Sky Weather

Something has happened to the weather girls on Sky News. For as a long as I can remember regulation clothing for these fine young ladies included a skirt that stopped at least 4 inches below the knee. Maybe it's because it's Christmas, maybe Sky's demographic research has dictated it but whatever the reason, the skirts are now knee length.

Where will it end? Is this the start of a trend? Will the skirts rise year on year until who knows what?

Let's hope so because the weather forecasts are bloody awful. I defy anyone to know what's going to happen from watching one of their 30 second broadcasts. Mind you I'm normally distracted by the skirts.

Jon

Heroes (unsung)

Famous Belgians. Splendid chaps, none of them.

One of my all time heroes is a chap called Camille Jenatzy. A not so famous Belgian.

Heroes are everywhere these days. They don't do much of course; you're a hero for simply doing your job (like an American soldier in Iraq) or coping with some disease that lots of other people get. But not that long ago heroes did remarkable things. I don't mean like the heroes in film and television either, which represent a romanticised vision of fighting adversity.

I'm talking about heroism that extends human understanding and that future generations can build upon. Jenatzy fits the bill perfectly.

Back in 1898 this eccentric inventor was experimenting with electric power. At the time the motor car was in its infancy and nobody had decided which of the three methods of propulsion being used would become the standard. Jenatzy favoured electric power over both steam and the combustion engine.

He might well have been about 200 years ahead of his time on this, as electric cars are making a comeback but his reasons for thinking petrol wouldn't last were sound - petrol driven cars were slow and the car would need to be fast if it were to offer it's full potential. And that was where he came in.

Over in France the Count Gaston de Chasseloup-Laubat decided he would set a marker in the dust - it became the Land Speed Record (LSR). His Jeantaud electric powered car reached the fantastic speed of 39.24 mph on 18th December 1898 at Acheres just outside Paris (now a suburb within its boundaries). It doesn't seem very fast now but this was the cutting edge.

Jenatzy was spurred on and so he decided to meet the Count in Acheres and race head to head. Over the next few months they faced each other on several occasions and their rivalry inspired a number of innovations. Jenatzy shaped his car to make the most of aerodynamics while the Count created the steering wheel - each in an effort to gain an advantage over the other.

Jenatzy won thorugh in the end. He was the first person to ever drive a car above 40mph, and on 29th April 1899 he set his final record by reaching 65.79 mph (therefore becoming the first person to drive a car over the 100kph mark). Six months of competition had driven the record higher and higher and it was Jenatzy's commitment that made that possible. It is summed up in the name he gave his car - and this sums up the spirit of human endeavour perfectly and mirrors every subsequent attack on the LSR. He named his car Le Jemais Content - The Never Satisfied.

The following year petrol cars found enough speed to break his record, and over a hundred years later it is jet power that sets the standards. The current LSR stands at 763.03 mph, set by fighter pilot Andy Green in the Thrust SSC in 1997 and an American team is looking to break the 800mph barrier as soon as possible. The spirit of Le Jamais Contente lives on and so it should.

Sources: The Land Speed Record, Compiled by R M Clarke - Brooklands Books

Naming and Shaming

Over the next few months this blog is changing. A few months ago The Keepers of Croydon ceased to exist as a fan group - when I woke up to the stupidity of organising events centered around a programme I had 'issues' with.

So it seems fitting that the blog has a name change that fits the new style and content. Other changes will not be announced. There's no official switch over date to the new format and content.

Anyway, shortly "The Keepers of Croydon" will be changing it's name to "The Death of Doctor Who". If you can't find Keepers any longer remember that title!

The Curse of Doctor Who pt 1

Being a Doctor Who fan just gets stranger. Randomly: other fans expect you to know as much about the show as they do, others expect you to know as little as they do, some of them don't think you can be as passionate about anything else (including human relationships) and most seem to live in a state of equilibrium.

They are 'content'. What a fucking terrible word. My therapist (when she bothers to say anything at all; and I hasten to add that she is, of course, imaginary) says that both happiness and depression are two extremes of the same continuum. In life's rich twatting tapestry (and that is in no way a reference to female circumcision - my therapist is getting to you too now!) one should experience great joy and great sorrow, probably in equal measure. The key to a successful life is to achieve 'contentment'. That in between state of the neutral.

My relationship with Doctor Who is reaching one of contentment. When I started this 'blog' I was at a cross roads. I had fallen out with the programme I love (note present tense - especially as it could go all over the place at any moment). When you love something or someone you have to accept that they could be part of your life forever - Jesus you might make a common mistake and marry the bitch / bastard. Love is great. Love is wonderful. Except when...

My problem a year or so ago was that I stopped 'liking' Doctor Who. And yet I still loved it and still do. I couldn't stand to be near it, it's gross gurning overacting face. Neither could I get it out of my mind. I rebelled. I toned down my interest in all things Who. Torchwood barely got a look in. I forgot the Sarah Jane Adventures were on and missed the pilot. I stopped buying DWM.

I haven't missed out. I did other things instead. I haven't missed an episode of Who yet but I've broadened my horizons. And now I find it so odd that people get so worked up about what on the whole is a rather, cheap, and frankly shit TV show. The vast majority of Who is rubbish and never to be repeated on mainstream TV. I love it. I'm content not to like most of it because the irony is so fitting.

So what's next? Well, this blog can't carry on like this. It has to either die or regenerate. Personally I'd like to murder the little fucker but myself and Piggy Fizz and who knows who else have things to say. We've broken out of Who fandom - there's a whole new world out there and reformed Who fans have to play their part... can you hear that drumming???

Over the next two months some changes will be taking place.

Short Story: Dreams of Boats

No new Who? Wrong!

The Keepers of Croydon is proud to present a series of short stories; each one was entered in the recent Big Finish competition but sadly didn't make it. The writers would love to read your constructive criticism and hope you enjoy the ride!

Dreams of Boats

By Matthew Brooke

Christopher Macklin scooped the mail from his doormat and sorted through it with shaking hands. Was today going to be a normal day, with the usual junk mail and bills, or would it happen again? Would he get another one of those letters? His heart lurched when he saw the familiar blue-grey envelope. As he had done many times before Chris checked for clues to its origin. There was nothing – just his name and address, hand printed in a precise cursive script.

Chris considered throwing the envelope away unopened. He had done this with several of the previous envelopes, thinking that he could continue with his life if he just ignored them. But every time the compulsion to read the letters grew until he gave in and retrieved them from the bin.

Chris sat at his kitchen table and opened the envelope. Inside were five sheets of lined notepaper - always five sheets – filled on each side with the same neat hand. Chris’s eyes were drawn to the capital letters at the head of the first page and he started to read:

DOCTOR WHO IN AN EXCITING ADVENTURE WITH THE XANTRAX

With a wheezing groaning sound the TARDIS materialised in a verdant glade. The doors to the battered Police Box swung open and out stepped the Doctor, closely followed by his travelling companion Christopher Macklin…

*

The first time it happened Chris assumed it was a practical joke. Dave and Gary at work loved to play pranks on him. On his first day at the call centre, Chris returned from his orientation to find his coffee mug glued to his desk, his pens replaced with Twiglets, and a half-naked picture of David Hasselhoff loaded as a screensaver on his PC. Two years of rolling with the punches, yet Chris remained their butt monkey. So when the first envelope landed on his doormat he read the story with a familiar sense of annoyance and resignation.

This first story was set on a cruise ship and started with Chris – it was strange to think of himself in third person – feeling seasick. What should have been a routine visit to the infirmary for sickness tablets turned nasty when the ship’s doctor was revealed as an eight-foot tall green monster with flatulence problems. The monster attacked, but Chris was saved by a mysterious traveller who introduced himself only as the Doctor. The Doctor explained that the cruise was run by alien monsters intent of kidnapping young people. Together, the Doctor and Chris defeated the alien’s scheme. This rather fanciful plot was incidental to the central theme of the story; with no girlfriend and a dead-end job, Chris was bored with life. The Doctor offered him the chance to travel and see the wonders of the universe. The story ended with Chris entering the Doctor’s space/time machine and being whisked off to Who Knows Where.

Chris did not find the story amusing. He had booked a holiday on a cruise ship last summer, but cancelled when his mum fell ill. He decided he wouldn’t have enjoyed himself if he was worrying about her the whole trip. And he did sometimes feel that his life was going nowhere, but didn’t everyone?

The following morning Chris brought the story in to work and tossed it to Dave and Gary in the next cubicle. "Very funny guys," he said. "But can I make a request for next time? If I have to travel through time and space in a blue box I’d rather be with a hot chick than a dandy in a frockcoat. Someone like Cathrine Zeta-Jones. Come on, one for the dads and all that."

Dave read the story and burst out laughing. He passed it to Gary who read it through carefully then looked at Chris with a quizzical frown. "What the hell does ‘dimensionally transcendental’ mean?"

