almostwitty: (Default)
In our drive to reduce our possessions and be able to see things like walls and floors in our tiny 2-bed flat, it was gently pointed out to me that I might want to consider getting rid of my precious collection of Doctor Who Magazines. Which have been left to rest covered in dust in a distant corner of the living room.

However, unable to countenance such a vile piece of vandalism without at least the possibility of reading them again someday, I looked on the Internet to see if any kind souls had digitised them.

And lo and behold, a Russian site has PDF copies of what appears to be every single edition of Doctor Who Magazine to the end of 2016! Perfecto!

Except, foolishly, I wasn't browsing in incognito mode. Thus by the end of the day, every banner advert was kindly telling me that I could find Hot! Russian! Ladies! through their website. I wonder what their stance on the UNIT dating controversy would be...

Next step: to tackle the six boxes of Empire magazine which have been preserved in a distant cupboard...
almostwitty: (monkey)

In our drive to reduce our possessions and be able to see things like walls and floors in our tiny 2-bed flat, it was gently pointed out to me that I might want to consider getting rid of my precious collection of Doctor Who Magazines. Which have been left to rest covered in dust in a distant corner of the living room.

However, unable to countenance such a vile piece of vandalism without at least the possibility of reading them again someday, I looked on the Internet to see if any kind souls had digitised them.

And lo and behold, a Russian site has PDF copies of what appears to be every single edition of Doctor Who Magazine to the end of 2016! Perfecto!

Except, foolishly, I wasn’t browsing in incognito mode. Thus by the end of the day, every banner advert was kindly telling me that I could find Hot! Russian! Ladies! through their website. I wonder what their stance on the UNIT dating controversy would be…

Next step: to tackle the six boxes of Empire magazine which have been preserved in a distant cupboard…

(It should be noted that I haven’t seen a new episode of Doctor Who for two years… The delights of Hell Bent taunt me still…)

Mirrored from almost witty.

almostwitty: (monkey)

TARDIS power isolator

After all, any device that, when blown up, destroys the universe should be treated with care.

So it’s very good to see the BBC are taking their responsibilities very seriously.

(Taken courtesy of the BBC, who invited me to a preview of their actual TARDIS studio tour, which you can now take in Cardiff till the end of August.)

Mirrored from almost witty.

almostwitty: (monkey)

A poster reminding BBC staff about the closure of BBC Television CentreAnyone who loves Britain’s televisual heritage will not have let the closure of BBC Television Centre go by without at least one sad thought of glorious days gone by, lamenting how the creative engine that kept the BBC going will now surely be lost, and how they will no longer find a home or see their friends and colleagues at the bar.

Forgive me for interrupting the nostalgia fest – and none of this is meant to dismiss the great work that went on there – but the two BBC chat’n'compilation programmes that look back at the great days of Television Centre have reminded me of one thing:

As a current BBC employee, there is no way I – or many people I know – would have even had a chance of a job there back in the 1970s. That’s not down to my skills or experience, but simply because my face would not have fit. The two programmes that looked back at Television Centre didn’t feature any non-white people on its various panels, and hardly any women compared to today’s television schedules. What, no room for Floella Benjamin or Lenny Henry on the comfy sofa?

To be fair, this in itself was symptomatic of 1960s/70s Britain, an era where any thought of diversity (by today’s definition) was a sci-fi dream as alien as anything from Doctor Who, but in the mass rose-tinted view of a simpler life where everyone was friends with everyone else, this seems to have been forgotten.

A similar delusion seems to have befallen some people as they realise our television heroes back then were as flawed as their British society counterparts. It’s apparently a shocking revelation in a new Doctor Who behind-the-scenes expose book (ironically written by the man who directed/produced one of the Television Centre tribute shows) that William Hartnell was racist, and senior members of the production team would sometimes use their oblique power of promise to extract sexual favours from fans.

