Granda Kev

SUPERTATO sounded like a bag of stale crisps or another takeaway selling tasteless grub until my grandson opened my eyes to a brave new world.

Meet a wholesome figure in a black mask and belt with red cape fighting selflessly to make life better for everybody. That’s Supertato, not my grandkid, although I do hope Little L grows up to be a model citizen caring for others, liking football and drinking real ale.

The world’s first potato superhero would have been off my radar if I hadn’t been babysitting.

After all, adults watching CBeebies all alone is, well, a bit creepy.

My strict orders from his departing mam and dad were 20 minutes’ beddy time telly and no more.

Paw Patrol was banned in a shout before the front door slammed shut, decreed too rowdy for the late hour – 7pm.

But every crisis is an opportunity and magnificent Supertato stepped boldly into the breach, a gentler if even more engaging character.

The cartoon is a vegetarian dream: heroic tatty with Carrot and Broccoli sidekicks playing Robins to his Batman as he battles Evil Pea in place of Joker, Penguin, Catwoman or Mr Freeze.

I absolutely adored it. Adam West in his heyday couldn’t lay a glove on indefatigable Supertato. Spoiler alert: in my episode, sorry our episode – Little L also watched – our hero very cunningly recaptured a castle lost to Evil Pea.

Kids’ TV today is much improved from the days when my kids were young and most definitely far better than when I was a child.

Mr Benn and Trumpton passed muster but The Magic Roundabout was a trade description offence, nothing remotely magical about Dougal the dog turning in circles and that Zebedee should’ve stayed in its box. Now kids are spoiled for choice with more children’s channels than we had children’s programmes.

Yet forget the rest, Supertato is best. A considered judgment from watching a single episode, of course.

My new spuddy icon ticks the box by appealing to the young and parents and to carers and grandies.

I’m eagerly looking forward to another Saturday evening over at my grandkids’ house, not drinking, to watch Superato mash the oppo.

OK, I should be reading and singing to them or constructing a scaled model of the Taj Mahal from dry wholemeal glutenfree spaghetti.

Those activities can wait for rainy afternoons.

Supertato is the new king of bedtime.