"You tell me Gary, you wrote it."
"Sorry mate, you’ve got the wrong guy."
"Dave?"
"You know me Chris, the only joined-up letters I do are the ones I write in the snow."
"Well who wrote it then?"
Gary shrugged. "Search me mate. You must have a secret admirer."
By the time the fourth envelope arrived, Chris’s annoyance had turned to anger.
"Look Dave, are you sure you don’t have anything to do with this?"
"For the last time Chris, my handwriting is shocking. That story looks like it was written with a quill or something. It’s a bloody work of art. I couldn’t do that if my life depended on it."

The following week the fifth envelope arrived. When Chris picked it up from the doormat and recognised the handwriting and the same blue-grey envelope he felt a strange chill. The chill changed to actual fear when he realised for the first time that the envelopes had not been stamped. That meant…

Chris yanked open his front door and peered up the cul-de-sac. There was no one there. A small voice told him that the culprit was probably hiding just out of view, watching him, laughing at him. Chris slammed the door and stood for several minutes with his heart pounding and mind racing with a thousand possibilities.

Eventually he snapped out of his reverie and tore open the envelope. He pulled out the five sheets of paper and read them quickly through. It was another fantastic tale of alien schemes scuppered by the Doctor and Christopher Macklin - the Doctor and himself.

That night Chris studied the story many times, searching for any clue to its authorship. When he finally slept he dreamt fitfully of nebulae, spaceships and robotic killing machines.

Weeks passed and with each envelope that fell on his doormat Chris’s anxiety grew. Every time he opened his front door he thought that he would catch his stalker slipping another letter through his box. As he walked to work he would suddenly stop and turn, convinced he heard shuffling footsteps following him.

Unable to think about anything other than his unknown stalker, Chris’s work suffered. He lost his temper on the phone to customers and snapped at Gary and Dave when they offered to help. After three formal warning letters, he was summoned to his boss’s office and she insisted that he take leave without pay, "to think about your future."

Then the eighth envelope arrived, changing everything. The story started predictably enough with the Doctor and Chris once more pitted against an alien threat. This time the aliens manifested as the ghosts of the dearly departed, manipulating the recently bereaved in order to gain a foothold on the Earth. As the story approached its climax the leader of the aliens assumed the guise of Chris’s dead twin brother and spoke those four terrible words that had haunted the real Chris for twenty years:

"It’s all your fault."

Chris nearly dropped the pages. How could they know? How could anybody know? Chris’s brother Jason had died and those final words, that hateful accusation, had died with him. Unmentioned – unmentionable – for twenty lonely years.

This was no prank, no sinister obsession. This was something else, something other. From the moment he read those four words, Chris knew that somehow these stories were real. Somewhere these events were happening – perhaps in the future, perhaps in some strange other dimension. And the tragedy was that this other Chris was braver, nobler and more resourceful than he could ever hope to be.

*

"There is nothing you can do Timelord," hissed the Xantrax Queen. "Your pitiful sonic device is powerless against the Xantax’ superior technology. You are now in my power and will be my plaything throughout eternity."

The Doctor winced as the Xantrax guards clamped his arms in their giant pincers and dragged him towards their hideous Queen. He struggled, but to no avail. There was only one hope left; the future of planet Earth now rested squarely on the shoulders of young Christopher Macklin. If only he could get here in time…

Chris paused. There was something, some itch in the back of his mind.

If only he could get here in time…

Something he had missed. He flipped back to the first sheet and started to read again.

DOCTOR WHO IN AN EXCITING ADVENTURE WITH THE XANTRAX
With a wheezing groaning sound the TARDIS materialised in a verdant glade. The doors to the battered Police Box swung open and out stepped the Doctor, closely followed by his travelling companion Christopher Macklin.

"Well Doctor, where has the TARDIS landed us this time?"
"Planet Earth."
"Again?"
"Yes. London. Hampstead Heath to be precise. And judging by the level of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, I’d say sometime in the early 21st century."

Chris bent down and picked up a newspaper that was blowing around his feet.

"July 17th 2007. And look at this headline: ‘Prime Minister Denies UFO Reports’…"

July 17th 2007. Chris had not been to work for two months; he had not even been out of the house for a week, but July 17th? Surely that was today. Chris glanced at the wall clock. The digital readout confirmed it.

Eagerly, Chris flipped forward a page.

"The TARDIS has triangulated the signal. Ah! We finally know where the Xantrax Queen is laying her eggs. She’s been in the crypt beneath St Paul’s Cathedral all along."

Chris banged his fist on the console in frustration. "Right under our noses!"

"Yes. Now there’s very little time. I will go and distract her. You know what to do?"
Chris sighed. "Yes Doctor, I have to reverse the polarity of the temporal normaliser and disconnect the time vector generator."
"Good man. Let’s see how she stands up to Gallifreyan technology. But remember, timing is everything. You must be at St Paul’s with the time vector generator at precisely sixteen-hundred hours."
"Trust me."

Chris blinked, and in a flash it hit him. This was happening right now. The Doctor and the other, better Chris were out there fighting against the Xantrax today, in London. Chris looked again at the wall clock – 3:07 pm – just under an hour before the Doctor’s deadline.

Chris dropped the story and grabbed his Oyster Card, wallet and keys. Jamming on his trainers, Chris threw open the front door and ran all the way to the Perivale tube station. He had missed the boat too many times before and he wasn’t going to let this opportunity sail by.

By the time the train hit zone 1 the Central Line was packed. As the crowd jostled Chris he noted that unlike the TARDIS these tube trains seemed smaller on the inside. He glanced at his watch – 3:42.

Chris alighted at St Paul’s at 3:54. He tore towards the exit, pushing past a young couple on the escalator. He stepped out into Newgate St and looked up at the dome of St Paul’s to his left. Heedless of the traffic, Chris ran towards the Cathedral, his watch counting towards his destiny.

On the steps of the Cathedral Chris noticed a small door to the side forced off its hinges. For the first time since leaving the house he paused, but only for a moment and then plunged through the doorway.

Chris found himself in a dark corridor. He had to proceed slowly and feel his way to avoid tripping on the uneven stone slabs. After a few minutes he came to a large wooden door. His heart told him that this was the door to the crypt and behind it he would find the Doctor.

Chris pressed his ear to the door and listened.

"So Dok-tor," came the rasping voice of the Xantrax Queen. "How does it feel to know that the Timelords have finally run out of time?"
"Oh I don’t know," said the Doctor nonchalantly. "My friends and I have always been complimented on our sense of timing."

Chris looked down as his watch clicked over to 4:00. Now or never. He took a deep breath and heaved open the heavy door.
"Christopher!" beamed the Doctor. "Perfect timing!"

Chris watched as a mirror image of himself burst through a door at the opposite end of the crypt. This other Chris – Christopher – held aloft a long metallic instrument that emitted a rainbow of indescribable colours and seemed to twist the air around it. The Xantrax Queen swivelled her corpulent frame and shrieked in horror as Christopher leapt onto the podium where the Doctor was chained.

"Hi Doctor," he said. "Did I miss much?"
"KILL THEM!" shrieked the Xantrax Queen. Her chitinous guards moved towards the Doctor and Christopher.
"Not today thank you," said the Doctor. He took the time vector generator from Christopher, tapped a complex rhythm on its side with his finger, and pointed it towards the Xantrax Queen.
"Leave this planet in peace, or face the consequences!"
The Xantrax Queen raised herself on her hind legs and shrieked, "Never!"
"So be it," said the Doctor sadly and tapped out the final stanza of the rhythm. The rainbow of colour expanded until it covered the Xantrax Queen and her guards. From his vantage point by the wooden door Chris covered his eyes. When the glare died down he looked again and the aliens were gone.
"Well, that’s over," said the Doctor. "Now for the real problem."

And Chris realised that the Doctor was looking directly at him.

*

When Chris arrived home later that evening he noticed the story lying on the kitchen table where he had left it. He picked it up and turned to the last page:

"We’ve jumped a time track," said the Doctor. "We really shouldn’t be here at all. As soon as the time vector generator realigns we’ll be gone. You’ll never hear from us again."
Chris looked at the other Chris – Christopher the hero, Christopher the saviour of the world.
"This life you lead, I don’t think I could do it."
The other Chris smiled and shook his head. "We are the same person. We’re both capable of exactly the same things. There’s just one difference. You missed the boat. I caught it."
The Doctor placed his hand on his Chris’ shoulder. "Time’s up," he said.
The time vector generator hummed, space twisted in on itself, and the Doctor and the other Chris were gone, leaving Chris alone in the empty crypt.

Chris placed the story on the table in front of him. Tomorrow he would go in to work, make up with Gary and Dave and square things with his boss. If she didn’t want him back he didn’t mind. He could always get another job, or go travelling, or anything he put his mind to. Chris went to bed that night and slept soundly for the first time in months.

He dreamt of boats.

The Last of the Saxon Files (Possible Spoiler)

Well it would be silly to carry on with that now they've actually been passed to Torchwood.

I've added the spoiler tag but really this is a bit of speculation based on a conversation I had with a woman who lives in Wales. She mentioned that the Doctor Who team had driven into RAF St Athan, just outside Llantwit Major in South Wales fr some shooting. This was about 3-5 months ago.

