50 Doctor Who Facts For Doctor Who’s Fiftieth Anniversary
Well, it’s sneaking up quietly on us – you’d think that the BBC might be promoting it a little bit more yet so far: nothing – but this weekend marks the fiftieth anniversary of the world’s favourite science fiction television show about a regenerating time traveller and his penchant for getting into scrapes with alien adversaries mostly in modern day Cardiff, Wales and Victorian England, England (narrowly beating out Rai Uno’s Signor Mussolini e la Macchina del Tempo Bikini); I’m talking, of course, about the BBC sci-fi TV series Doctor Who. So, to commemorate the occasion of the anniversary of Doctor Who’s first showing on BBC TV in 1963 I’ve compiled a list of fifty facts about the Time Lord, safe in the knowledge that nobody else will have thought to do the same. 1. Many early episodes of Doctor Who have been lost as the tape on which they were recorded was reused as costumes for Blake’s 7. 2. When asked who is the sexiest companion most Doctor Who fans look uncomfortable and mumble something incoherently. But it’s probably Adric. 3. In the episode Earthshock, Doctor Who’s companian Tegan describes herself as “just a mouth on legs”, an inside joke referring to the initial design for her character. 4. On set the TARDIS is known as “The Shaggin’ Cabin” and it can comfortably accommodate three. 5. At the Phoenix 2010 Doctor Who convention organisers accidentally booked Neil Tennant to appear instead of David. Everyone, including the fans, was too polite to say anything so the main speaking event consisted of ninety minutes of uncomfortable silence followed by an a capella rendition of West End Girls. 6. K-1 was infested with robo-fleas and was left by the roadside by Patrick Troughton’s Doctor Who in The Macra Terror. 7. You can tell which episodes of Doctor Who were produced by Russell T. Davies by reading the end credits of the shows. 8. Terry Nation’s bad service at a local restaurant led to him penning a vitriolic tale about Stavros and where he could stick some oversized salt shakers. The BBC’s legal department stepped in, effected a few changes, and the Doctor’s most famous foes were born. 9. K-2 had an incurable fear of beards and had to be put to sleep. 10. A very disturbing storyline was canned when Sylvester McCoy refused to appear in anything so dark. The story was later expanded and spun off into a show in its own right: Byker Grove. 11. I had four “Enemies of Doctor Who” jigsaws when I was young. The Sontarans (pictured above) plus Giant Robots, Zygons, and one other enemy...
Jill Trent: Science, Sleuthing, Sex, And Violence
Jill Trent – accompanied by her best friend Daisy Smythe – was a comic book heroine from the 1940s, appearing in issues of Fighting Yank and Wonder Comics. We should, of course, welcome anything that pushes forward female equality or superiority during that period, as well as the promotion of science. And yet… Here we see Jill and Daisy using top quality sleuthing skills to detect some criminals in front of them, then utilising science in the form of kinetic energy delivered via fists and feet. Two different types of science on display here: the science of ballistics and the science of slapping dogs. Dogslappingology was discredited in the 1960s as it was found to have no more than a placebo effect in quelling vicious canines. The Jill Trent storylines featured her inventions heavily; x-ray glasses, gas detectors, and the precursor to the laser were all covered. In this particular strip we see one of the more unusual gadgets she came up with: a camera that fires boxes of tools at people. I’ve lost track of the number of times a toolbox-firing adapter would have come in useful on my Canon 5D Mark II but while modern scientists spend any amount of time trying to recreate the creations of Star Trek, Jill Trent’s mind is left untapped. The science of ballistics once again. We can only assume that prior to a later case Daisy and Jill looked over what went right and what went wrong in order to learn from it and decided that some target shooting practice wouldn’t go amiss, since their bullets apparently did. Violence sells comics (both when represented in pictorial form and when used by threatening comic store owners against nerds). Do you know what else sells comic strips? Sex. You’re shocked, aren’t you? Still, it’s true, and the writers and artists of the Jill Trent strips couldn’t leave Jill alone doing manly things such as science and shooting and punching the living shit out of villains without an occasional damsel-in-distress moment, especially if it featured a little bondage action and giant erections (metal ones; not the ones you’re thinking of, pervert). Still, worse than resorting to stereotypes of the sexes is probably the science itself. In case you’re wondering about the above strip let me clear things up: poison rays aren’t a thing, ultraviolet poisons aren’t a thing, and combatting ultraviolet using infrared isn’t a thing either. Unlike the Jill Trent authors I used real science to prove this, publishing my results for peer-review earlier this year. I’m currently awaiting trial on eight counts of killing professional scientist and amateur sleuth women and may...
