The first Christmas that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (They were called Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles in the UK, but this is one of the few occasions on which I concede that it was the Brits who were idiosyncratic. When it is the Americans, they are not idiosyncratic but simply WRONG.) action figures were released in the UK the demand for them was, as I remember it, quite incredible. The toy stores in which shipments were expected could be identified by the queues of parents which extended up the high street and round the corner hours before the shop even opened- customers were restricted to just two figures each, not just to stem the bloodshed and chaos which opening hours entailed, but to put a block on the burgeoning black market on the toys, some of which were changing hands for quite staggering sums. It was a sorry time to be one of those children whose parents do their Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve; almost, but not quite as sorry as the return to school after the holidays, where everyone except YOU would be comparing figures and accessories with gusto. Even the kids whose parents had bought them April O'Neil looked upon you with mingled scorn and derision- and that's really bad.

(I know what you're thinking, and I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I had Shredder and Michaelangelo, which meant that I was in the unique position of actually being able to play out plausible "Goodie vs. Baddie" scenarios, rather than having to resort to the ludicrously contrived storylines concocted by those whose well-meaning but short-sighted parents had bought them TWO of the Ninja Turtles.)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was my first and, so far, only experience of the long and protracted death of a loved one. The immense commercial viability of the Turtles ensured that there was never a deficit of audio, visual, digital or printed material on the market, resulting in attention overkill for the easily-distracted youth of the day- the first movie revived slowly flagging interest in the concept but, by the release of the second movie, we were almost all Turtled out. Even the 'shell-shock' jokes were beginning to wear a little thin.

One lunchtime, a boy in my school brought with him a completely unrecognisable action figure, which he claimed to be a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles toy his aunt and uncle had bought for him whilst holidaying in America, and was promptly mocked and taunted by his sceptical audience until he ran home in tears. A year later, when lagging UK television schedules finally started creeping up on their US counterparts, it emerged that he'd been telling the truth- but by then, no-one cared anymore.

And no, the boy WASN'T me, before you ask.