New Year's Resolution #1

As always, I have a delightful list of resolutions, hopes and aims for 2009 whirring around in my little brainbox. These will no doubt be listed in forthcoming blogs, only to be ignored when it actually comes to the crunch, leaving life in 2009 pretty much as it has been for the last quarter-of-a-century. But let's start with the do-able, and save the nigh-on impossible - such as moving out and marrying TV's Bella Emberg - for later rambling entries.

So... Top of the list so far of things to achieve in 2009:

To have a slightly more enjoyable and sexy time in Florida than these two televisual icons. Which shouldn't be too hard.

Doctor Who Watch #11

The Next Doctor by RTD OBE

After the second-best Christmas Eve of my life; a Christmas Eve where I very, very nearly cried with actual joy, the pessimist in me knew it could only be downhill from there. Spending Christmas Day with the family (who I DO love, even if I give the opposite impression sometimes!) was never really going to compare to the previous night.

Family Christmas - It can be amazingly fun, or it can be amazingly banal. It just depends which way the wind is blowing. But brief respite from painting on a smile and pretending I'm not aching to escape for some relative-free solitude normally comes in the shape of Santa RTD OBE, with his always-enjoyable Doctor Who Christmas Specials.

I say "always enjoyable" - The Kylie Minogue one was pretty wank. But, conversely, the Catherine Tate one was the best thing about that Christmas. Presents and all. So it's swings and roundabouts.

But this year's offering from RTD OBE? It was if he'd wrapped up a box of Cadbury's Dairy Milk that he'd shat all over. Or bought me a Furby with its eyes gauged out, and smeared with a two-year old's blood. Or stuffed half a canister of Prussian Blue up the roast turkey's bumcrack, before weeing in the cranberry sauce and announcing that there is no Santa Claus and that my mother probably isn't my real mother.

It was THAT sort of Christmas treat.

I'm loathe to say anything is as bad as The Doctor's Cunting Daughter, but this was as near as damn it.

The scenes with David Morrissey and David Tennant were good. Emotional even. And Assumpta Fitzgerald put down her M&S delicacies to turn in a rather camp, enjoyable turn as chief villain.

But the shit-ness of the Cybermen... The way the Doctor beat one off (Oo-er!) with a sword... The stupid plot involving orphans and about ninety-five plot holes... The cringe-worthy BIG Cyberman stomping all over a rather poorly realised CGI London... The lack of Catherine Tate... It was just awful. A big, awful mess.

I tried to watch this episode again, just to make sure it hadn't been because I was tired that I hadn't enjoyed it. I got halfway through and just lost patience. There's only a few episodes that have ever made me do that: Love & Monsters, Fear Her and, oh, erm... Oh... What's that one again? The one with his daughter?!

A waste of my pissing time, and would have ruined Christmas for me... If the night before hadn't been so utterly wonderful.

Total Score: TWO out of TEN

(One point for the emotional stuff between the two Doctor's/David's and one point for that genius right hook from Rosalita!)

-

Postcard From A Windswept Beach

Stood here,
The edge of the world, dear.
Three wishes for you,
As the tide turns.

Salt water,
Meets with the skies, dear.
Meets with your eyes, my dear,
As the day dies.