Tag Archives: Barbie

One’s a Barbie Girl

A limited-edition Barbie doll of the Queen has been created for her Platinum Jubilee…


It was Happy Hour in the Pink Parka.

A group of younger Barbies were gathered on stools at the bar. Their Kens stood at far end of the room, a collection of Stepford boyfriends talking about golf handicaps.

The girls had arranged to meet – had got dolled-up to do so, in fact – to discuss the news story of the day.

“She has a tiara,” said Yoga Barbie, who had only one position, the Downward Dog, “and the Crown Jewels.”

“She has actual palaces,” said Bingewatch Barbie, who came with her own sofa, remote and giant bag of Quavers. “Nobody is going to want a Malibu Beach House if you can get Windsor Castle, complete with moat.”

“And she comes with pets,” said Instagram Barbie, taking a picture of the Quavers and uploading it. “She has corgis. They’re really cute.”

“They aren’t, they look like fudge-coloured Lego,” said Wheels, a Volkswagen Polo. This was Driverless Car Barbie – you didn’t get an actual doll, just a toy car.

They carried on with this light-hearted bitching, enjoying themselves, though every now and then they cast anxious glances at the one member of their of their group who hadn’t yet spoken.

Princess Barbie just sat, drinking morosely, staring into nothing.

“You ok, Babe?” asked Instagram Barbie.

A tear ran down Princess Barbie’s cheek, to the horror of the others.

“Don’t worry about her,” said Yoga Barbie, offering her a tissue. “People will still love you.”

Princess Barbie blew her nose, surprisingly loudly for someone with no discernible nostrils. Then she smiled weakly.

“You’re probably right,” she said, “and I know I shouldn’t mind. It’s just, I’ve always been the most popular-”

Bingewatch Barbie raised one non-existent eyebrow.

“Well, I have,” said Princess Barbie. “There’s no point in denying it. Young girls may say they prefer the career Barbies, and the sporty ones, but it’s me they really love, really want to be. I guess I just always thought of myself as the untitled queen. And now we have a real one.”

“Oh, stop moaning,” said a voice from behind the bar.

Princess Barbie started, spilling pink gin onto the counter. Behind that counter stood another Barbie. She wore a T-shirt with the name of the bar on it, and a tired expression. A wisp of hair had come loose from her bun and draped down one cheek. She had a tea-towel over her shoulder.

“Sorry,” said Princess Barbie, dabbing at the drink with her snot-soaked tissue. “I didn’t notice you there.”

“Well, I am here,” said Barmaid Barbie, snatching the tissue away and using the tea-towel instead. “And I have an opinion too, Princess, even if you have a better life than me.”

“I don’t have a better -”

“You own your own unicorn,” said Barmaid Barbie.

“True, but-”

“But nothing. Try walking a mile in my shoes, behind this counter. I can tell you it’s not easy, since I have the same ridiculous foot angle as you, and have to do it in high heels. You do think you are better than me, and most other Barbies. Why isn’t Cleaner Barbie one of your little gang, or Waitress Barbie? There are dozens of us that no-one cares about. Has anyone ever bought their daughter a Tesco Checkout Barbie, even after they were among the real heroes of the pandemic? I don’t think so. And now someone is more important than you. Well, welcome to my world.”

Throughout this speech Bingewatch Barbie had sat cross-legged on her sofa, staring entranced at the barmaid, spooning snacks into her mouth. Now she turned and grinned at Princess Barbie.

“Well, that’s put you back in your box,” she said.







Weekly Photo Challenge: Curves

Another of Tinman’s camera-free attempts at the WordPress Photo Challenge….


The Ambassador’s Ball was in full swing.

Men in dress-suits looked like penguins, women in ball-gowns looked like wedding-cakes, Ferraro Rocher in pyramids looked like piles of golden sheep-poo.

And in her own dress, almost princess-like in its beauty, Secret Agent Barbie fitted in perfectly.

She always did. No matter where the mission was – an après-ski, a gymkhana, a Hells Angels rally, Barbie had an outfit for the occasion.

Double-Oh-Seven may have had his Walther PPK, but Agent Thirty-Four-Double-D was unrivalled as a mistress of disguise.

