Postman Pat: The Movie

Would you mind if Thomas The Tank Engine was turned into a carnival ride at the Virgin Play Park? The fate of Pat, every child's favourite postman, is even more humiliating in this feature length travesty of England's rural idyll.

There's nothing wrong with the animation, nor the star studded vocal assistance. What hurts deep in the milk pudding mush of memory is the plot. You cannot force a fantasy icon, like Pat, into the world of reality TV and expect its chemistry to create something relevant, or satirical. Someone might cry.

The dream of innocence, whisked into marshmallow chunks by the kindness of a cat loving postman in a red van, is replaced by Simon Cowell, looking like Piers Morgan, in a nightmare scenario of celebrity manipulation

On top of this outrage Pat's workplace is in the process of change. The privatised Post Office has appointed a new breed of regional controller, sleek, slick and dedicated to bottom line policies, involving the introduction of robotic Pats to improve the efficiency of the delivery service, eliminating the human touch.

Politics and kiddies' picture books don't go together. The clash of styles is painful to watch. Despicable Me would never be invited to Frozen's farewell banquet at the palace, as Susan Boyle would never share a stage with Metallica.

Sugar and salt? Chalk and cheese?

It doesn't work for Postman Prat.