By Oliver Postgate & Peter Firmin (Egmont)
Noggin the King ISBN: 978-1- 4052-8152-2 (HB)
Noggin and the Whale ISBN: 978-1- 4052-8153-9 (HB)
Nogbad Comes Back ISBN: 978-1- 4052-8155-3 (HB)
Noggin and the Dragon ISBN: 978-1- 4052-8154-6 (HB)
Nogbad and the Elephants ISBN 978-1- 4052-8142-3 (HB)
Noggin and the Moon Mouse ISBN: 978-1- 4052-8141-6 (HB)
Noggin and the Storks ISBN: 978-1- 4052-8144-7 (HB)
Noggin and the Money ISBN: 978-1- 4052-8143-0 (HB)
Baby Boomers like me consider our childhoods – no matter how feted or feral, and personally privileged or dire and deprived – to have been a golden age in terms of liberty, agency and especially entertainment. That’s probably due in large part to being exposed to the gentle, life-affirming fantasy worlds of these guys.
Today celebrating a century of being splendid, Richard Oliver Postgate was a writer, puppeteer, animator and unrepentant itinerant storyteller who was born to an extremely prestigious, overachieving and drama-drenched family. He entered the world on April 12th 1925 in Hendon Middlesex and was eventually educated at Woodstock School, Woodhouse Secondary, the legendary Dartington Hall School/College and Kingston College of Art. He joined the Home Guard in 1942 but when at last called up, declared himself a Conscious Objector – just as his father had during the Great War. Court martialled and sentenced to Feltham Prison, Oliver eventually became a land-worker growing crops. After the war he worked for the Red Cross in Occupied Germany. On returning to Britain in 1948, he went to Drama School and drifted from job to job.
In 1957, whilst working as a stage manager for commercial TV company Associated Rediffusion, he observed the appalling quality of children’s programming up close and knew he could do better for the same paltry money offered. Writing Alexander the Mouse he convinced a Central School of Art tutor named Peter Firmin to draw the backgrounds for him. After moving on to short-lived deaf-viewer project The Journey of Master Ho, in 1959 the creators formalised their partnership as independent studio Smallfilms. The rest is history… and fantasy and wonder and charm and devastating nostalgia…
When not shaping the minds of 30-years-worth of kids, Postgate continued trying to save the world and refine its inhabitants. He was active in the CND movement, penning their pamphlet The Writing on the Sky and 1981 book Thinking it Through: The Plain Man’s Guide to the Bomb. In 1986, he created a 15-meter artwork for his latterday romantic partner Naomi Linnell’s book Illumination of the Life and Death of Thomas Beckett, repeating the exercise for The Triumphant Failure (about Christopher Columbus) and triptych A Canterbury Chronicle, which ended up in the city’s Royal Museum Art Gallery and Eliot College Campus…
Working when he pleased, Postgate narrated – in the calm, quietly compelling voice that became hardwired into the brains of millions – radio comedy and documentary shows, more books such as autobiography Seeing Things, and accompanied (arguably) his greatest creation Bagpuss – voted in 1999 the Most Popular Children’s Television Programme of All Time – as the plushly-stuffed purple & white cat accrued awards such as an honorary degree from the University of Kent at Canterbury.
Postgate died – hopefully properly and rightly well-contented – in Broadstairs Kent, on December 8th 2008.
Peter Arthur Firmin was born in Harwich on 11th December 1928. Following training at Colchester School of Art and National Service in the Royal Navy, he attended Central School of Art and Design in London from 1949 to 1952. A creative man of many talents and disciplines, he then worked as a stained-glass designer, jobbing illustrator and lecturer.
Whilst teaching at Central in 1957 he was targeted by audacious, up-and-coming children’s TV writer Oliver Postgate who believed (quite rightly) that clever individuals could produce high-quality kids’ viewing at reasonable cost.
After crafting backgrounds for Postgate’s Alexander the Mouse and The Journey of Master Ho, Firmin became equal partner in new venture Smallfilms, which grew in and out of a shed at the artist’s Canterbury home. The kindred spirits initially produced hand-drawn cartoons and eventually stop motion animation episodes for series including Ivor the Engine, Pingwings, The Saga of Noggin the Nog, Pogle’s Wood/The Pogles, Bagpuss, The Clangers and much more. Postgate wrote, voiced and filmed, whilst Firmin – roping in any family and friends in the immediate vicinity – drew, painted, built sets and made puppets. Their spouses were often dragooned too, if they showed useful talents like sewing or knitting…
During those early days Firmin seemed tireless. In addition to the Smallfilms job he also devised, designed and populated other kids shows such as The Musical Box and Smalltime. In 1962 with Ivan Owen he created a fox puppet for The Three Scampies. That creation soon had his own show and career as Basil Brush…
Throughout his life, Firmin continued his cartooning and illustration career. This included writing and/or illustrating a number of books including Basil Brush Goes Flying, The Winter Diary of a Country Rat, Nina’s Machines and Postgate’s Seeing Things – An Autobiography. Firmin also worked as a printmaker and engraver, designer and educator. In 1994 he was asked to create a British postage stamp and produced a magnificent offering featuring Noggin and the Ice Dragon.
Even at their most productive and overworked, Postgate & Firmin always ensured there was plenty of ancillary product such as Christmas Annuals, comic strips, spin-off books, games and puzzles for their devoted young fans. One of the most charming and enduring was a series of “Starting-to-Read” books released by Kaye & Ward between 1965 and 1973. Postgate & Firmin crafted all 8 books in a kid-friendly format gently sharing the further adventures of the Nicest Norseman of Them All…
In 2016 the octet of all ages, easy-going comedy dramas and gently humorous escapades were rereleased as superb hardcover editions perfect for tiny hands, but are now (at least thus far) out-of-print-&-hard-to-find. Starring the full TV cast and illustrated in a variety of duo-toned line-&-colour tomes, they display all the wit and subtle charm of the irrepressible Firmin whilst Postgate seductively and seditiously showed how much nicer things could be if we all tried a little harder to get on with each other.
