#0116: Toby

A cursory glance through the INAKA archives would reveal that I have only successfully celebrated this blog's birthday a grand total of three times. I could trot out a myriad of excuses, were I so inclined, but the simple truth of the matter is that I don't particularly care enough to try.

So now in 2023, as I juggle workplace duties across multiple websites, combatting my rapidly diminishing health, and a daily celebration of Nintendo music that I have inexplicably deemed as important, I remind Toy Eulogy that it's lucky I even bothered at all.

You're twelve now, blog, old enough to start earning your keep and looking after your beleaguered father in his advanced years. Have a happy birthday, you little asshole, here's a Toby toy that I'll fling in your vague direction before grabbing myself another glass of scotch.

Thomas the Tank Engine was a staple of my formative years, and not coincidentally, the formative years of the blog itself. The great and powerful Montague was one of the first items I had listed in 2011, while the majority of the Thomas cast would later make an appearance two years later.

I had opined at the time that Toby's absence was curious, and in today's sojourn to the garage, I finally located his tattered ass, relegated to a box of unrelated curios. My only assumption is that the trains had a falling out at some point over the last three decades, forcing him to seek lonely refuge amongst a crowd of strangers.

But now, Toby has the last laugh. He's gonna put some dirt in your eye.

For one thing, other than notable paint chipping on his roof and minor wear and tear around his chassis, he is a damn side better off than most of his departed colleagues. His unusual square-shaped head — no doubt the cause of much antagonism back in his days in the cutthroat world of Sodor — actually protects the sticker that makes up his face quite well. While Thomas was a-peelin', Toby remains steadfast; I guess seven was his lucky number, after all.

Speaking of faces, one of the fucked up things about Toby is that his passenger coach, Henrietta, was one of the few characters who originally didn't have one at all. As unnerving as it is to have a sentient train grinning at you, a sentient train with no face at all is arguably much worse. Is it the fucking Mugen Train? Am I going to have to fight for my life against Enmu, Lower One of the Twelve Kizuki?

Also, why were the original trains male and the passenger cars female? What kind of fucked up patriarchy was Reverend Awdry building here?! Little does he know, in the eighty years since his vehicular brainchild first left the station, gender roles have made quite the shift.

Here, Toby discusses politics with a respectable young gentleman who calls himself Marth. The tram engine is impressed not only by the youth's worldly, measured viewpoint, but the fiery manner in which he conveys it.

But what is this? It was a ruse all along, and the amiable lad was in actual fact Lucina in disguise. The rattled locomotive's whole perspective has been changed, and if nothing else, he is now really very interested in the concept of cross-dressing. It's a start, Toby. It's a start!

That gag was probably not worth unboxing my $200 Figma for. Alas.

There is a certain melancholy that goes into passing this charming little toy off into its next stage of life. Without getting too bleak (though in fairness, the Railway Series was originally quite bleak in nature), when last I covered a Thomas toy on this blog in 2014, my spirits were much higher. By revisiting it some nine years later, I pine for that era of Anthony once again.

And besides that, if I can't track down Percy out there in the garage, this could be the final time I ever hold one of my Thomas toys in my hand; rendering Toby the veritable Last Train Home. Unless I suddenly decide to buy new ones, of course, which is both an unusual and yet not entirely unrealistic proposition.

In any event, I am thankful to Toby for giving me one more memento from my youth. The world of Sodor is all glitzy and CGI nowadays, scarcely resembling those handsome little trains who captured my fancy all those years ago. Perhaps if that's not his cup of tea, he might instead like to take residence on the island of Aranearum? I hear trains have all kinds of fun out there.

#0072: Thomas and Friends

My fiancé asked me a question recently: it was, plain and simply, why our spare room is being cluttered with a bag of old Thomas the Tank Engine toys. Though I tried to state the honest truth; that once I had blogged about them, they were going to go off to charity, she countered with an argument that proved most damning to my cause. These trains are dirty, worn, and in some cases, chewed on by my dog, or possibly a small infant in the garage I was unaware of.

I had nothing. So sadly, I sit here today, a veritable executioner about to give the last rites before sending my dear old friend Thomas off to the train graveyard. There, he will hopefully take solace in the fact that he can collect 3 hi-potions and an echo screen. ...Mildly obscure reference.

Once upon a time, I lavished upon you a tale about Duck the Great Western Engine. In all truth, Duck was actually perched right atop the pile whereupon his compatriots were resting, but somehow he came out of the whole thing a little bit less worse for wear. After a bit of a wash, he was good to go, as long as your standards weren't lofty. Today's guests weren't so lucky. Let's take a squiz at the worst of the lot...

Dear God... why do you hate my trains? The titular Thomas and perennial asshole Gordon are truly on the threshold of death, their once shining blue hulls now encrusted with filth, and years of abuse at the hands of a ruthless Jack Russell rendering their chassises warped and useless. Frankly, Gordon had it coming, but poor Thomas? He deserved better than this. He's one of my oldest, dearest friends, he should have aged with dignity. But alas, we can't have everything. I at least pray they proved tasty?