Now I'm making an assumption here that the scene in The Sound of Drums where The Master meets President Elect Winters disembarking Air Force One were filmed there. I stand to be corrected.

The interesting thing about what she had to say about the filming though was that certain metal meanies on castors had been present as part of the shoot. Now it's just possible that they filmed some of the Evolution in Manhattan stuff there or else, perhaps we're in for another finale involving the Daleks. Fancy that.

Have fun,
Bye bye!

The Doctor Who Pension Fund - New Member!

It comes to something when a Doctor Who DVD commentary is less interesting than the story itself. But it's accomplished with ease on the recent release of Tom Baker's first story - Robot.

The normally on form Tom was joined by Producer Barry Letts, the woman who just keeps looking younger and younger - Elizabeth Sladen (how does she do it? I wonder), and the writer of the story Terrence Dicks.

Poor old Tom was particularly dull in the two episodes I could listen too before heading to the pub for relief. Terrence Dicks on the other hand appeared to be full of beans.

Why he felt the need to congratulate himself every five minutes about his work in general rather than talk about how poor Robot is remains a mystery.... ah, I get it.

So now we know that all the good parts of Robot were in the script. The bad parts might just have been added by the actors or the director. Terrence inspired all the good writers of the new series into writing via his books. Terrence the great!

So we've got Courtney and now we have Dicks - The Doctor Who pension fund for people who really deserve our money. Please provide generously by buying their products.

‘Family of Blood'? More like 'Family of Raw Onions'

Written by Piggy Fizz

What a shame- there was an awful lot of good stuff in ‘Human Nature’, so much so that I genuinely felt ‘Family of Blood’ might buck the unfortunate, ‘first half’s great- the conclusion’s just a run-around’ tradition.

Instead, while ‘Human Nature’ took the old ‘mythical character becomes mortal’ plot and made it involving through well-drawn and well performed characters, the conclusion merely cranked up the scarecrows, left Smith with little choice but to become the Doctor and cattle-prodded us into feeling sad with hymns, moth-balled war veterans and soft focus wedding album shots. Emotional? No, just emotive.

There’s a rare skill to persuading people to care about a fictional romance by ensuring that we really enjoy seeing characters in each other’s company. In contrast, demanding that everyone knows something is tragic through mushy music and fancy framing is a technique anyone can pick up from a few bad Spielberg movies. It’s no more difficult than making an advert for animal charities by finding the most doe-eyed mutt then dubbing on the pleading voice of an actor supposedly expressing the hound’s confusion at why its owners kept wanting to hurt it. If as a result you donate cash to that charity rather than one helping actual human beings, then you deserve to be neutered.

If the above sounds a little tangential, it may in fact get to the root of why this episode annoyed me so much. It wasn’t just that ‘Family’ failed to keep up the quality of its predecessor, it’s the nasty feeling that fans are going to consider this as an unchallengeable work of genius merely on the grounds that it wheeled out the all the stock ‘boo-hoo’ techniques.

Really, what is there to get worked up about? Smith comes across as a dithering twit here and while, yes, he’s under exceptional circumstances, very little finally emerges to make him seem as noble as even Pete Tyler, Michelle Collins’ selfish space captain or any number of other ‘do the right thing’ everymen we’ve seen since the show’s return.

For Smith to defeat the Family as himself, then with the crisis over, ultimately acknowledge that he had a moral duty to transform back into the Doctor, if only to get Martha home, could have worked far more effectively. It would provide a genuine choice for Smith, torn between guaranteed contentment or surrender into life as an isolated wanderer. As it is we get the feeling that Smith under pressure didn’t really have much option, indeed he seemed extremely keen to forsake responsibility altogether until learning that the family would wipe out him and everyone else if he didn’t get on with the required sacrificing.

A constant theme of the comeback series has been the Doctor working more as an ideal or inspiration for ordinary characters (and hopefully viewers) rather than as a cosmic hero solving every crisis single-handed, so it’s unfortunate that what could have been the ultimate expression of that philosophy is passed over here.

The above of course is merely a suggestion, I’m not for a second saying that it’s the only or indeed the best way of sorting the story out, it’s just that Cornell and certainly RTD are gifted enough writers to go beyond the obvious and surprise viewers with a resolution packing a real emotional punch rather than just serving up a predictable and for me deeply unsatisfying platter of shallow cliches.

In short, the Doctor’s few brief speeches in ‘School Reunion’ or indeed his wordless, resigned response during the closing of ‘Green Death’ quietly convey a great deal more than any amount death-bed melodrama manages here.

How Long Can the Fitzroy Tavern Last?

It was yet another strange night at the Fitzroy Tavern. When London's Dr Who community comes out in force nobody reminds the normal people to stay indoors which can lead to overcrowding.

The Tavern always spills out onto the street even in winter but when the weather is pleasant there are empty seats inside as the devoted catch some evening sun.

Fed up with clearing up broken glass from the pavement the Tavern staff have recently resorted to plastic tankards of the kind frowned upon by serious drinkers. But now they're obsessed with people standing on a particular patch of pavement no doubt because the council has told them to control their clients. Stray over the line of bricks and the bar closes.

Last night when people refused to drink where they were told the bar did indeed close (for a while). Shock. Horror. Nah, just move to a more pleasant pub down the road.

In fact does it have to be the Fitzroy every month?
Any suggestions?

Big Finish Limbo #3: The Murky Land of Wikipedia

Written by The Mara

With the recent announcement that the Big Finish judges will have completed reading through all their short story submissions in twenty-two days (no, I’m not counting or anything like that), it seemed time to recommence the blog entries that the Keeper asked me to write as a way of documenting one individual’s experiences of the whole competition process.

It also seemed like a good idea to pull my entry out and read it again – something I’ve not done since the day I submitted it. A few niggles sprang forth, but generally I’m still happy with it, although I do think it is not enough in the Big Finish house style to be a contender. But twenty-two days shall see me out of limbo at least

The actual writing of the story didn’t take that long. I’m the type of writer who edits as I’m writing, so there isn’t a lot of difference between my completed first drafts and the final product for anything I write. It means that a first draft for a 3000 word story or chapter can take anything between a day and four days to produce, depending on how well things come together. The first draft I was happy with was finished on the 15th of January at 8.52pm. File modification dates are a useful thing. I think I started writing the story maybe two or three days prior. Over the next two weeks I had it proofread by others in order to improve the grammar and confirm everything made sense, and only submitted it to Big Finish at the last possible moment. I bet the judges hated me and everyone else who was part of that last rush over the (Big) finish line.

So the writing and drafting process was neither terribly labour nor emotionally intensive. What took me the majority of December and January was the research to ground the story with technical details to increase realism (and to avoid any chance that some mega-fan could pick up continuity problems in my use of the Doctor).

What started as a fairly innocent Internet search on the effects of radiation on the human body, led to me delving into the murky online world of hearsay and gossip about real-world events. I found out some fascinating information that was pure gold for my story, but the amount of mis- and dis-information masquerading as "truth" on the ‘Net is disturbing.

I need to put on my "School Teacher" persona for a bit. For those of you who went to University and did not spend all of your time in the Bar, you may remember the importance of referencing in your assignments, and also the importance of having reputable sources. This is something the ‘Net has forgotten. While I found sources that in themselves appeared reputable, they disagreed with each other on a number of ‘facts’ and none of them were consistent in stating the sources for their information. Fighting this to give veracity to my own work was time consuming.

Wikipedia - the bane of all thinking minds everywhere - has got some particularly loony stuff stated as fact in their entries. Unfortunately, because it has been created by a hive-mind, it’s hard for people to believe that it often operates on prejudice and assumption rather than facts. I couldn’t help myself - I had to change an entry on the construction of nuclear reactors in the Soviet Union (it had the reactor specifications wrong). My very first engagement with the hive-mind – hurrah!

It must have been that pesky school ma’am coming out that made me alter the entry, although she quietened down again and left a following entry totally alone. I checked today, and the entry is still up there in its full wacky glory.

Chasing down radiation references led me to an entry that states that in the 1970s, the Soviets dumped a whole bunch of nuclear warheads in the Bay of Naples, and that they’re still there. The source cited by Wiki for the veracity of this statement is actually a wild piece of journalism (reproduced from The Independent) which itself uses no sources other than the Italian dude who did/did not eat sushi with Litvinenko the day he was poisoned with Polonium 210. For someone else who is less of a source-nerd than I, Wiki using The Independent article as a source would be enough to take the Wiki entry as fact. It is only on reading the Independent article that the lack of proof becomes blindingly obvious.

Still, my research did lead me to more fruitful places. As part of my research I came across the ‘Goiânia Radiation Incident’ (http://arts.bev.net/roperldavid/GRI.htm), a tragic yet fascinating account of radiation poisoning through neglect. Besides the short story leading me to my first foray into adding to Wikipedia, I also now have an understanding of nuclear reactors, the different forms of leukaemia, possible treatments and survival rates, and the specific doses of radiation needed to cause side effects and fatalities.