Forgive me if I’m not shocked at the thought that a white British man in his 60s in the 1960s would not have been entirely comfortable with people from other races. Or that the casting couch phenomenon was alive and well in 1980s/90s Britain. As the Seventh Doctor once said in one of the spin-off novels: “Absolute power corrupts absolutely”.

None of this is written to denigrate the creative genius that created moments of joy and laughter for millions of people (or indeed the distress of those on the wrong end of the power equation), but let’s not pretend it didn’t happen. And isn’t happening now.

Mirrored from almost witty.

almostwitty: (monkey)

Asylum of the Daleks – fantastic great episode, and couldn’t sleep afterwards. But I can’t help thinking Moffat’s written a great mainstream-friendly episode that would have been better placed in the 2013 50th anniversary season instead.

 

Spoilers ahead! )

Mirrored from almost witty.

 

almostwitty: (Default)
My dearest darling wife surprised me the other day, by turning Alex into the Fifth Doctor. And it's not even Halloween!

Alex as the Fifth Doctor

She's written a comprehensive guide on how you too can do this for/ to your child!




almostwitty: (Default)
From Popbitch:

"Saw Christopher Eccleston at a wedding last weekend. He was totally non-celeb like, blending into the fun of the day. He had a kick about with some kids and accidently flattened someone's three year old. Then my mate said he was at the portable toilet urinals about to piss when Christopher came in strode up to the spare middle urinal and asked 'Room for a little one?'. Cue stage fright for my poor mate who stood awkwardly, then hastly zipped up and retreated."
almostwitty: (Default)
One of my friends is cooking Karen Gillan's cheese for dinner tonight. Camembert, apparently. UPDATE: and onion rings previously owned by John Barrowman.

Yeah, touch me ... ;)

(My head is now filled with visions of Amy Pond screaming EAT MY CHEESE! I'm not even going to talk about rings and John Barrowman in the same sentence...)
almostwitty: (evil)

SPOILERS!

Although I don’t know how I’m going to be able to concentrate on future Doctor Who scripts from Stephen Moffat AND keep a baby amused and looked after…

 

SPOILERS! )

Mirrored from almost witty.

almostwitty: (Default)
Airing tonight on BBC One... Squee!

almostwitty: (evil)

One of the things I love is finding out the minutiae, the inside notes behind a great production. I have actually listened to DVD commentaries, and one of my favourite books is Russell T Davies’ The Writer’s Tale – it’s like reading his blog while he was writing and producing Doctor Who.

Oddly, no similar book has been written about that other great sci-fi franchise, Star Trek. At least, until Michael Piller wrote a book about the writing of the last Next Generation Star Trek film, Insurrection – but the book never saw the light of day. Now, thanks to the Internet, it’s available if you’re willing to go against the wishes of Piller’s family.

As you can imagine, there’s been a bit of analysis over the book, which most people will find deathly dull, but I found endlessly fascinating.

Thanks to foomandoonian for the tip-off!

Mirrored from almost witty.

almostwitty: (Default)
It's the perfect Doctor Who day:



(via David Bishop)
almostwitty: (blank)

Geoff Marshall with some dude

Geoff Marshall with some dude

It was all Geoff’s idea, Yer Honour…

Y’see, he’d recently come back to the BBC after two years in America fraternising with our American cousins – and even worse, American ACTORS. And it had all rubbed off a bit on him. The endless video posts, the sheer confidence in walking up to strangers – and yet still enthusing about Doctor Who, music and the Pet Shop Boys.

He then told me that he knew that David Tennant was going to be on BBC Breakfast on 31 December, and he was determined to get an autograph with him – by essentially lurking down the labyrinthe corridors of BBC Television Centre until he bumped into him. But he needed some help. A wingman, to help pass the time. Did I want to do it?

Strange as it may seem, I didn’t jump at the chance. Ever since I started working professionally within the media industry I’ve never asked for an autograph – mostly because you can’t interrupt an interview with Ben Elton, Alicia Silverstone or Glenn Close to ask for an autograph. That just wouldn’t do. Plus, I’m usually hyperaware that in the highly unlikely event of any problems, my face will be the ones that the security guards remember for reasons I’ll go into in another post … Although when I was younger, I’d hang around stage doors (well, it was double Physical Education on Wednesdays) and I managed to co-opt Stephen Fry into saving my University projects. Twice.