Now she slipped un-noticed from the ballroom and into the small billiard-room (another type of ball room, I suppose) where she was to met her contact.

She had hoped it wouldn’t be him, but it was.

“Hello, Curves,” said Action Man.

That was what all the other agents called him. He was the archetypal alpha-male agent – a tough, wise-cracking womaniser. Barbie was his total opposite (especially about the womanising, much to the disappointment of Secret Agent Sindy and a generation of boys who’d have played much more enthusiastically with their sister’s dolls).

She always called him by his real name, Ken, just to annoy him. She tried to hate him, but it was hard not to be drawn to his perfect hair and his piercing blue eyes. Even now, though she tried not to, she found herself gazing longingly at his six-pack.

He gave her one.

She took the beer that he had offered her (I can’t help what you were thinking), sat down on the sofa and casually crossed her legs, or at least tried to.

“Our mission, Curves -” he began.

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that, Ken,” she said.

“It’s just that you have such an amazing figure,” he said, leering openly at her. “Are those boobs real?”

“As real as the rest of me,” Barbie assured him.

“Wow,” he said. “Well, anyway, our mission is to go to Russia and steal the plans for Squirlsh.”

“What’s that? Some sort of poison?” asked Barbie.

“No, it’s some sort of fruit drink,” said Ken. “The Russians plan to flood the market with it, This would severely damage the sales of Robinson’s Barley Water, and since the end of the Cold War MI5 will take work from anyone.”

Two days later, having been shot at, car-chased and had raspberries blown at them (through a blow-pipe, the fruit-drink market is highly competitive), they were in the Squirlsh laboratory in Moscow. While Barbie, in her Lab-coat outfit, fought off her Russian counterpart, the evil Babushka (whose disguises weren’t in the same league as Barbie’s, since when she whipped off her mask she had exactly the same face underneath), Ken fiddled with the machines until they began to smoulder and spark, and a voice started intoning “T-minus twenty seconds, and counting.”

Barbie and Ken escaped just before the whole lab exploded, and an hour later sat in her hotel suite grinning at one another. The whole adventure had been a bonding experience for them, meaning that they both felt like James Bond.

“I suppose we have to get off with each other now,” said Barbie.

“Really?” said Ken.

“It’s obligatory at the end of a mission,” said Barbie. “It’s in the handbook.”

She started to walk towards the bedroom. “I’m just going to slip in something more comfortable,” she said. At the door she turned and looked at him.

“Come on, Action Man,” she said. “It’s time you met Catwoman Barbie.”

Life In Plastic, It’s Fantastic

Mattel are bringing out a new range of Barbies in time for the Christmas market.

  • Athlone Barbie: comes with a rainmac and a set of sandbags. You put Barbie, in her box, in the bath, pile the sandbags around and then turn on the water. You then wait to see how long it takes her to be flooded out. As an optional extra you can buy a Brian Cowen doll, who stands in his wellies at the side of the bath for a few minutes, and then fecks off before he gets wet.
  • Italian Barbie: they come in a set of three, who all end up spending the night in Silvio Berlusconi’s house.
  • Negative Equity Barbie: she cost you €39.99, but is now worth only €15.25, so you can’t sell her, or trade her in. Many people who own this model simply post her back through the door of the toy-shop, and then emigrate.
  • Madonna Barbie: buy this model and a small African Barbie will be delivered to your house every two years.
  • Cosmetic Surgery Barbie: has ridiculously upright plastic boobs. Oh sorry, that’s all Barbies.
  • Garmin Barbie: comes with a built-in Sat-Nav, so she can tell you where to go and what to do. Parents are recommended to buy this model for their young sons, to give them an idea of what married life is like (note to Mrs Tin – this is a JOKE).
  • The Tiger Barbie Box-set: a set of ten Barbies, in a variety of outfits from waitress to poledancer. Also includes Elin Woods Barbie, who comes with her own three-iron. Hang on to her, because she’ll shortly be worth an awful lot of money.
  • Dorian Gray Barbie: has a face that never ages, but in her attic she has a portrait with a face that, well, never ages.