Elsewhere at the station, my pair of Henry twins are, by comparison, not too bad. Why I owned two Henrys is a mystery to us all (in the hopes of increasing productivity, perhaps), but more curiously, these Henrys, 3 years apart in their creation, feature two similar yet different shades of green. True Thomas historians may declare this to have been a by-product of some sort of 'green paint scandal' running rampant at the time, but to me, it's a riddle. I like the lighter shade, personally. It's more festive. I like my trains to be festive, after all.

Donald and Douglas, trains who appeared in the second season, therefore I don't give a shit about, are dirty, but otherwise in great nick. Strangely enough, the troublesome truck is in absolutely perfect condition, not even a little bit dusty, and James is a little bit banged around, but still has that million dollar smile, and

- AAAHHH WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT

I don't even know who this is, but he looks fucking evil. Familiar faces Percy and Toby are nowhere to be seen, and instead I'm left with this sinister prick. I think he was a diesel engine. I should probably Google it, but it's actually kind of fun just assigning him whatever identity I choose. So henceforth, his name is Howard Bachman, he's the local drug peddler, and his passengers are 300 illegal eastern European prostitutes. ...I must confess, I now like him even better than James (who only carries a modest 75).

I have to say, I'm a bit disappointed with how little care I've given my Thomas toys over the years. I mean, had they not stayed in the garage, they would have been fine, but I had about sixteen years to retrieve them, so the fault is mine and mine alone. Could Thomas live on in some fashion, long after his haggard body has been tossed away like (Superted narrator voice) a piece of rubbish?

Maybe the answer is yes. Maybe the answer is no. I'm not sure at this point, but hopefully... someday... we'll find a way.

Oh wait fuck that, the answer is a resounding YES.

A portrait: one through ten

As a special celebration of all things ten, I have seen fit to take one last group shot of the premiere ten toys of INAKA. I love that acronym, by the way. Makes this blog sound important and Japanese.

Does the picture need explanation? I assumed it to be pretty obvious, but I want my intentions to be made clear to all. After all, my dad walked in on me positioning and photographing this eclectic set of toys like a freaky man-child, so I don’t want this to be for naught.

At the rear, Oogie Boogie has established himself a throne of the equally creepy Fi-Do from which he does his bidding, but not his glowing. Alternatively, they have eked out a relationship and are going steady. It’s up to interpretation.

Just ahead of them, Wildwing and Lowly Worm are engaging in road rage. Though Lowly continues to beg that they ‘just be friends’, Wildwing has gone mad with hockey fury. Unfortunately for Wildwing however, he has left the goal completely unguarded, causing his Ducks to lose in a record 94-0 slaughter. As a result, Wildwing is transferred to Thailand’s national team, where he becomes an instant star.

You might have noticed Robin Hood fleeing with his coveted sack of gold, having discovered the Turtlecycle to be history’s first getaway vehicle. Tragically, Robin Hood does not know how to operate a motorbike, and furthermore, it lacks handlebars and a reversible trashcan sidecar. He will be missed.

Feeling emotionally distressed by the chaos around him, Scar tucks his tail between his legs and slinks away from the scene. He finds solace only in bubble baths and Enya’s Shepherd Moons album. Needless to say, he’s never the same again.

This is indeed a spectacular day for the hapless Ugly Laser Man, who has finally found a head he can point his gun at, after years of pointless shooting at toes. The luckless fellow in this position is the smug Snoopy, who chose the worst place to take a nap. If only he truly were a magician, he would have been able to get out of this mess. His only hope is that Lowly Worm chooses to park nearby, so that Snoopy may run Ugly Laser Man down in his apple car.

Duck has no fucking idea how he got this far away from the railroad tracks. But he’s a malicious son of a bitch, so he simply watches the bloody mayhem with glee. It only comes to a halt when Snoopy asks the horrifying question:

“Is that train fucking smiling?!”

#0008: Duck

Kids are notorious for becoming obsessive about the latest craze and surrounding themselves with it, at the expense of their parents’ funds. These days, it’s crap like Ben 10 and Bakugan, things that I wouldn’t understand if I was given a complete thesaurus on it, but they make perfect sense to kids.

I was no different. I was on the Pokémon and Dragon Ball Z bandwagons a decade ago, and they came and went just like all the others. The price of admission to an Anthony birthday in 1995 was Street Sharx. One year later, everyone was going nuts about Space Jam toys. Or maybe I was the only one. Point is; I had legions of those damn things.

If you delve earlier though, past Sonic the Hedgehog and the Ninja Turtles, you’ll find my simplest, earliest fascinations. It was basically things that roll when you push them. First off, it was generic cars. And who didn’t love cars as a kid? You’d give your stationary toys a shove, and they’d tumble over and crumple like wusses. But cars? Man, you push them around, and they roll with it. They were like us. They understood us.

