Canadian-born British operator, president of the British Puppet Guild, died after a ‘short illness’

Ronnie Le Drew, best known for operating the puppet Zippy on the classic children’s television programme Rainbow, has died aged 78 after a short illness. The news was confirmed by the British Puppet Guild, of which Le Drew was president.

The Canadian-born British puppeteer was also known for working on 1986’s Labyrinth alongside David Bowie as well as 1986’s Little Shop of Horrors and various Muppet movies including in 1992’s The Muppet Christmas Carol. He worked on various iterations of Sooty, alongside Harry and Matthew Corbett, usually as Sweep, Sooty’s sidekick.

Politicians are claiming that a hit Netflix animation is Russian propaganda aimed at the ‘militarisation of children’. But it’s far from a recent problem – even the CIA has funded kids’ entertainment

When Liberal Democrat MP Tom Gordon spoke earlier this month in the commons of the “militarisation of children”, he wasn’t warning of a generation suddenly taking arms. He was talking about a cartoon bear. Gordon, along with a cross-party group of more than 50 MPs, had written a parliamentary letter urging that an animated children’s show be banned on the basis it is Russian propaganda.

The accused animation is Masha and the Bear, a Russian programme aimed at preschoolers. The show is one of the most popular series on YouTube, and is available in the UK on ITVX and Netflix. The programme follows the adventures of the young, pink-hooded Masha and her brown bear companion in a remote woodland. But MPs – as well as Ukraine’s Center for Countering Disinformation and Estonia’s minister for foreign affairs – see Masha’s use of Soviet-era military costumes as a flex of Russian “soft power”.

In this week’s newsletter: The last time they were a British screen staple was the mid-90s. Once a genuine cultural phenomenon, the Wombles could be successfully resurrected – or derided as woke

At the height of Womble-mania in the mid-70s, Elisabeth Beresford, creator of the snout-nosed, litter-collecting sensations, laid down three strict ground rules for anyone appearing in costume as her characters: no smoking; no drinking; and absolutely no taking your head off in public.

The latter was a real problem: in 1974 a cabaret club in Liverpool was forced to sack the entire cast of Wombles – the cast provided by theatre impresario and future Everton FC chairman Bill Kenwright, no less – after a disastrous opening night performance of their Christmas panto that featured inaudible singing, under-rehearsed dance routines, Wombles that looked “too thin” and, most unforgivably, one of the cast members removing their head in the theatre wings “in full view of the children”, according to the club’s director. Things got worse at another shambolic Wombles performance in Belfast, which was cut short after less than an hour, after booing, catcalls and furious mothers storming the stage, brandishing handbags and umbrellas.

Five episodes have been dubbed into Australian language Yolŋu Matha for Naidoc Week, with Bandit voiced by a founding member of rock band King Stingray

It’s already been translated into 120 languages around the world but soon the globally loved children’s show Bluey will be available in an Australian Indigenous language for the first time.

Five episodes from seasons one and two have been dubbed into Yolŋu Matha, the Australian First Nations language of North-east Arnhem Land, as part of an initiative for National Aboriginal and Islanders Day Observance Committee (Naidoc) Week.

Litter-picking creatures emerge from underground for global franchise targeting nostalgic adults and gen Alpha

Move over Paddington Bear. After almost 30 years off screen, the Wombles – the furry, litter-picking creatures who live beneath Wimbledon Common – are set for a comeback.

The characters, whose motto is “Make Good Use of Bad Rubbish”, are being revived after the consolidation of the brand’s intellectual property rights under The Blair Partnership, which will oversee its global development.

He’s pink, dotty and as British as a Boots meal deal. In recent months he’s duetted with pop stars, appeared on Saturday Night Live and been declared the UK’s equivalent of Mickey Mouse. What’s behind this strange comeback?

Margaret Thatcher wasn’t to blame for the closure of Britain’s coalmines. Mr Blobby was. A harrowing spoof documentary exposed this horrific truth during the finale of Saturday Night Live UK’s debut season. Back in 1992, drilling activity at Nottinghamshire’s Grumthorpe Colliery awoke an evil entity buried underground. Mr Blobby promptly went on an unstoppable murderous rampage, ripping off miners’ limbs and becoming “an atom bomb made flesh”.

