Welcome to the garage, we've got fun and games

Occasionally (and by occasionally, I mean once every six years), I venture into the garage to do a ruthless clean out. It chiefly consists of old clothing items and schoolbooks from the early 90s, so there's not really much worth crying over, unless you're into tiny little onesies and poorly written acrostics.

However, there are a few knick knacks that surface for one last gasp that might catch your collective fancy, albeit not so much that they warrant their own individual posts. As such, their final sendoff comes in the form of a content dump loaded with (blurry) photos and (shitty) witticisms.

And what do you know; here they come now!

We open with a modern tragedy. This Etch A Sketch proclaims itself to be magic, but in actuality its only trick is that it is completely fucking broken. I struggled to even manage the tiny squiggly line on the left of the screen, which when combined with the dust and grime, resembles a face locked in a scream of agony.

I also found this shitty Ninja Turtles backpack. Not shitty in the sense of its quality, because it packs backs with the best of them, but because I think there is literal shit encrusted on Michaelangelo's nose. It has made him so mad, he's taking his fury out on a trapped and rather defenceless Rocksteady.

Do you really care that I have found the box for a Mighty Morphin Power Rangers crayon by numbers kit? If not, you may be more excited to know that...

I at least made the effort to colour in Rita Repulsa's collar. She looks drunk as fuck. I think the Power Rangers are dancing. I like all of these things.

Here is a dinosaur Halloween costume I wore one year. Unfortunately, it is now extinct, and I will resist the urge to force myself into it like I did with the Sonic the Hedgehog outfit. My nads still haven't forgiven me for that debacle, which is a shame since they so rarely talk to me in the first place.

A handsome collectors case for all of my Ninja Turtles toys, it would later become a collectors case for little more than filth and misery. I can't help but question the art on this one. This doesn't seem stealthy at all, the Turtles look more like they've been caught with their dicks out. Leonardo has recovered well, but Donny and Mikey are obviously struggling. Raphael, meanwhile, is simply fucked. Why would you have him at the front of your formation? He is probably going to die.

With Raphael most likely dead, we may have to make use of My Turtle Maker. The poses here are much more laid-back, I think they're throwing a surprise party and you just arrived. Leo got hammered too early and snapped his katana blade in half. Who will you choose as your fifth Turtle? Slash? Venus de Milo? Motherfucking Kirby?

So you've finished assembling your five Turtles. In the end, you decided to make the final one a sexy OC who wields a san-jie-gun because it's the most obscure ninja weapon you could think of. I was going to link a creepy piece of artwork here here, but Google Image search was too grim even for my standards.

Now, it's time to bring the action of the Batman®* movie to life! Or if you'd prefer, pour ranimer les aventures du film de Batman®* with no exclamation mark because apparently French people don't find the concept that exciting. My favourite scene was definitely the one where Batman lassoed the Joker out in the middle of the street, while Commissioner Gordon watched on eagerly.

The reverse of the box is also excellent. One child opines that the Joker®* is such a trouble-maker! That loveable scamp. The other observes how the Batmobile®* canopy lifts up so Batman®* can jump inside. I like to think that they are actually saying registered trademark apostrophe every time.

Most of the parts to my Batman playset are missing aside from some ancient dried up tubs of Play-Doh, and inexplicably, the Joker's avant garde vehicle. Shredder hitches a ride with intentions of causing mischief about Gotham, but soon discovers that it doesn't have a steering wheel.

"This is getting very monotonous!" he snarls, before sheepishly continuing on foot.

Why, it's none other than our old pal, Thomas the Tank Engine! He gives us a warm smile and offers a red string for us to enjoy at our leisure. We gamely tug at the string, keen to explore all of its wonders.

Oh no! We fucking killed Thomas!!

A strange liquid oozes from his carriage, and in his dying breaths, he begs for us to 'blow him'. That's just rude, pal.

This Ninja Turtles-related katana has clearly been very broken for a very long time. The handle is snapped right through, and at some point we just said fuck it and decided to patch it up with packaging tape.

Having worked on-off as a technician over the years, I can confirm that this is actually how 90% of repairs are done.

Oh shit Savage Garden in Paris?? Time is running out, the draw date is on August 27th, guys! If we don't win the big prize, hopefully we'll at least nab the consolation of 1 of 5 Savage Garden denim jackets. I may need a little bit of help identifying Savage Garden's first hit single, though, because everything they put out on that album was solid gold.

...Not even joking on that last bit, it was a fucking amazing album from start to finish.

Why do I still have the packaging for an off-brand Tamagotchi? Probably because its super fun, and claims to perform things I never actually saw it do. Did your Ganbare Ryuuta-kun ever spin plates, tip its hat to passersby, and complete its doctorate? Mine sure as hell didn't, but maybe I just had a dud one.

Hahaha this popup card is fun. I daresay it's even more fun than murdering Thomas. Tweet, tweet, tweet!

