Who doesn’t love the Late Late Toy Show? Every year it gives us all a nostalgic opportunity to see the world through the eyes of a child… the venal, covetous eyes of a child.

Sorry.

I mean, of course the wonder-filled, innocent eyes of a child who understandably enjoys nice things. Anyway, across the country adults, drunk with both nostalgia and nostalgia juice (wine) reminisce about Toy Shows past while children make itemised, well-costed lists.

This year’s show begins with a dementedly frenetic, child-infested dance-number from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang during which Ryan appears as a Jack-in-the-box and a tweedy inventor and lankily dances himself to breathlessness. Having a bit of competition from TV3’s Toy Show is good for him.

“F*** you Brian McFadden,” he might as well say as he comes to rest.

The real stars are the kids. It’s obligatory to say this - you have to sign a waiver to that effect before reviewing the Toy Show, but it’s true. There are embitteringly-talented children - classical pianists, Kung-Fu experts and opera singers.

There are kids who get endearingly confused and kids who are unfazed, like ennui-afflicted F. Scott Fitzgerald characters. And there are kids whose minds get blown. Three boys play the music of the Script, then Danny from the Script appears and invites them to hang out.

Their concept of reality in tatters, they must now return to their normal lives, or worse, join the Script. Another girl gets to sing karaoke with Ed Sheeran.

It’s sweet.

Toys have certainly moved on (I look at my hoop-and-stick resentfully). There are toys that transform into other toys and toys that mimic human emotions. An interactive Xeno monster weeps, presumably to impress on children how hard life can be. There’s a terrifying speaking doll called Cayla.

Nobody says ‘how do we turn Cayla off when she gains sentience and tries to take control of the internet?’ Though Ryan does say: “Can we get a nice shot of her dead eyes.”

History-obsessed child Sean makes a model of the Titanic, tells stories about the Lusitania and has read Shakespeare. Aoife comes out with her “favourite pet hen” Albertina. Then Ryan smashes eggs on his head. Then he throws eggs into the audience. What does this mean for the Irish egg industry?

Eerily costumed children enthusiastically sing more Chitty Chitty Bang Bang music and some sing songs from Frozen, because parents haven’t heard the songs from Frozen enough.

There’s the traditional procession of children on peddle-vehicles, looking for all the world like a post-war Soviet demonstration of child-power.

There’s pre-recorded footage of some sick toddlers who are let loose on the toy-filled studio with Ryan. And it’s lovely. They do a lot of jumping. Seriously, it’s lovely.

There’s the books bit, which is great, though probably listed as arts programming in the RTÉ budget. And there’s a competition to win a trip to Orlando. To win people have to decide which of the following is a traditional Christmas dinner: Swan, turkey or penguin.

Having been to the RTÉ canteen, I’m pretty sure it’s swan.

After the panic caused the year he threatened to forgo the jumper, Tubridy, whose actual skin resembles a tailored two-piece suit, now wears four hand-knitted Christmas jumpers per Toy Show. The audience, jumper-fetishists to a man, are pleased.

All in all, the Late Late Toy Show is great, because the kids are great and because Tubridy lets himself go in a way he doesn’t always do in regular Late Late Shows. Gay Byrne viewed all guests as children, so treated the Toy Show like he did any other Late Late Show.

Pat Kenny would regularly break the programme’s magical spell by screaming “Who are these midgets?!” (maybe not literally). Tubridy is the best Late Late Toy Show host. He should throw eggs at the audience in the regular shows and maybe get Ed Sheeran to play music with mind-blown little fans.