Does anyone here remember Muscle Men? Not actual muscle men, they’re still a thing, but those little pink rubber figures from the 80s that were about two inches tall. Remember them? I can still smell them, that rubbery waft, and I can still almost feel them, that slight give in an otherwise solid rubber skin.
I distinctly remember the moment they turned up in my life. I was in my pyjamas at the top of the stairs, watching people come into the house for a party. I had to go to bed and was throwing a bit of a wobbler about it. I was a child just in case that isn’t clear. I might still be in my pyjamas now but I can go to bed when I like!
Anyway, one of the people coming into the house doesn’t disappear below but comes upstairs bearing gifts. I honestly can’t remember who they were but I remember what they brought: a strange tiny dustbin with see-through sides containing a load of little rubber men. Muscle Men, the label says.
Me and my brother both get one – he’s upstairs tantruming with me – and suddenly we’re all smiles. We thank the guest, the best guest my parents ever invited over, and run into the bedroom to fight over what we got. What these things?! We tip them on the floor to see and they’re incredible. They look like wrestlers. They’ve got big bulging chests and biceps like loaves of bread, and some have helmets and outlandish costumes on. But they get way weirder than that. Some have six arms! One has got what looks like a pasta machine for a stomach, and another another is just a big hand. Hey everybody, give him a big hand! Sorry it’s just that I wasn’t this razor-sharp when I was a kid so I’m enjoying myself now.
But as engrossing as these Muscle Men are to look at, they don’t actually do anything. Their arms don’t move, their legs don’t move, they aren’t “articulated” as they say in toy collecting circles, and they’re all one homogeneous colour you can’t paint. They’re just there, lying on my threadbare carpet because it’s too hard to stand them up.