Living large: At home with the Pontipines

In the first of our special in-depth profiles of night gardenites, The Daily is exploring the wonderful world of the Pontipine family. This exclusive interview with the family will give readers a teeny tiny glimpse into their hopes, dreams, and fears.

Mr Pontipine meets us at the gate of the family home, a semi-detached pre-war townhouse. He is simply dressed in a red coat and large hat, and he twirls his moustache as he shows us around. The yard is perfect for traditional folk dancing displays and picnics, he says. 'We often eat out here. We like the children to have a lot of fresh air. Frankly, we encourage them to be outside as much as possible.'

Mr and Mrs Pontipine purchased the house when they were 'a couple of fancy free yuppies', Mrs Pontipine laughs. Now, many years and eight children later, the single fronted dwelling can hardly hold the family of ten, who have to sleep altogether in the same room. While this arrangement has 'kept the family at a reasonable size', Mr Pontipine admits that there have been down sides. 'Imagine eight newborn babies in one room', he says, shivering slightly at the memory.

Mr Pontipine shows us into his study where three children pop out suddenly from behind a bookshelf. After shooing them away, Mr Pontipine points us to his desk where a completed manuscript sits, awaiting his final approval before it will be sent to his publishers. The book, titled Living by the bell: Our life with eight teeny tiny children is 'a handbook for parents, grandparents, school teachers, basically anyone with a large number of children to contain', explains Mr Pontipine. The family are very excited about the upcoming publication, due in stores in time for Christmas, and Mrs Pontipine confides that she hopes the royalties will make their life a little easier by allowing them to expand their home. She has her eye on the adjoining townhouse, where another teeny tiny family currently resides. 'If we could buy the Wottingers out and knock through, we could double our living space,' she enthuses.

As to rumours that they are somehow related to the Wottinger family, Mrs Pontipine chuckles. 'We get that all the time. But no, they are no relation. Frankly, I can't see that many similarities between our families at all, apart from the eight children thing. No one asks if we are related to John and Kate Plus Eight'.

While living what some would see as an idealistic existance - walks in the garden, picnics, games of hide and seek, rides on the Ninky-Nonk and Pinky-Ponk - the family admit to one secret fear. 'Have you seen the size of the Tittifers?' asks Mr Pontipine, referring to the garden's famous all-bird barbershop group. 'We live in fear of one of the children being taken by one of those things.' This, he explains, is one reason why the family are so particular about heading to bed as soon as they hear the Tittifers start to sing each evening.

As we interview the family, the peace of the household is shaken by a sudden immense noise. Plates of delicious food dance across the table and pictures fall from the wall. 'It's those darn Tombliboos again,' shouts Mr Pontipine over the racket. Grabbing the family's trubliphone, he begins shouting into it. 'Tell them to turn it down!', yells Mrs Pontipine. 'I am telling them, Vera!' he replies. The children dance around with their hands over their ears. Everything is chaos. One gets the feeling that this scene has been played out many times in this little house.

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Carried Away: Pontipine bed joy ride terror

An innocent game of hide and seek turned to terror for eight Pontipine children in the night garden today. The children told The Daily exclusively that they were hiding in Upsy Daisy's bed when the bed began moving autonomously. The bed, a second generation Slumbertron 2000, was purchased by Upsy Daisy several years ago, and only responds to her commands. When invaded by the Pontipine children, explains Upsy Daisy, the bed just took off. 'Only I am allowed in my bed', she said. 'Mwah!' she added.

"Scared": Pontipine parents
'We were scared' says Mrs Pontipine, nervously stroking the binoculars around her neck. 'When the bed took off like that, we didn't know if we would see our children again'. Mr Pontipine believes the children could have been killed. 'That bed is completely out of control. Anything could have happened', he said.

The Pontipine children managed to jump from the bed and into the safety of the Pontipine family chimney. All say that they will think twice before playing hide and seek in the night garden again. The Pontipine family are seeking legal advice regarding the situation, and are considering suing Upsy Daisy for the 'pain and suffering' caused by the bed's reckless behaviour. 'Upsy Daisy needs to take responsibility for her bed's actions. She can't just kiss this away', said Mr Pontipine.

Upsy not to blame
Iggle Piggle, a frequent visitor to the night garden and well known associate of Upsy Daisy, claimed in an interview this evening that Ms Daisy was not to blame for her bed's behaviour. 'The bed has malfunctioned since Upsy purchased it. She has followed the manufacturer's instructions to the letter, but it keeps running away. Frankly, if the Pontipine children get in Upsy Daisy's bed, they do so at their own risk'.

Wottingers: No comment
The Wottingers, who instigated the hide and seek game with the Pontipines, had no comment to make about the Pontipine children's misadventure. They did, however, point out that the rules of hide and seek usually preclude the hiders from moving location while the seekers are looking. 'If they hadn't moved from the flower pot to the bed, maybe this wouldn't have happened', said one Wottinger. The failed game has not harmed relations between the Wottingers and their Pontipine neighbours, however. 'We're still on waving terms', said Mrs Wottinger.

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