Ooh.

Ooh. The new Doctor Who is coming soon. Awesome. I’ve just been through all the David Tennant box sets , and they all rocked. The Blink episode was especially good, I see from the promos they’re bringing back those spooky weeping angels (and hopefully, Carey Mulligan), great too, was the episode with the French aristocrat chick through the fireplace, with the creepy clockwork guys.

I recently watched the very first four episodes ever, with William Hartnell. He was my first Doctor & I do remember watching it the very first day it screened ever. I remember lots about the initial episode, I don’t remember any the subsequent 3 involving the Doctor gifting fire to (remarkably well groomed and articulate) cavemen. But it’s surprising how much fits with the backstory that was later constructed around the character.

While Hartnell was my first, my favourite was Patrick Troughton. And those yetis.

Word from those with friends in the UK is highly favourable for Matt Smith, the new Doctor. I saw him in those Phillip Pullman adaptations that also starred Billie Piper (coincidence?), I wasn’t impressed. I’m hoping first impressions were wrong.

I presume the series’ regulars & spinoffs will continue their rotation through the plotlines: Rose Tyler, Capt Jack, Sarah-Jane, Martha & the one whose name briefly escapes me, the two survivoring members of the Torchwood team (that last miniseries with the abducted kids was brutal)... maybe even Bernard Cribbins.

I still remember him reading Paddington Bear stories on Jackanory. They should totally bring him back.

I’m sure they will. These guys are all on to a good thing. And it occurs to me that what with Torchwood and all, and all the Welsh actors in bit & guest parts throughout, and panoramic shots of metropolitan Cardiff (heh), these things are to Wales what Xena & Hercules were to New Zealand.

Torchwood is much better since they eliminated the creepier members of the team a season or so back, and got over trying to be a bisexual soft porn show on the side. Really guys, we didn’t want to even think about some of those characters having sex, let alone see it.

Fittingly, over in another timeslot, possibly on an alternate channel, either Denise van Outen, or the other one who looks very similar, but has black hair, told Capt Jack he should get back in his Tardis, as they bickered over the performance of one hapless would-be Joseph on something called Any Dream Will Do.

This show has Capt Jack, Graeme Norton, and Lord Andrew Lloyd Webber. It sounds unlikely even before you throw in the wannabee West End stars, some of whom to be charitable, are at the level of good karaoke singers. But this show is gripping, in the same way that Dancing with the Stars was.

Each week, in an act that must be right up there in the Reality TV Ritual Humiliation stakes, the loser who will not be Joseph. Ever. Has his technicolour coat removed by his remaining “brothers”, while they sing a dirgy song. It never fails to make me laugh in an uncharitable fashion. And on that, I haven’t been watching Masterchef regularly, but I caught the end of one & they have really missed an opportunity to do something similarly humiliating to their losers, like ritually stripping them of their aprons. Or something. Possibly involving paring knives.

I have no idea who will be Joseph, and neither do I care, the ride is more important than the destination. I’ve never seen any version of the show, but it strikes me if a couple of guys like Jason Donovan & Philip Schofield can make a smash hit of it, how hard could the role be? No offence to those guys, for all I know they had extensive musical stage experience.

It’s all about the destination with Antiques Roadshow though, but I don’t mean the diverse historical settings. To me, they’re just a bunch of thumb sized farm animals crudely carved from shiny rocks in a sellotape tin, which the owner’s Great-Gran used to get out for her to play with, until the guy says “Faberge”, and estimates an auction value of mortgage eliminating proportion. The money shot.

Conversely, there’s great drama to be had from an expert waxing gleefully on a priceless find, only to turn it over/open a drawer & immediately gasp, “Oh, it’s a fake. How much did you pay for it again?” Apparently they do not examine these pieces until the moment the camera rolls. Mind you, some of these “fakes” have eye-watering values too.

I love that shit. I checked out the similarly themed Cash in the Attic, but it’s drawn out & not enough Faberge farm animals turn up, and they LIE! They do not check out the attic.

And cripes, some of those collectables are heinously ugly.

I’ve dutifully tuned in to The Pacific. It hasn’t been as grisly as I expected. Not from this side of the screen. I’ve yet to see Saving Private Ryan, and I missed all but the last episodes of Band of Brothers, so I have nothing to benchmark this against. I’m real glad I wasn’t there. And where during all this, were the Solomon Islanders? Maybe we’ll find out as the series progresses.

Honourable mention now goes to the documentary about Gerry Anderson & Thunderbirds. Holy hell, Sylvia Anderson was the spitting image of Lady Penelope. Somewhere, in a box, in a cupboard at my mum’s, are highly prized Dinky models of: Lady P’s pink Roller, license plate FAB1, complete with firing missile, Penny herself, and Parker (“You wang, M’lady?”); Thunderbird 2, complete with pod bearing Thunderbird 4. One of the landing legs is broken, and it has a hand painted “Slade” emblazoned in Red Dulux paint on each side; Spectrum SPV and APV vehicles (I only remember that SPV stood for Spectrum Pursuit Vehicle), with firing missiles & Capt Scarlet; and a slightly worse for wear Beatles Yellow Submarine(no missile or torpedoes).

There once was also a James Bond Aston Martin, circa Goldfinger, with the obligatory missile, rear bullet shield, and ejector seat, complete with a little Korean ejectee. I don’t know what became of that one. Oh yeah, and a Diamonds Are Forever Moon Buggy. The memories flood back.

Any of these things would make starring appearances at any Antiques Roadshow if they hadn’t perhaps been played with (and sometimes modified) by children, and if they were still in their original packing, and indeed, still had their missiles, and Ringo Starrs. I urge parents to exercise some psychic forethought & buy two of any toy that might be remotely collectable in future, and keep one pristine and unpacked, possibly in the attic, safe from the Cash in the Attic team.

It was interesting to note that the puppets in Thunderbirds were more animate than the live actors in Anderson’s later ventures; UFO & Space 1999 (guffaw). Although UFO holds a place dear in our hearts for Gabrielle Drake, her metallic purple wig, see through futuristic “military” uniform, and pert profile in her silhouette undressing scenes.

Ooh.