day eighty-nine - the 9 o’clock tiger

With all the hype about Tiger King going around at the moment, (no - I haven’t succumbed to watching), I think it’s time to expose a far more insidious tiger related crime against humanity.

A friend of mine recently asked me about my earliest traumatic memory. Strange question you may say - in retrospect, I probably should have. But after a little thought, my mind settled on something truly harrowing. A children’s show from the early 80’s that was designed to get kids to go to bed on time. What it did, was make me terrified of the dark.

I’ll never forgive Barbara Bolton, the author of the book upon which it was based. “Jandy Malone and the Nine O'clock Tiger” - it should have been burned, or at least banned - freedom of speech be damned. Nor will I forgive the ABC for making it into a short film that was shown in public schools annually. Honourable mention should go to the people, nay drunkards, on The Children’s Book Council of Australia who actually commended the book! Sadists the whole stinking lot of them.

If you think I’m exaggerating… have a read of the back cover.

See?! Do you get it now?? Holy pile of childhood fears Batman!! It even reads worse than I imagined!

This silly, dodgy looking bastard of a multi-coloured paper tiger would wiggle and wobble his way down the hall if you hadn’t nodded off before 9. Nothing terrifying at all. Nothing to see here - apparently.

But it was terrifying to a very young me. Never having had them before, I then got nightmares frequently. This dopey bugger would be the star of the show (along an increasing cast of cronies - especially the rollers from Return to Oz - don’t get me started on them). This recurring nightmare was a huge part of my childhood, and I can still feel the terror I experienced when I think of it now.

I vividly remember waking up one night looking directly up the hall. The Nine O’Clock Tiger was wobbling towards me. I couldn’t make a noise, stuck between fight or flight. It came closer until it started to move through my body and come out of the wall back down the hall to wobble towards me again. That was it. I screamed, which woke the whole house (if not the neighbourhood). Dad, bless his cotton socks, didn’t know what what happening, but thinking there may have been an intruder, let out a blood-curdling roar as he charged into the room hoping to scare off whatever it was. Bloody Champion!

The school, knowing the impact it had on me the first time, still made me sit in the auditorium the following year, but I was allowed to cover my eyes. The third year, I was allowed to sit outside, still in earshot, but the damage had been done - repeatedly.

It was literally years before I recovered. And now, there seems to be little trace of this atrocity online. PLEASE - If anyone remembers this, let me know! There is a reddit thread, and apparently there was a support group on Facebook at some stage. I think, if I can find them, I will have found my people.

So to the 9 o’clock Tiger, Babs Bloody Bolton, the genius at the A-Bloody-C and the Department of Bastards/Education, thanks. Thanks a bloody lot you destroyers of childhoods - bringers of nightmares. May your bread be forever stale, your pen forever run out of ink, and be forever 2 sheets of toilet paper short for the task.

Pricks.

Kilt of the day - Ross Modern Hunting Tartan

Soundtrack of the day - The sound of a young boy’s terrified screams being drowned out by the heroic roar of his Father

Dedication of the day (yes it’s explicit) - F@$% You (Very Much) - Lily Allen
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=scXxt6QOyHA

Link of the day - The only proof of 9 o’clock tiger related trauma I can find on the internet
https://www.reddit.com/r/australia/comments/3cyzug/do_you_remember_the_nine_oclock_tiger/

Yes. I’m still angry.
Yes. The pain is real.
No. I am not alone in this grief.
One day - together, we will rise.

(Shizen… look at the time. I’d better get to bed!)