Mr Blobby being disinterred is an apt metaphor. Recent months have seen the pink-and-yellow agent of chaos unearthed and on the comeback trail. He has appeared on primetime TV shows, duetted with popstars, and convinced nostalgic punters to part with a surprising amount of cash to get their hands on Blobby-themed merchandise. What has prompted the comeback of a character once considered irredeemably naff?

Something Special, his show for children with special educational needs, has earned its star Justin Fletcher an MBE, children’s Baftas and generations of fans. Our writer and his daughter spend a day in the company of CBeebies royalty

After a long, hot, summer’s day drive, we finally arrive at Mr Tumble’s house (which for today’s filming is located in rural Oxfordshire), and suddenly everything looks just like it does on TV. There are the coloured spotty flags, the spotty Tumble Sofa and – at the centre of it all – Mr Tumble in his trademark orange shirt, stripy yellow trousers and red nose. As my 11-year-old daughter, Molly, runs on set to greet this giant of children’s broadcasting, I don’t know who feels more starstruck: her or me.

We’re here to watch the filming of the latest series of Something Special, the CBeebies show specifically aimed at children with delayed learning and communication skills, although all children tend to love it. Its star Mr Tumble, AKA Justin Fletcher, stops to show us his famous props: the Tumble Tapp – his specially modified iPad – and the Spotty Bag. We sit on the Tumble Sofa and, as we sing and sign along to the famous Hello Song, I’ve never felt under more pressure to perform: “Hello, hello. How are you? Hello, hello. It’s good to see … Molly.”

In the hugely popular pre-school animation, composer Joff Bush references and rearranges classical tunes in all the right places – and never plays it for cheap laughs. Plus, the Wigmore Hall sees the writing on the wall

Classical music’s continued battle for relevance and impact continues to find new nadirs, from tired experiments with formats to bathetic look-at-me clickbait. But what if there was an answer – a joyous, creative and positive one – staring at us with irresistibly big eyes?

There really might be, in the shape of a blue heeler puppy. I’m talking, of course, about Bluey, the Australian cartoon for children of all ages. The numbers are huge: it was the most streamed show in the US last year, with more than 45bn minutes watched, and a billion streams and counting across the world for Bluey’s albums and soundtracks, all written by Joff Bush, the Australian musician who has led the composition of the music for each of the 154 episodes so far.

It’s not simply that kids’ culture has improved since I was young. Across stage, screen and cinema, grownup offerings pale in comparison to those aimed at my son

World Book Day dawns once more, with its morning chorus of swearing and sticky tape. This year, it falls shortly before we’re throwing a Harry Potter birthday party, so the living room has already surrendered to chocolate frogs and wand clay and preparations for the Dobby Sock Toss. Good timing, then. If you’ve already made a Nagini piñata, what’s one more hippogriff for the list?

Is competitive cosplay the best way to foster a love of literature in young people? That’s for finer minds than mine to debate, but with books like these, I’m surprised it’s required. What a time to have recently mastered phonics. What reluctant reader could fail to laugh at Mr Gum, or indeed anything by Andy Stanton? Who wouldn’t be thrilled by Louis Sachar or Lottie Brooks or Malorie Blackman?

The queen of children’s edutainment is back after four very long months, with her most extraordinary, envelope-pushing and moving special yet. Cue absolute relief for parents the world over

For those whose cultural experiences are largely absorbed through the prism of their mewling infants’ demands for the same thing 437 times in a row, it’s been a long four months. In late October last year, Rachel Accurso released Brush Your Teeth Song with Ms Rachel and Elmo. The 48m views it has since racked up reflect its status as a solid addition to the Ms Rachel canon, and the whole thing is obviously enhanced by Elmo’s guest spot. But it was studded with reheated clips from previous compilations, such as The Wheels on the Bus from Blippi & Ms Rachel Learn Vehicles, and It’s Potty Time from Potty Training With Ms Rachel. There is a limit to the number of plays an adult can reasonably be expected to endure of a bear puppet in a nappy hymning his ability to relieve himself, and the Ms Rachel hive is thirsting for something new.