This last piece of research dovetailed quite nicely into watching Doctor Who on TV.

I can now tell you that the annual radiation dose to your gonads from the TV set is around 0.2-1.5 millirems. For some of you it is likely to be much higher. But before that worries any of you, natural background levels are around the 100 - 180 millirem mark - there’s no need to bring out the lead codpieces just yet.

Unless you want to.


Coming soon – Big Finish Limbo #4: Walking in Big Shoes.

Series 3 Preview! - The Lazarus Experiment

Preview 1 - Written by Bazza

Episode 6 means we're almost 1/2 way through season 3 and for me it's been a corker of a season with David nailing his portrayal of the Doctor and Freema's winning portrayal of Martha.

So where does this leave The Lazarus Experiment? Well, it's a comfortable mid-season episode with a simple story which managed with some cracking dialogue and some real shocks for the youngsters (and even this oldster!) to keep me thoroughly entertained. Just don't expect too much of it - as said it's not the most complex of storylines...

Without giving too much away, we're back home with the Jones, who, as RTD promised, are developing quite nicely in a different direction from the Tylers and quickly onto a demonstration by a Professor Lazarus, as played by Mark Gatiss. It isn't too long before we're in 'monster of the week' territory meets the Fly meets Quatermass!! The simplicity and predictability of the plot might disappoint some, but the script, direction and performances are top notch New Who. It really is a thrilling chase which really had me on the edge of my seat.

So what to enjoy and what not?

The positives:

The Doctor and Martha: if they aren't the New Avengers, then I'm John Steed.
Thrills: I jumped!
The Jones: They ain't the Tylers - I'm not so sure it's going to end happily, you know!
The Dialogue: just one line in this script was enough to keep an old fan happy. You'll know which one.

The negatives:

The Mill; well don't get me wrong here, the monster leaps into view and scared me silly at points, but there's an element in its design which says the Mill stretched themselves just a little far.
The Plot:it's not rocket science!
Guest stars: other than Gastiss and the Jones', there's not much for any old former Coronation Street actress to do but enjoy the nibbles.

And in the end: relax, enjoy the scary ride and the hint of troubled times ahead. Troubled? Well, that's what Mr Saxon told me....

Preview 2 - Written by Captain Jack's Defabricator

Nearly half way through series three, what should we expect from episode six?

Well, what we get this coming Saturday in 'The Lazarus Experiment' is a fast-moving 45 minutes - you may find it will fly by! - with some entertaining performances. It also moves the Jones family story forward, and opens a whole new can of worms with its references to Saxon.

In this episode the show continues to explore issues around humanity and mortality, and there are some very poignant examples of this; I imagine that future stories will cover this again, especially as we move towards the Cornell two-parter.

The premise of the episode is simple, but it's well-plotted and well-paced, good on characterisation with a tight script that has some very good dialogue. This is especially true for Mark Gatiss and the under-used Thelma Barlow on the one hand, and David with both Freema and Adjoa (Francine) on the other. If you thought the 'Doctor/mother of companion' relationship was turbulent or complicated in previous Who, wait to see the sparks fly in this. I see trouble ahead.

Martha gets quite a bit to do in this one, and Freema's very good, ably supported by the actors who play her family. The characters of Francine and Tish are drawn out particularly well, and there's an interesting plot development that should lead to some serious fireworks later in the series involving at least one of Martha's relatives, perhaps more...... Will Martha rue that fateful day when the Doctor took off his tie for her?

Nabil Shaban - The Blue Wolf is His Favorite Animal, Apparently

When I am not earning a living.... I investigate UFOs, Ghosts and other Paranormal Phenomena.

So says Nabil on his homepage. But is he going to make a lot of money by returning to Dr Who or will he spend many a night searching instead for things that don't exist (on the whole... as far as anyone knows)???

Well, it seems that Nabil hasn't been lazy since I last saw him act back in 1985 or some such. In fact he's like a whirlwind of ideas - poetry, politics, acting; he'll attempt them all. According to his site he's the man with the ideas when it comes to getting back into Dr Who for some more Sil action. Let's take a look at his ideas:

I wrote to Russell T. Davies on the 5th of May 2006 with some story ideas

One idea I proposed was if Sil after being thwarted yet again by the Doctor, is punished by the Rulers of the Universe by being forced to reluctant companion of his erstwhile enemy, grudgingly helping in the battle against evil. I think it would be very amusing and the fans would love it.

Another idea I have is of a story that brings back Carol Ann Ford as the Doctor's grand-daughter but who now is a grandmother herself. Basically, what has happened is that Sil has kidnapped Susan's own grand-daughter, in the hope of extracting Time-Lord genes for his own evil purposes. Susan sends out an S.O.S. message to her "grandfather" who, of course, now looks more like he should be her grandson. I can imagine a complication occurring where Susan's grand-daughter doesn't realise the blood relationship of the Doctor and has fallen in love with him. Perhaps, at first, even the Doctor doesn't realise the young woman he is trying to rescue is his great great grand-daughter...and he is falling in love with her!!!

I received a response from Simon Winstone, Script editor of Doctor Who, saying that they can't consider any unsolicited story suggestions, as they must avoid any confusion over copyright issues...and claims that it is entirely possible for people to have the same great idea independently of each other, and so, to avoid any potential misunderstanding, the BBC cannot read story ideas that are sent in.

Well, I don't see any confusion over the copyright issue concerning my Doctor Who ideas as described above because unless the BBC can prove that anyone working for Doctor Who Production writing scripts containing the same ideas as mine, which predate my sending in my ideas i.e. (05/05/06), I clearly have a priori evidence of owning the copyright. So if my story is produced, you, DW Fans, will know you first read about it here from me.

[posted on http://www.drwho-online.co.uk on 19th May 2006 ]

Good luck, Nabil.
Oh and no copyright infringement intended!

PREVIEW: Gridlock - SPOILERS AHEAD

Written by Piggy Fizz

In which RTD does what he does best - take a strikingly off-beat idea, riff on it, and run the whole thing through with plenty of action and enough self-depreciating lines to show that we'd be daft to treat this too seriously. Yes, the resolution is necessarily a bit simple, but by then the story’s done what it’s supposed to do; namely be imaginative and exciting. I’ll save my ranting defense of RTD’s scripts for another time, but basically this once again shows that our man understands the appeal in the series' format and knows how to transfer that enthusiasm to a wider public who don’t squander their time listening to audio recordings of lost Troughton stories.

This week’s zany notion is a downward-spiral future where the population has become happy enough to spend huge chunks of their lives stuck in endless traffic jams in the vague hope of reaching some eventual reward for all their waiting. Regardless of whether you interpret this as a satire on lousy town-planning, blind trust in authority or a wider swipe at religion, the script extrapolates a whole world and philosophy from its set-up, leaving space enough for viewers to either find their own meaning in it or just enjoy the sight of Tennant breathlessly racing the rescue.

While this story finally sees Martha in peril, she’s no damsel in distress, swiftly getting a handle on her situation and persuading her captors to start questioning what they’re doing. With no disrespect to Billie Piper, I’m really enjoying Freema’s less showy approach and more subtle character.

The usually gurning Tennant is restrained and we get a Doctor doubtful of his approach and attitude. Of course he wins through, but this leads to a smashing and surprisingly well-acted coda which works beautifully in itself though one imagines it’s also paving the way for events later in the series.

So then, fun, funny and thrilling. What else do you want?

Sorry? Final message? Possible returning monsters? No idea what you’re talking about.

Dr Who Ratings Poll

Well, you're a cocksure bunch, so I've heard. Nearly 96% of think that Dr Who won't be beaten in the ratings by ITV1 during series 3 (and I suspect that Mr 4% was taking the piss - probably a rogue element of fandom skulking around the web just to cause a paradox).

The Lost Dr. Who Epics (...of PiggyFizz)

Written by Piggy Fizz

Okay, so I didn’t enter the Big Finish short story contest earlier this year, though I did sort of think about it. However, during the whole sort of thinking about it process, my brain dislodged several youthful and rather unpolished efforts at WHO story-writing, now offered here in a public arena that would have been a mad-man’s nightmare when I originally crafted them, many years ago.

HOW DOCTOR WHO STARTED (LATE 70’S)

I had the Tom Baker doll - I loved Dr. Who but I had no idea what the back-story was. My brothers had an annual with Jon Pertwee wandering over some rocks on the cover but I assumed this represented a form of Dr. Who that didn’t really count. Filling the gap myself, the very first story - acted out with my Baker doll - had Dr. Who as a normal physician from the olden days working in the Wild West but without his scarf! Someone phones him up to go and cure them. On the way he finds a blue box next to a post with some tethered horses. Dr. Who goes in to have a look about and is spirited away by the mysterious craft. The Doctor quickly gets to grips with flying this baffling new time/space machine and when he feels confident enough, starts wearing a scarf. And meets Leela.

