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Regular news and insight from our many poets, writers, educators and facilitators

16 June 2026

Posted by Harley Truslove

Tellytubby Tales

Today we were in Studio 3, so everyone had to get to their feet for a round of “makey-uppey” (much like keepy-uppey, but this involved throwing a ball to each other and making up a story one word at a time). This is what our writers created:



Five cats sat on a bridge and ate cheeseburgers. It was not very nice, but they swallowed all of the flowers gracefully. One bad day they decided to think about counselling. Charlie and it went towards the cancer. Rebecca didn’t enjoy eating real fish because fish reminded her of death. This was shocking because every time they absorbed it they didn’t die for ages. Rebecca loved dogs because dogs will live for a short time, however Rebecca hated fish. 


Loads of people work fishing so Rebecca dove into their ponds and killed grandmother fish. She now eats nothing but fish. All of them. Every single time. 





After that fishy tale, we took a moment to centre ourselves and Ali planted a doll of Po, the Tellytubby, in the centre of the group. She gave everyone an envelope of a character (to be kept a secret) and challenged our writers to write that person’s reaction to walking into the room and finding Po.


We had a druid stumbling upon the doll when on a pilgrimage to Stonehenge, a dog and a cat’s reaction, and a poet finding his muse in the Tellytubby.



We broke again to play another round of makey-uppey, but this time with rhyming lines rather than individual words (and here’s that for you):




I hate rhyming 

This is not good timing

By the way my name is Nyming

It seems a mountain of despair I’m climbing 


But on the bright side

At least I haven’t died 

My minds gone blank 

I’m gonna shoot up a bank

With my friendly shank 

And five planks 


Why me again 

Why not Ben

Because bens away at holiday school

I’d also go to school but I’m too cool

My friends say I’m a fool 

My parents say I’m a tool


What do they even do at holiday school 


They probably just drool

Nah that’s gross

I’m cleaner than most 

But cleaner than me 

Once again guys my name is Niming 

And I really hate rhyming 

Let’s talk about more things I hate

Like being forced to follow fate 

Like being forced to rhyme my words 

I don’t want to speak in verse 

I want to speak like birds 

They took my friend away in a hearse 

I killed him 

I killed Niming 

He has the same name as me 

After all’s said and done I really need to pee 




Then Ali asked our writers to rewrite their Po story, but from the perspective of Po herself. She was horrified when the dog was not her salvation from a group of toddlers but rather going to rip her to shreds, and was not impressed by the poet’s choice to ignore her warnings to leave her alone which flashed up on her tummy screen.


Our writer of the week was Jacob, for his vivid druid story and Tellytubby Darth Vader-like reveals of fatherhood.


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