This Ninja Turtles placemat is actually pretty cool, and in surprisingly good condition, all things considered. I wish they used these alternate colour schemes more often, Donatello looks really cool in brown. The only thing I can't quite work out, however, is why...

The placemat cost thirty fucking dollars. What are you trying to pull with that shit, that is more than a fucking action figure, you maniacs. No wonder Toys R Us went under, we must have grown sick of them scalping us on the small stuff.

Last but not least is the coolest toy I found. I don't remember where or when I bought it, but it looks pretty scary. Unfortunately, it's a bit fragile, as I accidentally pulled one of the legs off when I tried to put it into the Joker's car. Trying to work out how to fix it as we speak, but I think a small bird flew off with the missing appendage. Real shame.

#0075: Pogs/Tazos/Dizks

I don't claim to be an educator of any sort, but I don't think I'm out of line when I make the assumption that teachers worldwide hate collectible toys with a passion. Because it's so fucking important for kids to gather as many as possible, and if anyone fucks with your collection, there will be hell to pay.

I remember when I was in year 7, and a bunch of year 10s looked through my Pokemon cards. When I came home that day, I realised that several were missing. My mom had sent over some of the new Jungle series cards that hadn't yet reached Australia; Jigglypuff, Meowth and the like, and those motherfuckers stole them. What a bunch of heinous ball sacks! They had no interest in the cards, they probably just wanted to sell them for a couple of bucks. I hope they've since died of botulism. Seriously, fuck those assholes.

It's no wonder the various collectible series are soon banned from the schoolyard. We feel slighted as kids, because we weren't doing any harm, and true enough, we weren't; it was those soulless little shitballs that ruined it for everyone. Fortunately, I didn't go through that kind of distress back in my early collecting days. Because back then, I didn't go to school in the shitty western suburbs of Melbourne. I had a most delightful time gathering Pogs. Then Tazos. Then Dizks. Then spores, moulds and fungus.

Oh, Pogs, you crazy little pieces of cardboard. They were veritable schoolyard currency twenty-some years ago, and I remember that no Pog was to be left behind. At a school event with various games and activities, one of the stands gave out Pogs as a prize. So long were the lines, they eventually had to implement a three-game limit. We were being told we'd had enough Pogs, man.

Here's the family. As you can see, I had a whole bunch of Lion King Pogs. The lion's share, if you will. One of my less proud moments was when someone threw away their Power Rangers Pog, and I frantically chased it down. Who in the flying fuck is Aisha? Who cares, she was a Pog - she was a GOD. And I know you're all super jealous of my slammers and my limited edition 'secret weapon' Pog. Although I'm fairly sure they just put the limited edition line on there for shits and giggles, and it held no actual bearing on the rarity of the Pog.

In case you're wondering, no, I never played the actual game of Pogs. Especially not for keepsies - are you crazy? They were far too important for such frivolity!! From my Nickelodeon Gak Pog to my magic 8-ball hatching from an egg Pog, from my Ren & Stimpy Pog to my piece of styrofoam Pog depicting some kind of robotic foot.

Nowadays, Pogs are a relic of a time long gone. Most kids would have no idea what you were talking about, and anyone brave enough to explore pogs.com.au are led to the disappointment that is the Perth Obstetrics Gynaecology Specialists. That's no fun. I want to study Pogs, not vaginas.

Much bigger in Australia was the Pog equivalent, Tazos. As you can see, I entered the game far too late, and didn't really garner much of a collection. I like to think I got the most important ones, though, representing Space Jam and the significance of Duff beer.

Eventually however, they grew wise to the morning viewing habits of kids around the country. What happened next would boost the sales of chip packets by some astronomical percent. Possibly over 9,000...!

Meet the Dragon Ball Z Dizks. These sons of bitches were (figuratively) huge, and kids bought snacks in bulk not for their daily intake of potato, but for the chance to increase their collection of Dizks. As you can see, they were separated into three categories: the red good guys, the black villains, and the yellow 'super characters'. Unveiling a mighty Super Saiyan Goku or Super Namek Piccolo was cause for celebration, as you triumphantly thrust that silly little yellow circle into the air. You were cooler than cool! You were the hip happenin' thing, baby. Do a boogaloo shuffle!

In case you were wondering, yes, I collected all 40 of them. It has led to a better life for me and my children. But sadly, even the most complete collection is waiting to be dwarfed. While we thought the yellow Dizks were top of the pops, we later discovered glorious Dizks with bright orange backgrounds. We knew these were irregular, and hence, more important. As you can see, I only had three. And beyond that, there were even rarer gold ones that I only once ever saw in person - walking through a forest in the rocky mountains one day. I tried to snap a photo, but alas, it was gone.

Later on, they introduced newer characters in fascinating new shapes, as well as branching on to other shitty animes like Beyblades, but the magic was gone. We had already invested enough time, energy and cholesterol into the fine art of Dizk collecting. In my youth, they told me that I had had enough Pogs. All those years later, I was able to tell the distant Pog relative... 'nah, bro - I've had enough of you.'