DUGGAN’S INVITATION (1980)

I don’t think I got too far with this one. In real life Tom Baker and Lalla Ward were getting married so I imagined this would carry on through to the actual series. The Doctor and Romana decide to tie the knot and agree to invite their best Earth friend, Duggan from that one with the seaweed head man that was on telly last year. As they are space people, Duggan’s invite comes in the form of a small, message-bearing meteorite (something the TARDIS is obviously capable of knocking up), jettisoned at high-speed from the time machine and landing down the chimney of Duggan’s house. The tough-talking private-eye is not too impressed when this results in his face being covered in soot.

AN WEREWOLF (1980)

Having turned eight, this was a far more substantial work. I was aware that a new young companion called Adric was on his way and had read in, I think, the John Craven’s Back Page of Radio Times that the new producer wanted to do a werewolf story at some point. All I can remember of this was a cliffhanger; the Doctor, Romana and Adric were trapped at the end of corridor with a werewolf approaching. This was resolved when Adric noticed a big stained glass window above them and threw a stone at it. The trio made good their escape.

DOWN THE MINES (1980)

Romana’s gone but the Doctor and Adric are still travelling about, running into trouble immediately when they turn up on a world where people are made to work down the mines, mining radioactive things for the people in charge. The Doctor is captured and put under a machine like an upside down copper bath tub that makes him better at working in a radiation mine. When the huge metal bath rises, the Doctor has a green face, no mouth and a red jump suit! Adric makes him better before the end though.

TRUCKER (1981)

Davison had been cast but wasn’t on telly yet. This may explain his unusual character in these tales. Going for a more urban, gritty feel that wouldn’t appear on screen till the McCoy era, this story had Davison, Tegan, Nyssa and Adric coming to Earth for the funeral of a UNIT soldier (you can tell I’d done some research by this point). Landing outside a greasy-spoon cafe, the group inadvertently annoy a muscular truck driver who wants to punch the Doctor. The Doctor panics, activates his sonic screwdriver and makes the sign above the café fall down. This worries the trucker, who decides to call it a day. A few years later it occurred me that in a time-travel show it would be ludicrous for the Doctor to start attending funerals as he’d have to be doing it permanently. Then came Revelation of the Daleks.

THE DESERT (1981)

The Doctor lands in the desert but not close enough to where he was supposed to be, so for comic effect he forces his three companions to push the TARDIS through the sand to the location in question. He then meets the people he was hoping to meet, taking Nyssa and Tegan with him while leaving Adric to cover the TARDIS in sand so it won’t be spotted by anyone evil. By now I didn’t actually hate Adric, but was envious that he was in the show while I wasn’t. I was planning to do stories boasting an expanded cast of Davison, Nyssa, Tegan, Adric and Prince Sebastian; young space royalty who rode around on a motorbike. He would have been played by me. I would be useful as I was small enough get through air vents and things.

NEXT TIME- The ‘lost’ Colin Baker adventures!

PREVIEWS: The Shakespeare Code - SPOILERS AHEAD

Preview #1 Written by Piggy Fizz

The TARDIS lands in a scenic chunk of the past just as some alien threat in an appropriately contemporary guise makes life hell for the locals. Yep, it could be ‘The Idiot’s Lantern’ or indeed several other more enjoyable WHO stories. It certainly describes ‘The Shakespeare Code’, though Gareth Robert’s script has manners enough to provide its villains with some motive and plan beyond merely being ‘hungry’ and thankfully the resolution doesn’t boil down to the Doctor lashing together an anti-alien device.

As a character, Shakespeare is here crucial to the plot rather than being just a random cameo from some historical figure, but that’s enough Mark Gattis-baiting for one review. The central theme of the potency of words and literacy is extremely welcome even if the episode still can’t bear to end without a shed-load of CGI visuals to keep modern telly viewers happy, though admittedly ‘The Mind Robber’ could have benefited from such sound and fury.

On the downside, the witches’ make-up design is extremely traditional, deliberately so I’m sure, but it jars weirdly with the rest of this rich-looking tale, as if they ran out time and bunged in Zelda from ‘Terrahawks’.

And okay, so the script can’t resist the obvious trick of throwing in the famous and not so famous Bard quotes, but any story with a running gag referencing ‘Duck Soup’ is okay by me.

Martha Jones is already emerging as a very likeable character, nicely played by Freema Agyeman as bright and somewhat less bolshy than her predecessor, whom I won’t name here since the Doctor himself seems more than happy to carry on gabbing about his old chum. I can appreciate that the show’s makers might want to portray the Doctor as a more human character, treating the departure of travelling pals with more than a curt, "I’ll miss you too, savage", but this is the third episode running where the Doctor bleats on about someone who has now been more than adequately replaced. Any more, and the name Rose Tyler is in danger of becoming the new Cloister Bell.

A fun if unambitious story then, though it can’t be faulted on its visually impressive execution. Watch out for some nice cameos from Matt King (Super Hans from ‘Peep Show’) and Donald Pleasance’s now not-so-little girl in a cracking final scene.

Preview #2 Written by me

From the moment The Shakespeare Code begins you realise that you're in for some very good quality drama and some stunning visuals. The recreation of 16th century Bankside looks great and you realise that the rumours about the CGI stepping up a gear is undoubtedly true.

There are some truly edgy moments in this episode: From some scary jumps for the kids, some gruesome deaths such as the chap that drowns and an intimate scene for our two main characters this isn't an episode that lets you relax for a second but with each twist and turn the plot moves forward and it keeps you hooked.

The witches are indeed archetypal stereotype 16th century hags but they still look great and they are led by one hell of a foxy witch in disguise. Worth drowning for anyway. If there's any character that feels like a let down it's the Bard himself. He's a boring genius, I'll give him that but he is central to the plot itself rather than being overwhelmed by it like Charles Dickens a couple of years back.

The plot is great and the message is a useful one, especially for kids to get their heads around. The only problem is that it's resolved loudly and it hurts the eyes. I haven't a clue how it was sorted in the end but it looked achingly great!

This is a good solid episode allowing Martha as a character to settle in and I have to say that with each passing moment I wanted to see more of her. She's a good replacement and Freema is doing extremely well. With episodes like this I expect the show to continue to do very well in the ratings.

Doctor Who and the Blue Rinse Brigade

Well, I'm sure you woke up feeling scared, insecure and utterly terrified for the future of Doctor Who. After an episode that did exactly what everyone expected the newspaper critics have turned on the show in what could be the beginning of the end of the programme's love affair with the tabloids. Some called it 'tired', 'lazy' and 'lame'. Others criticised the lead actor.

Now if this is going to be the beginning of the end then it has to be followed up with a loss in viewers but this has not materialised - yet. Smith and Jones has done very well in the ratings but it will be interesting the follow this and the critic's assessments over the next 3 months.

Meanwhile down in Croydon, I awoke with a headache. Yesterday involved me going to watch the series launch with 350 other nutters at The Printworks pub in Farringdon - which at times resembled one giant day care centre, I swear at one point a member of staff went around wiping the tables and then accidentally some of the mucky chops faces sat at them. I know that the Government would like to get more private sector provision into social services but I didn't expect it to extend to JD Wetherspoons.

I went to a few pubs before and after going to the launch so decided the best approach for today would be to head into Addiscombe for a fry up. I was warm by the time I arrived and nearly took my jumper off but then remembered I had a WHO t-shirt on underneath. Slightly embarrassed I opted to sweat it out rather than show my sad fan qualities.

After a while two old ladies of about late 60s / early 70s came in and ordered today's special - Roast beef, potatoes + 3 veg. They chatted about old ladies stuff and then I thought I heard one of them mention 'Doctor Who'. I thought I must be just obsessively hearing things so ignored it. Then I heard her say 'hospital' and 'Moon' and figured she probably was referring to that lame and lazy tat from last night.

They had a nice long chat about it:
"Did you see Anne Reid? From Coronation Street? And Dinnerladies?"
"Yes, she was very good"
"I don't think they've had a black companion before"
"No dear"
"I'm really looking forward to the new series of Torchwood now"
"Oh I don't think that'll be on until the Autumn, dear"
"Oh well, it's Shakespeare next by the looks of things"

I should have gone over whipped my jumper off and got them down to The Keepers of Croydon - I'm telling you, they weren't good looking but they could be the most interesting women in fandom. Heck if they can get into London and find a seat they'd probably have a blast at the Tavern.

So if these old dudes can keep living and carry on watching I think the critics can say what they like - the public are talking about WHO today and they're talking positively. Well I say the public; I mean Doris and Frieda.

The Saxon Files: Two Hints On "Blink" - SPOILERS AHEAD

Written by Mr Saxon

Hint 1 - Imagine a monster that only moves when you have your eyes closed... You can't sleep. Hey you can't even...

Hint 2 - Try reading all about Sally Sparrow in the Series 1 Dr Who Annual. There's a short story, it's Doctor lite and it's by a chap called Steven Moffat.

The Saxon Files: So / So Television Part 2 - I've just watched The Graham Norton Show

Jesus Christ.

