Bogies, Brains And Breakfast

The boy looks like a Rugrat. He has that twisty grin, especially when he's doing something yukky, like picking his nose and eating it.

This is the story of a bogie addict.

The narrative voice, probably Mum, says in a starched voice, "If you keep on picking your nose, your brains will fall out."

The claymation boy has a watercolour dream, in which his brain pops out of his nose into his hand and he tries to stuff it back up again.

Julia McLean's film is delightfully imaginative, aided by Thomas Scott's excellent score.

The simplicity of the boy's life perfectly matches his craving for nasal products.

Mum says, "No. no, no!"

His face goes I'll-never-do-it-again and, for a moment, you sense her sigh of relief, as if he has understood that the words "habit" and "disgusting" can share a sentence. Secretly, she thinks, "He'll be good now," because SHE TOLD HIM.

When she leaves, he sticks his finger up his nose and it gets stuck.