Doctor Who Watch #5

Episode Six: The Doctor's Daughter by Some Useless Cunt

Oh, it's a short review this week. Not because I'm feeling lazy (Honest!) but because I cannot think of anything to say about this episode other than the following:

UTTER TRIPE.

It could have been one of the best episodes ever. It certainly has one of the best (and most ingriguing) titles ever. I was expecting something along the lines of Dalek - a powerful, landmark episode, introducing newer audiences to some of the folklore of 'classic' Doctor Who.

What we got instead was an utter embarrassment.

Martha - Seriously, what was she for? Why not just send her home at the end of the last episode if all you were going to use her for was as part of Doctor Who's worst-ever death scenes?

The Hath - What? Seriously, WHAT?! The most awful design ever. And I'm including the chocolate fireplace. And hoovers without balls on which to pivot, as James Dyson suggests. An awful, horrible, embarrassing design.

That Whole Numbers Thing - For such a big build-up, the reveal was a bigger letdown than me in bed. What the fuck was the point?

Jenny - YAWN! Can't shake the feeling that she's destined to be the New Assistant at some point. It's at that point I will stop watching. I wish when they'd shot her, she had actually died. In real life. And while we're on that... How did she come back to life exactly? She surely didn't regenerate, because she looked the bloody same? Very confusing, but I really don't care enough to worry about it...

The stuff with the Doctor, Donna and Jenny - all trying to come to terms with the fact that he was a father - was very good. But there was nowhere near enough of it. If it had been a Boom Town episode - the three of them sat round debating morals and actually engaging in proper conversation - it could have been amazing. Shoved next to a ridiculous plot about a ridiculous war between ridiculous characters... It's the quite possibly the worst episode I've ever seen. Not just of Doctor Who, but of ANYTHING.

Total Score: ONE out of TEN

How Far We've Come

When Kirbymoreside first passed her driving test, we went everywhere together. Pretty much every weekend, Kirsty and my good shelf would bundle into her car (Percy) and drive around. Usually to the beautiful countryside village of Ainsford, for a mess around by the stream and a small beverage in The Plough. (I like to live my life as if I'm in an episode of Last Of The Summer Wine).

Sometimes we'd head to the coast for days of nearly drowning and nearly getting kidnapped by coffee-carrying kiddie-fiddlers. "Would you like to come back to mine to dry off?" Erm… Probably not so much, thanks. I could have been the new Maddie.

Other times we'd just head to the Wilson residence and twat around in the local park. Or eat chips. Or both.

The soundtrack to that summer was Matchbox Twenty. I'd just seen them at a overly shit Bon Jovi concert, and they were without doubt the best part of that day. I was determined to inflict their songs on as many people as possible. Luckily Kirsty was a huge fan too. Everywhere we went, and Percy went, Matchbox Twenty went too. Happy times. Life was less confusing that summer. Nothing to worry about other than having fun. No jobs, no ties, no responsibilities. Before the days of relationships and heartbreak. A more innocent, hopeful (maybe naïve) time. Just me, Kirsty, Percy and Matchbox Twenty.

Fast-forward seven years, and times have changed. Massively. We both have fairly tough and demanding jobs. We both know what it's like to have loved and lost. Percy has been replaced by a new model called Orlando. Innocence, hopefulness gone… But probably still a bit naïve. And the thought of us spending just one weekend driving around together, let alone a whole summer's worth, is pretty much unthinkable, such are our lives now.

But one thing remains: Our love of Matchbox Twenty.

Last Thursday, we went to Wembley to see them. I met up at the O2 with Kirsty and Alex, a rather nice young gent from her watering hole (that's not code) who was coming with us. We went in search of cocktails, and stumbled upon Frankie & Benny's.

Several Strawberry/Champagne creations were downed, and I think the Passion Fruit may have put in an appearance at some point. Conversations ranged from work, to epilepsy, to Heath Ledger, to Jacuzzis, to Alex being a complete lightweight (Bed by 8pm?! What's wrong with you man?!) and obviously recalled some of the old favourites: Making someone cry in Year 10 English, the 'I'm Not Going Home Without My Shoes' incident… The usual stories!

(No mention of the time I was mugged. Kirsty must have been trying not to humiliate me too much in front of this person I'd only just met! Bless her…)

By the time we left, several hours later, I think we were all quite tipsy. We staggered towards the Jubilee Line, and the Rush Hour squeeze. We all got seats. And as an extra-special bonus, I got a seat AND a woman's anus in my face. Pleasant. God bless the Rush Hour!