The Saxon Files: So / So Television

Written by Mr Saxon

Imagine my surprise last Saturday to get an email from a TV production company - So Television (Graham Norton's company). The email was a request for information on the members of the Keepers of Croydon and my contact telephone number.

Naturally I asked for further information (as I try not to give my phone number out to strangers even when they dangle sweets) and I've not heard from him since!

However I know some people who have. Much less circumspect than little ol' me and clamouring for fame, some of my chums in Who fandom got back to Norton's bunch and the interim result was the news that several fans had been invited to the South Bank of the Thames to record the show tomorrow night (Wednesday 28th).

The set up (there always has to be one with this kind of crap) is that they would pretend to be 'ordinary' members of the public and then be invited by a roving reporter to ask questions to that chap that pretends to be Dr Who. Mr Tennant would be in a studio ready to answer the questions live!

I have to say the last thing I watched with Graham Norton in was "Rose" a couple of years back and I haven't missed his style of light entertainment lite. But let's face it he has a special place in Dr Who history just because of that accident.

The plans of Mr Norton changed at some point for our intrepid super fans though. The latest news is that the production team now want to make the interviews as realistic as possible so they're getting real 'ordinary' people in instead. I kid you not.

The fans have been told to stand down but as a special treat they get to see Messrs Norton and Tennant live in the studio and see the show being recorded. Well, it's a night out innit.

I was really looking forward to a game of 'Spot the Ordinary People' though. The rumour that the production team changed the plan after the photographs they'd requested of the fans came in is, of course, laughable. In many ways.

Anyway, as they'll all be there tomorrow night in the audience there's still a chance that these fame hungry anoraks could make it on to TV. The programme airs on BBC2 Thursday night at 10pm, I believe. See if you can spot anyone in the audience that might just be a Who fan. Answers via email to So Television.

Monster Poll

A Croydon Massive thanks to the 86 people who voted in the monster poll.

I asked which monsters you thought would be most likely to make a return in series 3. You had up to three votes from the list I gave you. And here are the results with the percentage of people voting for each monster / villain.

1st The Master 83.3% of you chose the master as one of your three choices.
2nd The Ice Warriors 14.3%
3rd = Zygons and Slitheen 13.1%
5th Yeti 6%
6th Zarbi 4.8%
7th Krynoid 3.6%
8th Gastopods 2.4%

Perhaps I should have added the Macra as a choice...

Review - Rose

Casino Royale came out on DVD recently and this presented the great opportunity to do a reboot special of watching both the highly acclaimed Hollywood blockbuster alongside one of the greatest Who reboots ever - Rose.

Both projects were a huge risk for the respective production teams but for very different reasons. For the Bond team it meant changing the scope, tone and nature of the Bond franchise at a time when it was already exceedingly successful, complete with new actor in the main role. For the BBC the Doctor Who revival meant risking precious quids on a programme consigned (and rightly so) to the junk heap over 15 years previously. They'd tried before with the TV Movie in 1996 (see here) but this time they'd secured the brilliant scriptwriter Russell T Davies as Executive Producer and head writer and it's Mr RTD the BBC can thank for crafting the main ideas behind the reboot and for the script of that very first episode.

Of course there are huge differences between a Bond film and a 45 minute Dr Who story. The main storytelling difference in the examples here is that Rose brings the premise of the show to the fore by focusing on the soon to be companion and her interaction with what appears to be a complete nutcase. Contrast that to the TV Movie which tried to tell the audience the premise of the show built up over 26 years in a pre credits talk over by the most exciting man in show business.

Casino Royale took a very different approach by being one of the only Bond films to have character development for Bond himself. In the past it had been best to present the character of 007 as being consistent across movies but by going back to basics and showing the Bond that appears in the novel the audience is given a glimpse into how a blunt thug can gradually learn to be a suave secret agent.

Rose was brilliantly acted. Billie Piper showed more than great promise in this first episode and in Christopher Eccleston the audience were treated to a hard nosed Doctor, just going about his business and saving the World without fuss. It was a great performance and set up the following 12 weeks which would see the actor become one of the greatest Doctors ever. It's a crying shame he left the show so soon.

Russell T Davies added some lovely touches and it's nice to see that one of his greatest little tricks was there in the first episode. I'm referring to the way in which he can write a scene to provoke different reactions in the audience in quick succession. The scene in which The Doctor got strangled by the Auton arm in Rose's flat is a good example. At first you have the humour of the the attack on The Doctor but when it switches to Rose it suddenly becomes scary and these two reactions are paid off in the following scene where the characters talk about the Earth revolving. It's a fantastic pay off which RTD crafts to keep everyone on the edge of their seats.

That scene about the earth revolving also involves a long chat and a long walk presented in just one continuous shot. This is a good moment of clarity during an action packed episode. The Director, Keith Boak took flak from a lot of fans who haven't a clue about TV. Some fans can't distinguish good / bad direction from episodes they like / dislike which means they always like Graham Harper's direction because they like his stories. They dislike Keith Boak's direction because they dislike his episodes. It's a shame because he does a great job in Rose and adds some touches which give the episode a stylish and often cinematic feel.

When it was announced that Doctor Who was coming back it seemed that the greatest difficulty for the production team would be to create a modern version of Who that the fans liked. For Casino Royale the production team ran the risk of alienating casual cinema goers at the expense of making a film the fans were already salivating over.

It seems that both crews got it right. The BBC now have a Who franchise that the fans can't shut up about (does every fan really have to have a blog for Christ's sake!) and the Bond team have created a major hit with an essentially new version of their main character. This represents a line in the sand for both franchises. It marks out quality and standards on a level neither had before.

Doctor Who and James Bond films started in the same era and their popularity and style have often mirrored each other so it's nice to see them both riding high again. Rose was the perfect reboot and led to a number of years of success. I'd be surprised if Casino Royale doesn't mark out the same success for Bond.

"...AND IN AT 26"

Written by Piggy Fizz

If music channel, TMF’s eight hour run down of the ‘100 Sexiest Videos’ last Saturday was a rotten swizz, with something by Pussycat Dolls in poll position but no sign of Junior Jack’s Stupidisco anywhere, some sense of justice was restored when ‘Doctor Who’ was crowned 26th Greatest Drama on C4’s somewhat brisker chart special.

This felt right and proper, far more so than the many occasions when WHO has ranked much higher in list shows celebrating Kids TV, Favourite Telly Characters or even Top Ten Bastards where I recall Davros had a good turn-out, (Can I just make it clear that I tend to video these things and skim-view through them the next morning).

Here, WHO was being measured against legitimate dramas rather than clips of David Jason falling through a pub's open bar, and was voted for by actual programme makers rather than a gestalt of short-term memory viewers who could be bothered to tick an on-line box.

Not that any of this actually matters of course, but as this site has had its share of articles rolling their eyes at the notion of being a WHO fan, it was great, not to mention surprising, to suddenly be reminded of the show’s good points; it’s fun, it’s imaginative, it’s got an infinitely adaptable set-up, well...potentially. It’s made a triumphant return from the dead, it gets kids interested in history, literature and science...well potentially, and is cherished even by people who aren’t obsessed with it. Dare I say it, much of the show’s run has actually been well-written or has at least made a genuine effort to tap into issues and popular culture of the day as the recent ‘About Time’ reference books have demonstrated without having to resort to much tenuous evidence.

The revelation for me was that the very inclusion of WHO at all seemed just fine, entirely lacking in the sore thumb status it might have prompted stuck amongst highly regarded heavyweight productions. The only other dweeb show present was The Prisoner, but then that’s always been lauded as Kafka dressed up as The Avengers.

There was a feeling that had this been a party, WHO would have been warmly welcomed by the other guests rather than sneered at for turning up with a 2-litre bottle of Woodpecker.

If The Naked Civil Servant, Threads, or The Singing Detective are all far more serious and important in the sense that they directly addressed issues, at the same time they all seem to have something in common with WHO in their outlook, attitude or willingness to do something different with the television format, almost as if they’re the sort of programme that might develop out of WHO. Okay, that’s starting to sound pretentious, and I must stress that I don’t regard WHO as anything much beyond a fun, goofy adventure show, but at its best the series has usually attempted to get audiences thinking, even if its original remit to educate kids about school-book subjects soon got lost in a miasma of robots and space monsters.

So, while I’ve still got a very big problem with the idea of the show as an all-consuming hobby, it’s been a genuine pleasure to see it in a fresh context, to remember or perhaps realise for the first time why it’s always been so appealing.

...apparently Torchwood didn't quite make the Top50.

The Saxon Files # 6 (Major Spoiler Time)

MAJOR SPOILER AHEAD - ONLY READ IF YOU WANT TO FIND OUT SOMETHING EXCITING ABOUT SERIES 3

Written by Mr Saxon

Today I can exclusively confirm that the episode "Daleks In Manhattan" and it's subsequent part will contain what is described in the script as "Human Daleks".

I do not profess to know exactly what this reference means and there are several obvious possibilities but we do know that the Daleks in the Eccleston series had a human element.

However, I am willing to repeat some speculation along the lines that these are Daleks in humanoid form. And the way the script describes their movement I'd say that idea has merit.

