Peppa Pig has pulled out of a Labour Party election event, saying she wished to avoid any controversy. "It's all far, far too political for me to understand," the BBC quotes Business Secretary Lord Mandelson as saying.
Peppa was scheduled to join Work and Pensions Secretary Yvette Cooper and
Cabinet Office minister Tessa Jowell on a visit to a children's centre. The event was intended
to highlight Labour's policies to support families.
Schools Secretary Ed Balls described the pre-school character as a 'global media star, acclaimed around the world'.
But E1 Entertainment, which licenses the cartoon, said it wanted to avoid controversy and withdrew rights for the character's use.
When not bossing her family (Mummy Pig, Daddy Pig and younger brother George), Peppa helps promote the Sure Start scheme. The programme provides government-funded children's services.
Children in 180 countries watch the much-loved porcine TV star. She generates £100m in retail revenue in the UK alone. She has sold 3m DVDs and 2m books.
Did you know that play dough is made with salt? Not just a pinch. Cups of the stuff. After the kids used up all the official stuff (pictured) in their toy sausage-maker last week, we brought out the scales and mixing bowl.
Making stomach crawl?
Beanie and her pal Morgenstern poured in flour, water and oil. Plus, of course, salt. Lots of salt. Cup after cup of white crystals. We skipped the boric acid and silicone.
After we added the pink colouring (a job for the grown-ups) the dough looked like post-partum stomach flab. Or the remains of gastric band surgery.
We kept adding flour. But the dough stuck to our hands like something excreted from alien space ships. Days later it remains embedded in my cuticles.
Our efforts did not smell like shop-bought Play Doh. A disappointment.
We have not yet replaced our salt supplies. Unsalted food may be doing wonders for our sodium levels, but it remains an acquired taste.
Beanie was frustrated at not being allowed to eat the dough. But with so much salt, it was inedible. Husband did a double-take when he saw innards on the kitchen table.
The children did not seem to mind.
It's that time of year again. When ordinary folk walk miles on Edinburgh's pavements by cover of darkness. Showing their bras to the world. Yes, the men too. And before you jump to any conclusions, wondering if I've got mixed up with a local hen party, let me explain. I have started training for a Half Moon (witty, eh?) at this year's Edinburgh 2010 Moon Walk event. I'll be walking thirteen miles through the night, pestered by lecherous drunkards, lacking sensation in my feet, desperate for my usual comfy bra and an indoors loo. But not such an ordeal, when you consider it's to raise money for breast cancer.