progress anyway. Unfortunately, my imaginary dice throws a 10, which puts me back here:
I know why they call this bit ‘Puzzle Time’ now. I’m fucking confused.
OK, it’s time to throw a 5.
Hooray. I have beaten myself. Dad still off somewhere, watching Spender.
Now it’s time to colour the picture using my paints or crayons. I probably won’t do that, if I’m perfectly honest.
Fin.
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World Of Crap 
I have quite a collection (smug) of Twinkle Anuuals. It was a gateway comic to Bunty then Hi!
(Which no one remembers and I’m sure I didn’t make up the clip on black hoop earrings that came free with the first one).
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I think I just went straight from Twinkle to my sister’s forbidden Just Seventeen magazines, which would explain why I am the way I am.
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1990? That cover art style is more like mid 1950s to early 1960s. No wonder the 90s kids were all off their heads on E and glow sticks if this was the alternative.
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A kid scrumping apples and then off to bake a pie – I thought 1970s at the latest. It’s like the old books I used to find in my much-older cousins’ houses.
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