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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
Entertainment
Julia Raeside

Mr Bloom, the sex god of CBeebies

Mr Bloom's Nursery
'He can bed me down for the night anytime' … Mr Bloom has become an object of desire. Photograph: Neil Sherwood/BBC

Mothers on an internet discussion board have this week been declaring their bodily yearning for Mr Bloom from the CBeebies gardening show Mr Bloom's Nursery. "He can bed me down for the night anytime," said one. "How many of you ladies would be willing to cuddle his courgette?" enthused another. This is a show aimed at toddlers and yet something about the wholesome, ecologically sound Mr Bloom (actor Ben Faulks) turns these women to yielding, fertile compost in his presence.

And he's not the only CBeebies performer with a fanclub of horny housewives. There's clearly something about the asexual, incessantly perky children's entertainer that pops the cork of a particularly niche viewer. CBeebies' omnipresent cash-cow Justin Fletcher (or Mr Tumble as he's sometimes known) is perhaps the most unlikely of these. An amiable collision of Keith Chegwin and Billy Bunter, he has attracted similarly ardent praise from internet posters. "I find Justin quite cute, I have a thing for chubby men!!" was posted on a thread entitled Pervy thoughts about Mr Tumble. A whole thread!

And the chubby theme continues. One Guardian columnist who shall remain nameless has confessed to me her involuntary lust for Daddy Pig from the cartoon Peppa Pig, which is clearly taking things too far. Moments later, several people tweeted in agreement. Something about his deep voice, apparently.

A further Twitter survey also threw up libidinous endorsements for Chris Howard from The Green Balloon Club (russet love-god/nature boy), Big Cook from Big Cook, Little Cook (not Little Cook, they have their standards), Sportacus from Lazytown (terrifying, ink-haired fitness Nazi) and Mr Maker (be-quiffed craft wrangler – good with his hands).

Are we just bored and looking for excitement during the long, waking hours of toddler-minding? Did our own mothers suffer waves of lust for Brian Cant or Big Ted? This uneasy mix of childhood wholesomeness and unbridled horn must end and end now.

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