Unfortunately I didn't see much of the script so I cannot be more specific. Those words leaped off the page though.

Big Finish Limbo #2: The Devil is in the Detail

Written by The Mara

Click here for Big Finish Limbo #1

There is a chasm between intention and actuality. I’m sure readers who intended to enter the competition and didn’t end up doing so, know this very well. Although I had every intention of writing a short story for the competition, and entering it, this presumes I had an idea worth writing up and also happy with the final draft.

Morbius started writing three different stories before he hit on the one that worked. And there were other concepts that didn’t make it to the writing stage because he could already foresee complications. These were usually the result of his ideas being too complex for such a short word count (2500 words – more on that in the next entry). Mine came together a lot more easily than that.

When I started writing my story I did not have blogging the experience in mind, so the actual steps of creation are a bit fuzzy now. What I am definite about is that I had only one idea. I wrote it up. Yet I can piece some of the earlier steps together relatively easily, and a lot of it comes down to me being strategic.

The first thing I knew is that I had to come up with a story that would be different to other entries (although originality is overrated – a well-written story will appear fresh, whereas a collection of new ideas will seem dull if written poorly). It also needed to talk to a modern audience, have a theme greater than itself. It had to fit with the rest of Big Finish’s output. There were two pivotal points to achieving these things; how was I going to approach the competition brief, and what Doctor was I going to use?

Morbius and I discussed the brief first. The premise of each story needed to work from "How the Doctor changed my life". We decided that the use of the determiner ‘my’ would probably lead to a lot of first person narratives in the vein of ‘Love and Monsters’. Both of us like that story, so that wasn’t why we wanted to avoid that style – it was simply that we could see a lot of other entries written like that, as well as the fact that Big Finish work, while it does experiment in narrative style and structure, generally does not come from this perspective. We could also see people taking the brief too literally and writing a piece based on themselves, which we also decided was a no-no. We also decided that we had to be quite creative with the brief as the premise could be applied to every Doctor Who story – he does change people’s lives.

So what could we add that would make this premise a new force rather than a run of the mill story? Me being the morbid soul that I am, eventually picked on the Doctor changing someone’s death. This was not fixed in stone – if I had come up with a different idea that would not fit I would have happily discarded the premise, as it isn’t that brilliant, but it did hold up with my other choices.

The choice of Doctor was easy. The third Doctor is my favourite, and strategically also made sense. In all of the BBC, Big Finish and Virgin output the third Doctor is underrepresented. On the Big Finish site they had example short stories, and none of them came from the third Doctor. If we now take the 110 entries mentioned on Outpost Gallifrey as a representative sample of the 1072 submissions, it would appear that this strategy was not as successful as I thought it would be; there are less submissions for the fifth Doctor, and about the same amount for the first and second incarnations.

Having picked the third Doctor, a lot of things fell into place. I wanted the story earthbound; the short word count means there’s no real space to indulge in world or culture building, and an earthbound story suits the third Doctor just fine. This Doctor has always had stories that reflect on the ‘bigger issues’ in society, and given my political bent, it was quite clear I could write something that would fit both the Doctor and my own need for a social message.

I toyed briefly with global warming, but quite frankly it sucks as a narrative device. That’s probably why it has had little impact on our collective psyche even though we’ve known about it since the days of Kit Pedler. I also toyed with heavy metal poisoning of fish, and the dumping of industrial and nuclear waste in the ocean, both being contemporary with the Pertwee era, and still having resonance with today. But these did not really grab me. I decided to focus on the setting instead, and see if that generated any plot ideas.

I’m pretty pleased with the setting I picked. I am pretty sure, after questioning some of my walking encyclopaedic friends, that it is one that has not been seen in professional Doctor Who output before. Go me. So excuse me for keeping it fairly close to my chest – I may want to use it again. I feel safe enough to drop a hint though; Morbius and I have always discussed the merits of the claustrophobic space and inherent value of a small cast in creating a tension-laden narrative.

At any rate, with the 3rd Doctor, a claustrophobic space, me wanting an earthbound story in the 1970s (although again, I could have moved it if it hadn’t worked as well as it did), and a change of death, I picked the 3rd Doctor favourite of ‘radiation’ as my form of social commentary. I must have still had poisoned fish on my mind, although I should also acknowledge how prominent the Litvinenko Polonium-210 poisoning case was at the time.

So about two weeks into December I am ready to start writing. So I start up the PC, open OpenOffice Writer, crack my knuckles and look at the fresh, unlimited possibilities offered by that big blank rectangle on my monitor…
And can’t write a single word.

My story is set in the real past, and I’m about to write about real issues. I need this story to hang together both historically and scientifically. There is no point writing it all just to find out it is fundamentally flawed - especially if I got it to the point of being publish-worthy.

Damn! After all that strategy, now I had research to do.

Coming soon – Big Finish Limbo #3: The murky land of Wikipedia.

The Saxon Files # 6

Written by Mr Saxon

Oh dear, poor old Britney. Did she hear the news that RTD wanted to fly out to America with the Doctor Who crew just to film celebs like her before or after she shaved all her hair off?

Perhaps the news tipped her over the edge. Or... and I admit I haven't checked the arse-achingly pathetic spoiler section on the OG Forum for this kind of rumour, could it just be part of the build up to hearing that she is going to play the Auton Qwween in the not yet confirmed series 4?

Yours Faithfully,

Master No. Six - Oh no what a giveaway!

Displacement

Sit back, relax and enjoy.

I saw a book in a shop this week all about thinking differently and therefore making your life more successful, less stressful and generally better. The basic point was that people who make a difference to the World start first by making a difference to their own lives. It's really simple too: When they have a good idea they put it into action despite it being daunting. Some people make a huge difference to their own lives without impacting on the World as well which is great too. Then there's us - we like an easy life.

We make no difference to anyone. Not even ourselves.

If you're a committed (not necessarily institutionalised) Who fan the chances are that you will watch every Who story available more than once, read about the programme regularly and spend time discussing it with fellow fruitloops. You might even go to the length of having your own blog and enjoy endlessly correcting your friends by telling them "it's not a blog - it's a site" despite reality.

We're talking years of lives - you don't win them back. There's no 10p when you redeem the bottle and it doesn't work like the Co-Op dividend either. The time is lost. Forever. Gone. Wasted. And you don't have the bottle anymore anyway.

What has begun to worry me more than anything else is that most fans I know have a secondary waste of time, some even more. Perhaps you'll watch Life on Mars, Lost, 24 or perhaps you're gonna have a weekend with that great Bod DVD. I stayed up into the early hours of this morning watching motor racing from America on the internet. My eyes hurt and on the whole it was dull. But I know exactly why I did it.

I tell people I enjoy it. The Life on Mars people tell me they watch it cause they enjoy it, comic fans read comics because they enjoy them. But the truth is they can all be used as displacement activities.

The motor racing was enjoyable because it stopped me from doing the hoovering, tidying my room and all the other things that I tell myself are outlawed on a Friday night. In short, it stopped me from organising my life and taking control. That is the peril of displacement activity.

I read an article by the environmental campaigner George Monbiot this week and he made a similar point regarding conspiracy theorists after he was attacked for saying he did not believe that there was a 9/11 conspiracy. The main thrust of his argument was that conspiracy theories are the political equivalent of displacement activity. Rather than getting involved with real issues and getting out and campaigning, conspiracy nuts can get their kicks safe at home in the knowledge that nobody can ever enter an informed debate with them. They don't leave the house to investigate their claims or campaign for changes. If anything, they just hamper real causes trying to get on the political agenda by taking up precious newsprint.

Reading comics all night, eating fast food, watching every surviving episode of Up Pompeii in one sitting might keep people happy for hours but waste a lifetime. That novel you could have written, that invention you're waiting for somebody else to patent, that boyfriend waiting to discover he's yours. It's all out there but you have to search it out and get it while you can.

[ooh! Hang on "Song for Ten" has just come on - I'll be back in 3 minutes and 29 seconds.]

Perhaps you don't want to achieve anything: professionally, personally, whatever. Fine but at least be man or woman enough to admit to yourself that you waste nearly every moment of your life filling it with Dr Who, Battlestar Gallactica, anything with a bloody spaceship in it, comics, football (come on the Imps!), beer, soaps. Don't use 'enjoyment' as an excuse not to join the human race.

There's another way which, in the long term, might lead to greater satisfaction and more enjoyment.

Give up most of the time you spend on displacement: get a girlfriend, cook a new dish, walk in the countryside during the rain, interact with humanity a bit more, ditch those blogs you sad git. Just get off your fat ass, Jon and do something with your life.

Oh sod it.

The Saxon Files # 5

Written by Mr Saxon

Below are a couple of photos of recent filming in Cardiff - thanks to the Student of Life.
And yes, that bottom pic has The Doctor, Martha and Jack, together.
Looks like this Saxon thing might be prominent - who knows. It could just be a load of old tosh.

Big Finish Limbo #1: In the beginning there was the Word.