This time, I reasoned, I wouldn’t be there for work, and besides, it’s David Tennant. The night before he hands over the TARDIS keys. So I brushed up on the do’s and don’t of approaching a celebrity and waited…

The next morning, I arrived at the ye early time of 8am, and joined Geoff thereafter as we kept moving from point to point on the hear-out for a Scottish accent, while trying to avoid the cleaners who kept asking if we knew where we were going.

And then we went back into main reception – where usually only taxi drivers and runners are – and there he was. Already patiently signing autographs for a few kids, while a harassed BBC runner hovered behind him, eager to move him into his warm dressing room. But oh no, we were between him and the main doors. Geoff asked him whether he could stop now or on the way back, and David, being the understanding man he is, said he’d be a while in the studio and best to do it now.

Geoff managed to persuade him for a photograph. Unfortunately, it was an iPhone – and have you ever tried taking a pic on an iPhone in a hurry when you’ve never used one before? Your fingers are everywhere except where they need to be! So after three blurred shots of Geoff with David Tennant, he made his apologies and ran into the studio.

Throughout it all, David seemed slightly stressed – well, you would be if you’re dashing into a TV studio to address the nation – but a thoroughly decent chap nice enough to stop for autographs on a cold Thursday morning when he didn’t have to.

Anyway, that’s enough from me. Watch Geoff’s video of this momentous occasion (via Facebook alas!)…

Mirrored from almost witty.

almostwitty: (Default)

Geoff Marshall with some dude

Geoff Marshall with some dude

It was all Geoff’s idea, Yer Honour…

Y’see, he’d recently come back to the BBC after two years in America fraternising with our American cousins – and even worse, American ACTORS. And it had all rubbed off a bit on him. The endless video posts, the sheer confidence in walking up to strangers – and yet still enthusing about Doctor Who, music and the Pet Shop Boys.

He then told me that he knew that David Tennant was going to be on BBC Breakfast on 31 December, and he was determined to get an autograph with him – by essentially lurking down the labyrinthe corridors of BBC Television Centre until he bumped into him. But he needed some help. A wingman, to help pass the time. Did I want to do it?

Strange as it may seem, I didn’t jump at the chance. Ever since I started working professionally within the media industry I’ve never asked for an autograph – mostly because you can’t interrupt an interview with Ben Elton, Alicia Silverstone or Glenn Close to ask for an autograph. That just wouldn’t do. Plus, I’m usually hyperaware that in the highly unlikely event of any problems, my face will be the ones that the security guards remember for reasons I’ll go into in another post … Although when I was younger, I’d hang around stage doors (well, it was double Physical Education on Wednesdays) and I managed to co-opt Stephen Fry into saving my University projects. Twice.

This time, I reasoned, I wouldn’t be there for work, and besides, it’s David Tennant. The night before he hands over the TARDIS keys. So I brushed up on the do’s and don’t of approaching a celebrity and waited…

The next morning, I arrived at the ye early time of 8am, and joined Geoff thereafter as we kept moving from point to point on the hear-out for a Scottish accent, while trying to avoid the cleaners who kept asking if we knew where we were going.

And then we went back into main reception – where usually only taxi drivers and runners are – and there he was. Already patiently signing autographs for a few kids, while a harassed BBC runner hovered behind him, eager to move him into his warm dressing room. But oh no, we were between him and the main doors. Geoff asked him whether he could stop now or on the way back, and David, being the understanding man he is, said he’d be a while in the studio and best to do it now.

Geoff managed to persuade him for a photograph. Unfortunately, it was an iPhone – and have you ever tried taking a pic on an iPhone in a hurry when you’ve never used one before? Your fingers are everywhere except where they need to be! So after three blurred shots of Geoff with David Tennant, he made his apologies and ran into the studio.