Then, it came to branded products. Hot Wheels didn’t quite catch on with me for some reason, even though it would have been the natural progression. Instead, I aspired to collect the things I saw on the television; I wanted myself an assload of Thomas the Tank Engine goods.

Today, we shall premiere this beloved series, with help from my good friend, Duck the Great Western Engine.


Ahh, Thomas. Just hearing the opening tune makes me feel giddy and nostalgic.

For a kids show, it certainly had an odd way of teaching us morals. In every episode, one engine would be our protagonist, and one of two things happened; either he was an arrogant prick who would get taught a lesson, or he was being picked on by other trains and had to show them who’s boss.

And seriously, there was very little in the way of character consistency. It didn’t matter who it was, every train was a dick at one point. Even the titular character was known to tease that little tosser Percy every now and then.

So it certainly didn’t instill any feelings of trust amongst our peers. Through avid watching of Thomas, we learnt to fend for ourselves, to pull our heads in or else face the wrath of God, and that trains are mean fucks.

Who is this Duck, then? I remember the episode when he premiered, one of the other trains (typically) made fun of him for being called Duck. Apparently his real name is actually Montague, and he’s called Duck because he… waddles. I don’t know. I don’t know why being called Duck because you act like a duck is any nicer than actually being named Duck, but if that’s what Duck wants then that’s what Duck gets.

(Eight instances of ‘duck’ in that last paragraph. I tried to slip that many in my Turtlecycle review as well, but it didn’t quite pan out)

Duck featured the unfortunate fate of being a later addition to the series (albeit the second season, but later all the same). Kids had already chosen all of their favourites, and about 95% of us had based our favourites on our most beloved colour. I was a James kid, because he was red and red was awesome.

In Duck’s case, he was a pompous little train of green. Oops! Kids had already hitched their wagons on Henry or Percy, and it’s not like Duck was much more endearing than either of those two.

He was an outsider. A misfit. A dog of the house of Montague!

Had it not been for my obsessive collecting tendencies back in the day, I doubt I would have acquired Duck for any merits of his own. I don’t remember him getting any playtime, and even if he did, he would have been getting rescued by James. James would have also had all of the superpowers, the witty one-liners and sex appeal. I projected everything I wished to be on that train, by god.


Forgive the nonconformist’s dirty face; he was a garage acquisition after all. The very first Thomas toys had stickers as faces instead of being modeled into the toy, and they would inevitably peel away after years of play and bath time fun, revealing the horrific truth that, under the façade of a grinning mug, they were indeed mere trains.

In Duck’s case, he was a fancy-schmancy edition with a real live face (well, not real real, of course. That’d be fucking creepy), and as such, other than some faded paint in places, a host of chipped flesh and filth ingrained within his being, he’s fared better than most.

I never understood what ‘GWR’ meant as a child. A quick squiz at Wikipedia reveals it as being an acronym for ‘Great Western Railway’, and in a few brief moments I have solved a mystery that plagued me for years of my youth. It was almost as infuriating as how Knuckles’ name was abbreviated to ‘K.T.E.’ in early Sonic games. Made him sound like a goddamn robot.


I’m sure that that very first episode I mentioned would have told us the origins of GWR, but I was a dumb kid who was probably waiting for something funny to happen, or for James to do something cool, or for Ringo Starr to say ‘toot toot’. Clearly my attention span wasn’t at the level required for a sophisticated program about trains.

There isn’t really much more to be said here, because we all know Thomas. He’s been done before. It’s not like I can form a lore about him, and my fanfic would be very blasé and uneventful (and likely jam-packed with James action).

So instead, let’s ponder on something I never quite fathomed. Why were the trains always looking… somewhere to the side? Were they manufactured with the intention of sitting next to one another, smirking a creepy, knowing smile at each other? Were you indeed supposed to navigate them in that direction, thereby condemning them to an eternity of moving in circles?


I’m looking at Duck and looking at him hard, but he’s not telling me anything. All I know is I feel unsafe about the concept of getting into a train that refuses to watch where he’s going. …But really, would I board a talking, self-conscious train who’s often up to mischief and occasionally crashing into things? I suppose not.

You know what else I’ve only noticed from taking these photos? Those faces are damned scary. How were we not terrified by these trains as kids? The way they’d smile, and their eyes would dart around suspiciously? It’s quite eerie. It’s shit like that that got Mulligrubs canceled.

Unfortunately for Thomas the Tank Engine toys, because of their necessary length, they were smaller than our other usual toys. I always hated height inconsistency, particularly when people were larger than passenger vehicles. If this were Zoolander, I would slam the display to the floor in fury.



“Come on, you lot!” whistled Duck cheekily, roaring into the station hours ahead of time. If the Fat Controller found out about this, he would be very cross.

“Come aboard, come aboard!” shouted Duck to the passengers at the station, “We’ve got a long way to go yet.”

“How am I supposed to get on this train?” pondered Dracula Don aloud, shrugging in dismay, “I paid ninety quid for this ticket. Fuck that shit.”