Written by The Mara

The people who entered the recent Big Finish short story competition have entered a time of limbo while we all wait for the judges to announce the winner – and the 1071 also-rans. "Limbo" was the term in Roman Catholic theology given to the region between hell or heaven serving as the abode after death of unbaptised infants and the righteous who died before the coming of Christ. Now, while some entrants may feel strung up between heaven and hell, given that the RC church is currently debating whether or not to do away with the concept of limbo altogether, we would be better to take on a more secular definition of the word. According to the speedy, if not terribly brilliant, dictionary.com, definition 3: "an intermediate, transitional, or midway state or place", is far more appropriate.

We’ve all been there. Waiting for exam results, confirmation that we got "the job", the agonising seconds while we wait for someone we’ve asked on a date to say ‘yes’... or ‘no’. Even City boys experience it during the time between the annual round of bonuses being announced, and finding out that theirs is enough to support a developing-world village for a decade. An even more relevant example to this blog would be all the times Doctor Who has been off the air; 1985, 1989 – 1996, 1996 -2005, the seasonal breaks, the rest of the week…

During limbo we need something to pass the time. Rather than take up smoking, I seized the Keeper’s suggestion of writing a few pieces about my individual experiences during the competition as a way of doing just that.

So consider the last 271 words as just the preamble for a collection of musings on the entire competition process. 291.

In the beginning there was the Word, and the Word was ‘competition’. It was closely followed by the words ‘Doctor’, ‘Who’, ‘writing’, ‘short’, ‘story’ and ‘published’. These divine words were uttered by a small-time god. From now on this minor deity will be known as "Morbius". I listened unto Morbius and said, ‘yea verily unto which URL shall I venture forth?’ And Morbius listened unto me and gave his wisdom of the URL and proclaimed; ‘go forth and create!’

It is the strength of the Doctor Who community and their use of word of mouth that has led to Big Finish being inundated with entries. I would never have known of the competition had it not been for Morbius informing me of it. He also would not have known of it without someone else mentioning it to him.

Of course the 1072 submissions (originally 1073, but we have since had an entrant own up to previously published paid fiction work) are just from those who managed to complete and chose to enter. Add a guesstimate of how many people wanted to enter but didn’t, and we end up with an impressive number touched by this competition.

The enthusiasm for the competition was highly visible in face-to-face meets and on fora like Outpost Gallifrey. Conversations about entry details, writing trials and tribulations, open declarations of support and encouragement were sparked by the competition and still continue through this limbo period.

Ultimately this competition has served as a catalyst for a level of enthusiasm, support and encouragement that stands as Testament to the strength of the Doctor Who community at its best.

But now I’ve jumped too far in the future. Also, warm n’ fuzzies don’t make for brilliant blogging; there needs to be more confession and Hail Marys, more ‘insight’ to keep the voyeurs of blog-land happy.

When Morbius told me about the competition, there was never any doubt that I’d write an entry. This comes down to the simple conceit that I do consider myself as a writer. I’m very much the amateur, which is a good thing given the rules for the competition, but I do have a bit of a writing résumé. I’ve had a short story printed in a county English teachers’ journal, a poem printed in a University collection, articles for street press and university rags, and my crowning glory, a non-fiction chapter in a collected work where I got to be printed alongside such luminaries as Francis Bacon, Aristotle, Goethe, Chaucer and Shakespeare… but none of these exploits received remuneration.

While I am conceited enough to think I have a better than average chance of winning, this was not my main motivation for writing. I primarily saw the competition as a writing challenge. Where other people may be driven by the impulse to win, or have a story they felt had to be told in the Whoniverse, or saw this competition as a way of legitimising their fan-fiction output, or did not consider any of these things and just thought writing an entry would be fun, I saw this as a structured method to hone my skills. I had never written any Doctor Who fiction before this short story. In fact, I never wrote any science fiction either; my usual areas of fiction writing are fantasy, and things that can be amorphously grouped under ‘modern fiction’. So the tingle of doing something new, added to the tingle of possible publication and ‘winning’, meant that before I even put finger to keyboard I was already giddy with excitement… and hassling the rest of my fandom associates to discover who else was writing and thus being conferred the weird status of both competitor and comrade.

So! I sat down at my keyboard, after discovering three comrade-competitors, after reading the rules and –

In the beginning there was the Word, and the Word was ‘Hell!’ It was closely followed by other words, and became a question; ‘What the hell do I write?’

Coming soon – Big Finish Limbo #2: The Devil is in the Detail.

Poll # 2

If you had a choice of either sitting down to a new episode of Sarah Jane or a new episode of Torchwood it seems that a mega 77.8 % of you would watch The Sarah Jane Adventures live.

Love & Croydon - A Pub Crawl

Many thanks to all those lonely hearts who took part in the pub crawl yesterday. I don't think a single one of us found love but it wasn't due to the lack of trying - well no more than normal anyway.

For the record: 8 people strutted their stuff and a mega 1 came from Croydon (Me!)

Poll Results # 1

When do you want the new series of Dr Who to be broadcast?

A resounding and massive 100% said the sooner the better. March 24th has been touted as a possible air date for several weeks and every last one of you voted for that date.

The near traditional Easter Saturday launch date is moribund as far as you seem to be concerned.

A Croydon Massive of 10 people took part in the vote

My First Time # 1

Name: The Mara
Gender: ♀
First Story: Talons of Weng Chiang
Approximate Date: September 1996.
Age: As old as nightmares, or you can do the math yourself.

When the Keeper asked if I would set the ball rolling on submitting guilty confessions of 'My First Time', I have to admit that I had to make sure that, yes, he was talking about losing my Doctor Who virginity and not that other kind. Yet for me there is a clear connection between the two concepts.

Of course for many of you the analogy between sex and Doctor Who does not hold - given you can clearly remember that your first time was at the age of six or seven, if it were sex we were talking about we'd have to have called in Social Services because your parents were clearly abusing you or letting you be abused.

Then again, my mother obviously considered Doctor Who some form of child abuse, as it was banned in my house. She was, and still is, the type of mother who only allowed soft drink and chocolate on your birthday, bought educational presents, and sent you off to school with brown bread sandwiches with grated cheese and sultanas in it. So my early experiences of Doctor Who are exactly like my early experiences of sex; both were reduced in my existence to occasional glances at books or television on the topic, but never knowing what either was really about. I knew there was a Timelord that changed shape and there was a police box involved. I knew that the 'scream' at the beginning of the end credits during the Tom Baker era made me jump, and I have a vague recollection of a yellow vintage car on the edge of a mound of gravel. But I never saw a complete episode, let alone a complete story.

It is probably telling that I lost my Doctor Who virginity a good four years after that other sort. And it still involved sex. Like a social disease, I had Doctor Who 'passed on' to me by my boyfriend. Like any social disease, there was a spectrum of ways he could approach the knowledge of him being a carrier; with the two extremes being that he could have told me at the very beginning and run the risk that I might turn around and say 'I'm sorry, I just don't think my feelings for you are strong enough to overcome the fact you're infected with Doctor Who', or he could have been one of those ones who kept his disease completely hidden. Watch the new BBC remake of Dracula, if you need an example for why that is always a bad idea.

In the end it was somewhere in the middle. He told me early on that he ‘liked Doctor Who'. The evidence that this was an understatement was the complete VHS collection with hand typed labels and extant Target novelisation collection in his bedroom. Oh, and the porcelain TARDIS moneybox and Dapol figurines of the 7th Doctor and a Cyberman. I always stuck these in compromising positions and, I found out later to my mortification, were also always tidied up by his mother.

But the time-coded copies of ‘The Ice Warriors’ were turned off as soon as I arrived. Doctor Who had been partitioned off; it was present, but never really talked about. Until I pressed him about it and he eventually relented, starting my education with the classic of Doctor Who 'The Talons of Weng Chiang'.

Bad Move.

Losing one's virginity often involves a lot of confusion, surprise, disappointment and fear. I was confused by the simultaneous slowness and unfathomable plotting, surprised when I was shown the silly rat (and yes, the sex analogy works very well here), disappointed in that this was supposed to be the highlight of Doctor Who, and fearful that a major part of my partner's life was something I was never going to understand. Like first time sex where expectations have been built up too high, Talons was an utter let down.

But just like sex, one moves past the first time, knowing that it just has to get better. And Doctor Who did get better for me, although not through watching 'classics' or the boyfriend’s personal favourites. For those of you who watched Doctor Who when it was on, even if you did not begin on 23rd November 1963, you did watch stories pretty much in order until you got hooked and decided to go looking for more fixes (like the sex addicts you are). There is a reason this works, and jumping to random stories does not.

So my advice to the experienced that wish to embark on deflowering Old Series Doctor Who virgins of an adult age is to start slow and work with missionary for a while before trying the seventh position of the Perfumed Garden. Use ‘Rose’ and the rest of the new series as foreplay. When the time is right to move to the next base, pick an Old Series story with a natural introductory bit. Start with colour, because it's 'safer' than black and white. In other words, start with ‘Spearhead From Space’.