Throughout it all, David seemed slightly stressed – well, you would be if you’re dashing into a TV studio to address the nation – but a thoroughly decent chap nice enough to stop for autographs on a cold Thursday morning when he didn’t have to.

Anyway, that’s enough from me. Watch Geoff’s video of this momentous occasion (via Facebook alas!)…

Mirrored from almost witty.

almostwitty: (Default)

The fab EPIC trailer for the new series of Doctor Who, Spring 2010.

The trailer’s not pathetic. I am. because:

  • There were tears in my eye at the LOGO. The fricking LOGO.
  • Thanks to new BBC technologies, I can now finally embed a bit of Doctor Who content on my website. There’s absolutely no need to – after all, every Doctor Who fan knows where to go to get the new trailer. Or I could just send you a link. Instead, I am making a post simply to embed a piece of content that’s avaialble everywhere else. Go me.

Mirrored from almost witty.

almostwitty: (Default)

Wow. Just Wow. Definitely a programme for the fans – as, in many ways, it ought to be. Although even for the fans, the writing was marvellous. It fooled me, feigning a left hook then throwing a right punch. And the way that Matt Smith turned out to be a bad dream…

Fortunately, I think there’s just enough information for the non-fans to get it, although perhaps not the vast epic scale of it.

Jumbled spoilery thoughts after the break….

Read the rest of this entry »

Mirrored from almost witty.

almostwitty: (Default)

Wow. Just Wow. Definitely a programme for the fans – as, in many ways, it ought to be. Although even for the fans, the writing was marvellous. It fooled me, feigning a left hook then throwing a right punch. And the way that Matt Smith turned out to be a bad dream…

Fortunately, I think there’s just enough information for the non-fans to get it, although perhaps not the vast epic scale of it.

Jumbled spoilery thoughts after the break….

Read the rest of this entry »

Mirrored from almost witty.

almostwitty: (Default)

stumbling across Edinburgh’s Hogmanay celebrations with my mates including Sheff01, watching a couple of Turkish guys begging every woman around them for a kiss, and not getting any. Then again, I wasn’t getting any kisses either.

The best moment though, was coming up to the police barriers – due to sheer numbers, you had to have a special ticket to be allowed into the street celebrations – and watching one woman screaming “I’m pregnant! Let me through!”. So eventually the barriers were raised, and a lady with a large stomach was let through. Once she was past the policemen and the barriers, she lifted her shirt to reveal a six-pack of beers – she pulled one out, opened it, and went on her merry way.

At the stroke of midnight, the fireworks were unleashed over Edinburgh Castle – followed by the fine ash/gunpoweder glittering all our faces. Which beats the year after, when I had to duck and cover from hundreds of bottles thrown over Westminster Bridge on December 31, 2000.

Never mind all that, what you really want to know is what Doctor Who and sci-fi writers (including Russell T Davies, Steven Moffatt were doing on Millennium Eve

Mirrored from almost witty.

almostwitty: (Default)

stumbling across Edinburgh’s Hogmanay celebrations with my mates including Sheff01, watching a couple of Turkish guys begging every woman around them for a kiss, and not getting any. Then again, I wasn’t getting any kisses either.

The best moment though, was coming up to the police barriers – due to sheer numbers, you had to have a special ticket to be allowed into the street celebrations – and watching one woman screaming “I’m pregnant! Let me through!”. So eventually the barriers were raised, and a lady with a large stomach was let through. Once she was past the policemen and the barriers, she lifted her shirt to reveal a six-pack of beers – she pulled one out, opened it, and went on her merry way.

At the stroke of midnight, the fireworks were unleashed over Edinburgh Castle – followed by the fine ash/gunpoweder glittering all our faces. Which beats the year after, when I had to duck and cover from hundreds of bottles thrown over Westminster Bridge on December 31, 2000.

Never mind all that, what you really want to know is what Doctor Who and sci-fi writers (including Russell T Davies, Steven Moffatt were doing on Millennium Eve

Mirrored from almost witty.

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