After what seemed like an eternity staring at this woman's vast behind, we got off the train at Wembley and headed towards the Arena. Yay! Much excitement, and a little bit of pre-cum!

A few more drinks seemed to find their way into our hands as we watched the support act. Headway. They were REALLY good! It's not often I enjoy a support act. The only support act I've ever REALLY enjoyed were Matchbox Twenty themselves at THAT hideous gig in Milton Keynes with Bon Jovi. So yes… Headway. Buy their EP if you like Maroon 5 or The Calling. That's the plug over with. If they become huge, I can take a little portion of the credit. Maybe the royalties too, but I might have to discuss that with them. Headway. Yes. They're good.

We amused ourselves with a bit of lesbian-baiting, the gentle mocking of some foreigners, and a few more piss-weak beers. I went to the toilet forty-three and a half times. And then it was time for them to begin.

"Hello… Hello…"

They opened with one of my all-time favourites – How Far We've Come. It's a great, punch-the-air, life-affirming, pop-rock song, but it really does make me think sometimes. Makes me think just how far we HAVE come. Not sure if that's a good thing or not. I think too much.

Alex, Kirsty and my pretty self cheered and sang as if our sole mission was just to break our vocal chords. And I don't think we stopped for the whole night. Word for word shouted back at them with such passion; always moving and uplifting when you are in a room-full of people all doing the same, all feeling the same.

There were so many highlights. I have to mention Back 2 Good though. God, that song. That song.

"Everyone here is wondering what it's like to be with somebody else,

And everyone here's to blame,

Everyone here gets caught up in the pleasure and the pain."

The only thing stopping me blubbing like a baby was the thought of Kirsty sidelining the 'I'm Not Going Home Without My Shoes' story in favour of 'Remember The Time You Cried Your Eyes Out In Public Like A Fucking Nancy?'

Fantastically moving, as was my Matchbox Twenty Theme Song: Hand Me Down. A beautiful song from their third album that seemed to sum up an entire year of my life. Granted, as a theme song, it's not as wonderful at Tracey by The Cuff Links, but it means something to me and was great to hear it live.

Other major highlights were If You're Gone, Could I Be You, Long Day…

And Bright Lights. Like the Tom McRae song of the same name, a hopeful little ditty about escape and dreams. And love. And all the usual things I look for in a song. Fantastic.

As I say, the gig was just perfect, and it was nice to go somewhere other than the Turnpike with Kirsty. It was certainly in my Top Five Gigs Of All-Time… And probably one of the best nights I've ever had.

"While you were sleeping,

I was listening to the radio

And wondering what you're dreaming

When it came to mind that I didn't care…"

Doctor Who Watch #4

Episode Four/Five: The Sontaran Stratagem/The Poison Sky by Helen Raynor

Given that this script was penned by the same woman responsible for the most atrocious episodes since Love & Monsters, I didn’t have very high hopes.

Her offensive Dalek episodes from last year rank among the very few episodes of Doctor Who I can’t stand. They were abysmal, and even though a former gentleman caller of mine was in it (!) I still find myself unable to watch it again when ploughing through the Box Set. So imagine my surprise when I actually start enjoying this two-parter. More than enjoying it, LOVING it!

Okay, so Martha just seems a bit redundant now. Compared to Donna, she seems like such a waste of screen time. (Which is a shame, because I think Freema Whatshername is actually quite likeable). So then to have TWO Martha’s running around… Well, that was just a silly idea. Now two Donnas? THAT would have been worth seeing!

The opening five minutes were gripping; like a modern-day thriller. The Doctor giving a heartbreaking farewell speech to Donna, thinking it was the last time he’d see her, before she went and ruined it by saying she was merely popping home – GENIUS! The thought of Wilf dying at the end of Episode Four upset me greatly… So I was most pleased to see him survive. (Although the piss-easy way they got around it – smashing the car window with an axe – felt like a bit of a cop-out)

That irritating little gob-shite human kid assisting the Sontaran’s was rather well played, and I don't suppose I would have kicked him out of bed, either. (Him AND Ross... Mmmm...)

I particularly enjoyed his self-sacrifice at the end of the episode. Even though I saw it coming a mile off.

The Sontaran’s were nicely realised. Their war-mongering dialogue was amusing, and they made a much better ‘classic enemy’ that the Cybermen.

All in all, a really quite enjoyable two episodes.

Total Score: EIGHT out of TEN