What the People Want

I taut I taw a puddy-tat a-creepin' up on me,

I did, I taw a puddy-tat as plain as he could be.

By last week, a large part of the usually sane and solid British public had surrendered to the most unblushing piece of pseudo-nursery nonsense since 1939's Three Little Fishies. I Taut I Taw a Puddy-Tat, a baby-talk duet between a nasal, lisping little bird named Tweetie Pie and a gravel-voiced cat named Sylvester (both parts sung by Radio Actor Mel Blanc), had passed the quarter-million mark in record sales, stood second on the British hit parade.

Written by U.S. Songwriters Alan Livingston and Billy May, who got their idea from Warner Brothers' nondescript cartoon canary, Tweetie Pie, the song was originally recorded for children. Last fall, Capitol's British distributors asked for permission to release the American record in their own standard popular series. BBC Disc Jockey Sam Costa heard it, liked it so well he played it for five programs in a row. When he dropped it from his sixth program, it had become such a hit with his audience that he "was snowed under with hundreds of letters" of complaint.

Though record and sheet-music sales were still climbing, other complaints were being raised in Britain about Puddy-Tat last week. Mocked a columnist in "London's News Chronicle: "Dis is wot de gwown-ups sing, diddums." Disc Jockey Costa had received several mildly abusive letters from anti-puddy-tatters. Sample: "Take a firm grip on your puddy-tat record, face the exit, then bend down with your back to the record that gives you the greatest kick." Asked if he felt any guilt for his part in launching Britain on its current baby-talk rage, Costa looked hurt. "Not at all," he said. "I believe in giving the people what they want."

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