A few years ago – when I was partial to a roll-up – I’d spend my cigarette breaks moaning to a former colleague about Doctor Who.
It wasn’t for me. It was an intense disappointment. That bloke Russell T Davies liked comedy more than sci-fi. He might have said he loved Doctor Who, but as far as I could see he didn’t get it like I did. If I’d met him I’d have told him. And maybe that’s why he and his cohort turned me down for an interview so unceremoniously.
He gave the BBC National Orchestra of Wales way too much air time. There could be a lot less music. Everybody should stop running around. Why was it I couldn’t understand anything of what had happened when the final credits rolled? Why the hell couldn’t he write something especially for me? It wasn’t like I hadn’t remained faithful to the cause. Yes, really. Why had he let me down? I had been so excited when it was announced it was coming back.
There were times when I wondered whether that former colleague had a hotter line to the impenetrable offices of Russell T Davies and Julie Gardner than I perceived my blog had.
And then Steven Moffat wrote that thing with the statues. Blinking suddenly became dangerous. Those who dared to dream stopped for a breath. Could this bloke Moffat be the answer?
I’ve waxed lyrical before about his efforts in the last season of Doctor Who. The breath I drew when I watched his first story was exhaled when I quickly realised the Scottish bloke with the curly hair wasn’t the one-hit wonder I worried he might be.
Sure. His first season was subject to quite a bit of running around. And really, the Blu-Ray I purchased has such shocking examples of poor post-production audio mixes I’d hesitate from purchasing another set unless I’d received personal assurances such ‘issues’ had been ironed out. (Somebody .. somewhere .. sort that particular problem out, will you?)
But. His second season is .. basing my opinion on the season opener at least .. so incredibly close to how I demand my Doctor Who to be as to make me want to stop him in his tracks the next time I see him outside BBC Television Centre and plant a smacker on the man’s lips. It’s dark. It’s exciting. It’s made me draw breath.
Just so we’re clear … this (finally) is how I expected, how I hoped present day Doctor Who to be. If you haven’t seen it yet, then you must.
Thank you Mr Moffat. I really appreciate your efforts. Yours too Mr Wenger. And yours Ms Willis. You and your team have done very well.
Thank. God. It’s taken a while. But we’re there.
From this moment on, you SO don’t need any PR. Ditch them. Bin them. Fire them. They’re history.
Now then. When exactly are you planning on bringing back Tegan?