This is the Saga of Noggin the Nog… Upon the death of his father, quiet, unassuming Noggin becomes king of the northland Viking tribe known as the Nogs. He rules with understanding and wisdom – generally thanks to his advisors: wife Nooka who hails from the far north (we’d call her an Inuit or Inuuk princess these days), bluff old codger Thor Nogson and wisdom-stuffed talking green cormorant Graculus. Despite many fantastic but necessary adventures, Noggin prefers a quiet home life with his people and his boisterous son Knut…
Noggin the King opens with bucolic pastoral scenes of the Nogs, with the good-hearted sovereign helping his people however he can. However, whilst happily repairing the roof of an old farmer, the ruler dislodges a bird’s nest. Bringing the nest and its occupants back to his castle, he cares for the fledglings and mother, pondering if he is also the King of birds in the Land of Nogs. If he is, then they are his subjects too and thus he is responsible for their safety and welfare. Riven with doubt, the King, with Nooka at his side, sets out on a short quest/ fact-finding mission to confirm his suspicions and is rewarded by the feathered kingdom with a great but grave new honour…
Noggin and the Whale features far more light-hearted aspects of kingship as the mild-mannered monarch celebrates his birthday in the usual manner: doling out gifts to all the children of his realm. This year they all get musical instruments, but when they hold an impromptu concert on a boat in the little walled harbour, the merriment is interrupted by a most insistent whale.
Every time the kids get going the cetacean surges up under the boat and eventually even placid Noggin loss his temper and orders the sea-beast to swim away. Instead it glides over to the open harbour gate and sulkily blocks the way, just as Noggish fishing boats are trying to moor up for the night. Nothing the townsfolk can do will shift the surly creature.
Suddenly Prince Knut has an idea. He realises why the whale has been acting so strangely and, after consulting with his father, commissions Royal Inventor Olaf the Lofty to create a unique present for the morose marine mammal…
Originally released in 1966, Noggin and the Dragon sees little Prince Knut and his chums pestering the royal couple to let them go on a dragon hunt. Noggin and Nooka are reluctant at first – Dragon Valley is no place for little boys and besides, the best thing to do with dragons is give them sweets and make friends – but eventually the proud parents capitulate to pester power. To ensure things go smoothly they insist doughty old warrior Thor Nogson goes with them, but as the unruly boys trek into a gathering storm, no one has any idea of the shocking surprise in store for them all…
From the same year, Nogbad Comes Back highlights the return from exile of Noggin’s wicked usurping uncle, just in time to try and spoil the King’s annual animal and vegetable show. Living up to his name, Nogbad the Bad tries to win the glittering jewel-encrusted cup for best flora and fauna by devious cheating and, when that fails, through simple shameful theft. Thankfully, Nooka is not as forgiving and kind as her husband and has been keeping a close eye on her outlaw in-law…
The next year saw two more tomes: one of which may have been a notional precursor to one of Smallfilms’ most successful franchise creations. Noggin and the Moon Mouse begins with Knut enacting an official ceremony at a water trough. Proceedings are utterly disrupted when a strange silver ball crashes down and a child-sized rodent-like creature emerges. Caught up in the excitement, the prince and his unruly pals give chase… until Queen Nooka takes charge. After admonishing the boys, she and Noggin befriend the strange visitor (who actually comes from another world) helping him gather odd household items he requires to return to the stars.
And yes, a few years later a peculiar band of armoured woolly beasties began communicating with us all in their universally comprehensible pennywhistle pipings in a little show called The Clangers…
Nogbad and the Elephants proves there are many perks to being royal. One is wonderful presents such as the gigantic gem-encrusted, long-nosed big-eared beast presented to Prince Knut by the King of Southland. Sadly, the wonderful creature is perpetually unhappy and falls under the sway of crafty Nogbad who lures it away to steal its jewelled coat. Realising it’s been hoodwinked, the piteous pachyderm takes restorative action in its own unique manner, compelling Knut to make his first grown-up decision…
The last brace of tales originated in 1973, beginning with hilariously anti-capitalist tract Noggin and the Money. Here Court Inventor Olaf the Lofty suffers a setback in his dream to modernise the nation. Nogs have been happily soldiering on using barter and trade as long as anyone can remember, so when the big thinker creates coins as currency, he thinks he’s made life easier for everybody. Thor Nogson soon disagrees after he’s despatched to acquire eggs for the royal breakfast and meets rather a lot of resistance to this new-fangled commerce nonsense…
Wrapping up the fun is Noggin and the Storks as the King sagely deals with a minor ecological crisis. Sooty Storks have nested on the chimneys of the town for decades, using the heat of human cooking fires to warm their eggs. This year, as the birds are particularly numerous, the populace are continually being smoked out of their own homes.
Despite his people angrily petitioning Noggin to let them chase the pests away, as king of birds as well as people, the smooth sovereign seeks another, more equitable solution. Cue Olaf the Lofty, who has an idea involving an old chalk quarry, a stand of hollow trees, masses of convoluted piping, steel sheets and tons of firewood…
Serenely bewitching, engaging and endlessly rewarding (both these books and their much-missed, multi-talented originators) the works of Postgate and Firmin shaped generations of children and parents. If you aren’t among them, do yourself a great favour and track down those DVD box sets, haunt the streaming services and buy these books and anything else with their names on it. You won’t regret it for an instant.
Text © The Estate of Oliver Postgate 1965-1973. Illustrations © Peter Firmin/The Estate of Peter Firmin 1965-1973.