There are children who grow up to be adults. And there are children who, despite growing very tall and wearing corduroy jackets with leather elbow patches and having a mane of hair bearing an uncanny resemblance to that of Led Zeppelin frontman Robert Plant but with grey streaks, remain children.
Thank goodness. This phenomenon allows us to feed on stories such as James May and his new house. You might know of James. He’s the tall, somewhat posh oke who often hangs out with Jeremy Clarkson and Richard “Hamster” Hammond on the BBC’s Top Gear show, in which they drive very fast cars and make lots of very funny jokes. Well, Jeremy handles that side of things while The Hamster crashes cars and James stands around doing a very languid Stephen Fry impression while teaming a houndstooth blazer with that Robert Plant barnet.
All very entertaining. But it’s showhouse day so let’s have a butchers at the house that James has nearly finished building in a vineyard in Surrey, England…
Settle down, children. I know that this is terribly exciting for you. It’s Lego overload, isn’t it? But, and this is worrying me, where are the windows? Hang on. I think James has just found the window he forgot to put in…
You have to love the English. So much of delicious eccentricity. James is building Legoland because, as he puts it, “‘your imagination is always bigger than your stockpile [of Lego bricks] when you’re a kid”. And we’re fine with that, aren’t we, Hatpeople? Nothing wrong with being a big kid. That’s why I’m petitioning the municipality to close down the roads of Umdloti for a few months while I build the most humungous, most radastical Scalectrix set ever known to man. Or boy. That’s how we roll, James and I.
To be entirely honest, James is building his house – kitchen, toilet and all – out of plastic toy blocks for a new BBC show, Toy Stories, and you can read all about it right here.
I liked the comment from a concerned reader who worries that sitting on the Lego brick loo in James’s house might leave quite a lasting impression on his bum. It worries me, too. But not as much as the lack of windows.