11.3.98

Something gross in toytown

A new wave of tasteless American toys is on its way, warns Sinclair Mackay

IT IS a well established aesthetic fact that children are natural vulgarians. Given the choice between an impeccably tasteful, hand-crafted wooden toy and a lurid green plastic piece of tat, every tot in the world will opt for the latter.

Given America's national appetite for commerce, it is probably not surprising that its toy manufacturers have decided to profit from children's innate tastelessness.

The result is a crop of bizarre and revolting new toys, including Gus Gutz, a dopey-looking soft toy featuring a full range of internal organs that can be pulled out through his mouth; Cyclops, something similar, with a vast pop-out eyeball; a chemistry set with which children can make Micro Mucous and Sewer Maggots; and a book called Gross Grub, with recipes for dishes such as Cat Litter Casserole (containing rice and chunks of sausage).

Also popular are special sticking plasters adorned with unpleasantly lifelike illustrations of flies and arachnids.

If you find the mere idea of these items repugnant, watch out: Gus Gutz and his cronies are likely to be coming to Britain en masse later this year.

Worse still, there are signs that these peculiarly grim offerings will not be aimed only at child consumers.

"Some adults are shocked. But with Gus Gutz, I was actually trying to think of a toy that a grown-up lawyer might enjoy," says Larry Schwarz, creator of Gus and president of the Rumpus Corporation.

"You know, you get this cuddly toy, and then you can pull out its heart, lungs, liver, intestines. I was working as a lawyer when I thought it up; it's a great stress reliever."

These toys are likely to strike a chord not just with young barristers but also with many other British adults who were brought up in the Seventies. Back then, slime - a noxious, slithery substance in a small, green bucket - was any groovy child's must-have.

And Gus Gutz is not the only part of this American fad likely to attract adult devotees. Gross Grub is already selling well, according to its publishers, Random House, and a drink called Day Old Bath Water (a murky fruit juice mixture), which is even better spiked with vodka, is proving particularly popular with twentysomethings.

Although the macabre is the basis of their appeal, these new toys also claim to have an educational element.

"We provide literature on the biology of Gus Gutz's internal organs as well; it is not just gross for gross's sake," explains Schwarz.

The Wild Goose Company, which manufactures the mucous-making chemistry sets, also claims to have children's best interests at heart.

"We started out making kits for teachers in elementary school," says company spokesman Robert Drake. "We decided to use cartoons and humour to get science across. Then we just decided to go to retail. Yes, the kids are making mucous with polymer combinations - but it's real science; it is still polymeric chemistry ."

And, as ever, when America sneezes (with American children presumably examining the results), Britain catches a cold. The first symptoms are already there: Gus Gutz is proving something of a cult hit at its sole British stockist, Paul Smith, in Covent Garden.
"We have completely sold out," says a spokesman. "They are equally popular with children and adults."

Last year, we were invaded by Tamagotchi. Now, it can be only a matter of time before the virtual pets are abandoned in favour of spilling guts and slithering mucous.