Enter, on Friday, Learn With Ms Rachel – Friendship & Social Skills, an hour-long compendium, in which the leviathan of contemporary children’s edutainment helps her guests “model important social skills such as kindness, taking turns, sharing, asking a friend to play and helping others”. A few minutes on any of the subreddits that pore over Ms Rachel content clarifies the weight of this cultural moment. Or you could ask my two-year-old about it.

This starry half-hour anniversary special captures the spirit of the original TV show at points, and will delight younger viewers. But Kermit’s voice takes some getting used to …

The Muppet Show celebrates its 50th anniversary this year. Or so it is alleged. Obviously this cannot be true, because it would mean that all of us who remember gathering around the television for the most sensational, inspirational, celebrational, Muppetational half hour of the week must also be … Well, anyway. Let us not dwell.

Let us remember instead the magic that ensued as Jim Henson’s creation unfurled before us, as the chaotic troupe of puppets put on their traditional vaudeville show. The permanent cast included the inimitable Miss Piggy (“I don’t care what you think of me. Unless you think I am awesome, in which case you are right”), Gonzo, the Swedish Chef, sombre patriot Sam Eagle (“Freakos one, civilisation zero”), assorted pigs (often in space), scientist Dr Bunsen Honeydew and his heartbreakingly hapless assistant Beaker (the latter granting some of us our first stirrings of true empathy), and many, many chickens. There was also a guest appearance each episode by a famous human comedian, actor or musician. It could be anyone from Julie Andrews to Dudley Moore, as long as they could be trusted to play it straight and believe in their co-stars. It was all held together, if only just, by earnest, frazzled host and stage manager Kermit the Frog and his assistant, Scooter, despite constant heckling from the exquisitely cantankerous Statler and Waldorf looking down on the show, in every sense, from their box seats.

Australian children’s cartoon series about a family of blue heelers has yet to announce a new season

Australian-made animated series Bluey was the most streamed show in the US for the second year in a row, topping Nielsen’s annual year-end streaming charts for 2025.

US viewers watched 45.2bn minutes of the show on Disney+ according to Nielsen, down from 55.62bn in 2024, but still impressive given the show comprises 154 episodes – most of them less than 10 minutes’ long.

Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler’s heartwarming kids’ tales have become a cosy festive fixture on the BBC. Ahead of this year’s offering of The Scarecrows’ Wedding, we ask: which is the all-time Christmas cracker?

They’re now as much a part of the Christmas Day schedules as the monarch’s boring speech and a bafflingly popular Mrs Brown’s Boys special. Animated adaptations of the picture books by author Julia Donaldson and illustrator Axel Scheffler have become a feelgood seasonal institution.

It’s a cosy tradition that began with The Gruffalo in 2009 and has since become a festive fixture, taking pride of place on BBC One on Christmas afternoon. The voice casts are always impressively A-list, with Rob Brydon the only constant. This year’s kid-calmer is The Scarecrows’ Wedding, making it 13 entries in the canon and counting. But which is the all-time Christmas cracker? We’ve ranked them all from worst to best …

The broadcaster becomes president of Humanists UK in the new year. She talks about juggling TV work with single motherhood, losing her husband, and why she’d rather have specialised in acting

Janet Ellis is exactly as you might remember her from her days as a Blue Peter presenter: elfin movements, lively eyes, a penetrating aspect that could smell bullshit a mile away but would never be so discourteous as to mention it. She lives in London with her 21-year-old grandson and a gentle Italian spinone called Angela, who follows her everywhere. The dog is a surprise, being the size of a horse. It adds an element of slightly fairytale jeopardy to the scene, as you watch them pad down the stairs and think, “What happens the day Angela decides to go a bit faster?”

Ellis, 70, will become the next president of Humanists UK at the start of 2026, taking over from the geneticist and broadcaster Adam Rutherford. She supports the group’s campaigns – for secular schools and assisted dying laws. More broadly, she says she has “always been struck” by its “steady calmness” – a port of irreligious decency in stormy times. “Since I was a child, I’ve found the idea of prioritising what came next over this bit a really weird concept. Everything starts and finishes in our minds.”