| Have you ever tried to extract a modern toy from | | | | packaging did for a career before they entered the |
| its packaging? I remember when you were lucky | | | | toy industry, and images of dark damp dungeons and |
| enough to be given a paper bag to carry your toy | | | | thumbscrews spring eerily to your mind. |
| home in, but nowadays it seems like the | | | | As the last length of wire drops happily out of the |
| manufacturers have made every possible effort to | | | | box, you reach for the toy, grasp it firmly, and pull it |
| ensure that the toys remain as surely locked into | | | | from the box. Yet you suspect something is wrong. |
| their cardboard prisons as possible, and you need a | | | | It seems to be magically refusing to leave the home |
| good level of skill in DIY or lock picking to get to the | | | | it has known for so long, and which looks likely to be |
| things. | | | | for a good deal longer. You look - the wires have all |
| Coupled with the incessant screaming of an anxious | | | | gone, there seems to be no more tape - what is |
| child who doesn't understand why you won't let him | | | | wrong with it? |
| have the toy you just gave him, it becomes a | | | | Your caveman instinct starts to kick in, and you begin |
| desperate race to free the plasticized creature that's | | | | tearing away at the cardboard, forgetting all thoughts |
| looking at you with a faint hint of a jeer in its eyes. | | | | of keeping the packaging intact in case it needs to |
| Your reputation as a parent is on the line; everything | | | | be returned. In a frenzy of desperation you tear |
| you've ever done, all that you have achieved and | | | | bigger and bigger chunks of cardboard from the |
| every word ever spoken softly as you laid them | | | | creature's cage as though in fear of it suffocating |
| gently in their bed, safe again at the end of the day, | | | | you shouldn't hurry. Your child begins bouncing in a |
| is nothing. This is the moment. Can you remove the | | | | curiously worrying way. You don't even notice the |
| toy from its packaging, and your time... starts now! | | | | cut on your hand as the plastic window of the box |
| To begin with, you confidently flip open the flaps at | | | | springs free and slices across your first two fingers. |
| each side, and all seems well. Then you realize that | | | | The thing's feet are actually screwed to the base! |
| the flaps don't actually achieve any further level of | | | | Can you believe it? Two screw heads, embedded |
| access, and they stick out like absurd wings, | | | | firmly into the cavity of its insoles are welding it to |
| achieving nothing more in their open state than that | | | | the remainder of the box. In blind panic you stagger |
| they seemed to when tucked in. You wonder why | | | | through to the kitchen and rustle through the drawer |
| the manufacturers bother, and a quiet murmur | | | | again, inflicting more cuts and scratches on your hand |
| escapes your lips as you comment on the point of | | | | as you casually brush aside the potato slicer and |
| them. Then you notice the tape strapped across the | | | | paring knife to find a screwdriver - but it's a flathead, |
| main flap, and a hurried search through the kitchen | | | | and the wrong size. You collapse back down on the |
| drawer reveals a pair of scissors, and you begin | | | | floor, all eyes in the room following your every |
| hacking away at the tape, almost sensing the relief | | | | move, the child now dancing from foot to foot |
| as you are about to achieve the ultimate escape. | | | | whining about wanting his toy, as though this is all |
| The main flap pops open, and like a magic trick of | | | | somehow your fault. You wedge the corner of the |
| origami in reverse, the packaging falls open. The child | | | | screwdriver into the screw head, and force it to turn, |
| cheers, the victory is yours. | | | | extracting further chunks of flesh from your hand as |
| Except that, despite the packaging being open, there | | | | it slips and slides its way round in small stages. |
| seems to be a distinct lack of toy falling gently into | | | | Eventually, somehow, the creature plops casually out |
| your lap. Metal wires are twisted around the toy's | | | | of its packaging, and is gleefully lifted high by the |
| legs. No problem - you start twisting away, smiling | | | | victorious child. You collapse back, near sobbing, blood |
| cheerily at your child as you wonder if their hopeful | | | | pouring from your hands, sweat dripping from your |
| eyes could get any bigger. You start twisting the | | | | brow as you survey the devastation around you. |
| wire the correct way, actually undoing it rather than | | | | Your child seems to be displeased though - and is |
| tightening it. You free its leg, then the other leg, then | | | | holding the toy towards you. What now? |
| its arm, its other arm, its waist, its neck. You wonder | | | | Of course, it needs batteries. It didn't come with |
| just exactly what the manufacturers of the | | | | batteries. You're up again. |