There are 26 shopping days left to Christmas. So they tell us, anyway; the figure is actually nonsense. Since when was Wednesday a shopping day? If you don't have a job to go to on weekdays, chances are you don't get to do a lot of luxury shopping either.

Sensible people know that there are in fact four shopping days left to Christmas: this Saturday, and the three Saturdays after that. But if Friends Of The Earth have their way, you can cut those dates by a quarter.

They have declared this Saturday "No Shop Day". FOE recommends that you give the kids a break, by releasing them from the hell of playing in toy departments or visiting Santa's grotto - treating them instead to a day of debates about the evils of consumerism. This policy is clearly inspired by The Modern Parents from Viz; and readers, it's aimed at you.

FOE is also firing satirical darts at the most popular children's toys on the market. They are launching a range of spoof toys, including the Fibby ("Talks Rubbish, Looks Rubbish, Becomes Rubbish!") and My Little Phoney ("Guaranteed to Disappoint!"). Ebenezer Scrooge would be proud.

Their campaign is a response to the notorious `pester power'. Advertisers have discovered through research that the best way to sell toys is to persuade children to `pester' their parents for them. As always, it takes a lot of research to discover the blindingly obvious.

Friends Of The Earth point out that advertising targeted at children is banned in Sweden; yes, merry old Sweden, where the suicide rate is famously high. Maybe we could also adopt 24-hour darkness in winter and compulsory fine blond moustaches for all men, in order to ensure a jolly Scandinavian Christmas for everybody.

The fact is, modern toys are fantastic and children are quite right to pester their parents for them. Why should kids be denied the joys of modern culture, just because they don't control their own purse-strings? Banning toymakers from letting children know what's available is a ridiculous suggestion. You might just as well say that grown-ups should all ride around on a pony and trap: don't tell them that the motor-car has been developed, it'll only make them want one.

This year, the yo-yo is trendy again. This has nothing to do with advertising: the yo-yo, appropriately if you think about it, comes regularly in and out of fashion. This time round you can buy yo-yos with clutches and braking systems so it's easier to do tricks, and yo-yos that flash lights powered by kinetic energy. Andrew Turner of AMT Promotions, which has already shifted 91,000 yo-yos, can provide you with ones that "make horrible irritating noises - gunfire, missiles, that sort of thing". Easons in O'Connell Street Dublin were completely sold out by last Friday, awaiting new stock. You have to admit that the new trick yoyos are better than dull old plastic ones of the past. But the nostalgia of parents, and kneejerk dislike of the new, often scuppers young hearts' desires.

A sales assistant pointing to the Disney merchandise admits: "Most of the rows in here are because parents go for the more traditional merchandise - Snow White, the Aristocats - and children always want what's new. This year we've got a huge talking soft-toy version of Mushu from the new Mulan film, as well as a special Beanie Bag Mushu that talks like Eddie Murphy".

What more could a child ask? Beanie Bags are the hottest collector's item, and this one talks like Eddie Murphy! What they don't want is mum saying "Look! A clay Dopey that reminds me of my own childhood; we'll have that instead." When you were a child, did you want your dad giving you a piece of shrapnel because that's what he played with in 1940?

The deadpan British comedian Jack Dee referred recently to what he called "neat little nurseries with Victorian-style toys chosen by the parents, with children screaming for Teletubbies and Power Rangers". It reminded him of a child at his daughter's school whose parents disapprove of crisps: "This child performs for the others, pretending to be a dog and begging for crisps. What's worse, having a bag of crisps and a Teletubby toy when you're five years old, or crawling around like a dog in front of your whole class?"

Like sparkly yo-yos, the cuddly toys of 1998 are superior versions of old favourites. Most are based on the Tamagotchi principle of taking care of your own personal pet. The Furby speaks Furbish; it's the child's job to teach it English. Disney does a vet kit, so your toy dalmatian comes with a blood-pressure meter, syringes and a dog bowl. (Well, yes, that does sound dodgy.) You can also buy a Giggling Flubber, a Push & Crawl Mickey Mouse, and a Bouncing Tigger. For about £99.99, your child could have an Interactive Barney, which is "almost a learning tool" because it can teach the alphabet.

Of course a cuddly animal that talks is better than one that doesn't.

Perhaps it's good for kids to "take care" of a toy animal; it's a lot more sensible than buying the kid a puppy. Psychologist Susan Crompton advises that "there's a strong argument for buying children what they want, because if they're interested in it they will engage in imaginative play, which is an important part of child development".

Disapproval is something that parents just have to get over; money is a different story. Steve Hastings, of marketing company Banks Hoggins O'Shea, says that "A nine-year-old will develop a subtle strategy of pester power, maybe suggesting they share the cost or wash the car."

What a mutually beneficial free market. Parents not only get a clean car, they get a grateful child. I had a sort of godfather once, now dead, whom I can only ever picture with an Elastoplast on his head; that's because of the injury he sustained one Christmas helping my father put up a Sindy House that I'd been given after months of pester power. That Sindy House looms large in my childhood memories - it was large, in fact, which was the main reason I wanted it. The joy I derived from it is genuinely unqualifiable. If nothing else, it proved my parents had been listening.

It's hard to imagine how I'd feel if they hadn't given me anything because they'd used up all their shopping days debating the evils of consumerism.

Deny yourself the famous brand of washing powder, or that Kate Moss perfume; don't impose your politics on the kids, who can't wield their own wallets. You give your dog the food that top breeders recommend, don't you? The children deserve just as much.