Come Outside: Why Wasn’t Auntie Mabel Stopped?

Originally published 2011 as "Come Outside" — updated April 2026

I’ve recently had the pleasure of rewatching a classic programme from my childhood: Come Outside, featuring Auntie Mabel and her dog, Pippin.

This post is just a bit of fun — I genuinely love the show.

Growing up, I remember it being wonderfully educational. We even watched episodes at primary school. Now William, at two‑and‑a‑half, absolutely loves it and will request specific episodes. But watching it again as an adult… it’s not quite how I remembered it. In fact, after sitting through far too many episodes, I’ve realised something:

Auntie Mabel is a menace.

Why hasn’t anyone stopped her?

For those unfamiliar with the show, here’s a quick summary:

Come Outside was a BBC educational series that ran from 1993 to 1997. Auntie Mabel (played by Lynda Baron) and her dog Pippin travelled around in a polka‑dot aeroplane to learn how things are made. Pippin was played by two dogs — one descended from the famous acting dog Benji — and the second even went on to star in the Bakers dog food adverts.

The concept was simple: something breaks, Auntie Mabel shouts “Pippin, it’s time to fly!”, and off they go on an adventure.

Sounds harmless, right?

Let me explain why I’m concerned.

Episode 1: A Rainy Day

Right, let’s start strong. It’s pouring down, the guttering breaks, and Auntie Mabel decides the best course of action is to climb a slippery ladder in the rain. Health and safety? I guess she's never heard of it. Pippin, being a loyal dog, follows her outside like, “Sure, let’s risk our lives together.”

She fixes the gutter, goes inside, sings Incy Wincy Spider… and only then realises Pippin is still outside, soaked and getting drenched. She remembers him because her newspaper is wet. Priorities. But fine — stressful day, we’ll let her off. Won’t we?

Episode 2: Clay

This one genuinely annoyed me. Her teapot breaks. Fair enough. She goes to the shop. They’re out of stock but can get one in an hour. An hour. A single hour. But no. Auntie Mabel cannot possibly wait sixty minutes like a normal human being. Instead she shouts, “Pippin, it’s time to fly!” and off they go — to the factory, to an independent maker, to a clay pit. Was that really necessary? All of this takes longer than the original hour. And she’s burning aviation fuel to replace a teapot. Thinking about this in 2026 terms, Greta Thunberg would combust.

Episode 3: Holes

She loses Pippin. Down a hole. That’s it. That’s the episode.

Episode 4: Buses

This one is wild. She leaves Pippin on a bus. Instead of going to the bus station like a normal person, she goes home, gets in her plane, and flies around looking for her, because obviously she has the eyesight of a peregrine falcon. Eventually the bus station calls her. Her response? “Oh, it’s fine — let her ride the bus back to my house.” Yes. Let the dog commute home alone. Perfectly reasonable.

Episode 5: Recycling

This episode makes me irrationally angry. She loses Pippin at the recycling centre… and goes home without her. Without. Her. Dog. Also — and this is the part that breaks my brain — she flies to the recycling plant. Twice. In an episode about reducing your carbon footprint. The irony is so loud it could power a wind turbine.

Episode 6: Brushes

She lets Pippin run wild in a factory, causing chaos.

Episode 7: Water

Pippin waits the entire episode for a drink while Auntie Mabel flushes toilets, runs baths, and drinks water herself. She even mocks Pippin for needing the loo. At this point, I’m convinced someone should have called the RSPCA.

Everyone knows her. Everyone calls her Auntie Mabel. Yet no one questions her behaviour. What does she have over this community?

Episode 8: Letters

She loses Pippin’s bag at a friend’s house. Instead of flying (which would be on‑brand), she hijacks the entire postal system — van, sorting office, mail train — just to retrieve it. Then she abuses the postal service for the return journey.

Pointless. Completely pointless.

In Conclusion

Auntie Mabel needs stopping. Poor Pippin. Someone call… well, anyone.

2026 Reflection 

Revisiting this post in April 2026 makes me laugh in a way that only early‑parenthood exhaustion can. Back then, I was deep in the trenches of toddler TV, watching the same episodes on repeat and slowly losing my grip on what was educational and what was just… chaos. I had the time and the energy to obsess over Auntie Mabel’s questionable life choices, Pippin’s welfare, and the environmental hypocrisy of flying a polka‑dot plane to a recycling centre.

What strikes me now is how freely and open I was in a way where I was just having fun, not caring, and writing whatever I wanted — no filter, no boundaries, just pure “young dad losing his mind at children’s television” energy. There is a big gap in this blogs timeline. I went from family, to Christian reflections, then my life changed, I had my nervous breakdown and mental health issues, and slowly built back up. This shows I was more me again.

Reading this again, I can see the younger me clearly — tired, amused, slightly unhinged from too much children’s TV, and trying to make sense of the world through humour. It’s a snapshot of a version of me who was learning how to be a dad, how to cope, and how to laugh at the absurdity of it all. And honestly, this wasn’t the only children’s programme I tore apart. My In the Night Garden breakdown might actually be funnier. Posts like this remind me of a time when everything felt new, chaotic, and worth writing about — and they’re part of the long, messy, brilliant story of raising my boys.

If you want to see how these early parenting moments grew into years of stories, you can explore more in the Family & Parenting section.

[Image 2. Aunt Mabel, her iconic spotty plane, and the ever‑patient Pippin — the trio at the centre of all this chaos.]

Remembering Lynda Baron — the wonderful actress behind Aunt Mabel.