Without Incident
The little fish clung to the underside of the jetsam, shivering with fear. After everything that had happened this somehow seemed the most scary moment of all. It was nearly silent; only the occasional bubble and splash on the surface punctuated the oppressive terror. There was nothing around. Which direction should he go? Would he ever see anyone again? Some shadow shifted in the distance. The fish held his breath. A trick of the fading light? No. The shadow became a shape and headed directly at him. Friend, or foe? Or… could it be? It was! “Dad! You came for me!” “Pierre! It is you! I knew it! Pierre, I’d swim every ocean for you. I’d go to war for you. I’d enter a squid’s suicide volcano for you. I’m just happy you’re safe.” “I was so scared, dad. But I met some new friends who helped me and then I got lost and, and, and I just knew you’d never give up.” “And I never will, believe that. Even when the shark gang had me encircled and even when the Eleanor the clumsy, giant squid inadvertently took me to the edge of her suicide volcano I knew I’d find a way out and find my way to you.” “I love you so much dad!” “And I love you too, little Pierre!” “I’m quite fond of the pair of you!” “Who’s that dad!?” “This is Petunia and she’ll be your new mum.” “This couldn’t have worked out any better dad. And look! A sparkle in the sky above! Even the oversea is happy! Everything’s just perfect!” * * * Olivia flexed her tentacles, squeezed them together, and soared upwards. “Whee!” screamed her babies as one even as they clung ever tighter to their mum’s arms. Olivia slowed and came to a halt, floating and bobbing gently with the warm current that came out of the west at this time of the year. She grinned and turned smoothly making sure that they were all alone in the deep, vibrant blue of the twilight-lit ocean. “Okay, now you,” said the octopus looking at the tentacles she had stretched out in front of her. On them, wrapped around tightly, were Leo, Lisa, Jenny, and Jack. “Let’s show your father how well you can swim when he gets back from the office.” Nobody moved. “You go first,” said Lisa nervously, looking towards her twin Leo. “No way,” said her brother, and he twisted his arms into a knot around his mother’s. “Jenny? Jack?” asked Olivia, amused. Darting eyes and nervous shakes of the heads were the only answer. They were the youngest two...
Norway Cruise – Crown Princess
I've finally finished going through the photos I took on our cruise through the Norwegian fjords on board the Crown Princess. Nothing too arty, nothing heavily processed, just a little bit of cleaning up, and a very, very small selection of the pictures taken. You don't want to see them all; trust me. Pictures in this album are in no particular order and feature various fjords, Geiranger, Olden, Stavanger, Bergen, and Flåm. The cruise itself was great (second time for us with +Princess Cruises) and Norway's got some stunning scenery. And all this means I might soon return to taking pictures and posting regularly again! Oh happy day! Google+: View post on...
Review: The NFL At Wembley In 2013
And so we come to the end of another International Series of games of American Football at Wembley which means we can write a quick review of the state of play of the sport in England pleasing both people who might one day search just to see what some guy in Portsmouth thought of the whole thing. NFL: No Fun League For reasons best known only to themselves the NFL have decided that going to a game of football should progressively become more and more like an automated chore rather than any kind of enjoyable experience. The plan to turn attendees into an army of Roger Goodell’s Patented Money-Parting Zombies continues at a fair pace. This year’s new ruling included a vast list of what could and could not be taken into the game which ultimately boiled down to: yourself, one small, clear carrier bag with, a small “non-professional” (sigh) camera around your neck. Let’s take these in order: Yourself: I get this one. This one’s quite important. But to be fair, this one’s one that sports fans are going to want to follow so it’s a bit of a no-brainer. One clear bag: I appreciate that you don’t want people turning up with a week’s worth of shopping as that can be a bit of a nightmare when walking up stairs but it’s a bit draconian and it’s based on an American understanding of who will want to attend the game. In America fans will go and watch their team because they happen to live near the place (near in American terms, at least). This isn’t the case for London. A lot of people go to watch the game as part of a day out because we don’t all live in London. There are people there from all over the UK and wide areas of Europe too. And it’s really quite an expensive day out. In previous years we’ve made the NFL games a great experience by taking the train up to London, seeing some of the sights, doing the whole tourist thing, bumping into other American Football fans doing the same thing, then making our way to the game. These new rules ruin most of that as we can now no longer risk buying a small souvenir at some historic place because the bag isn’t clear or some other stupid rule. This rule doesn’t work for a large section of fans at all. Why one clear bag, anyway? Oh, it’s to stop people bringing in bombs and knives and sniper rifles and by limiting the number of bags it prevents clutter disrupting people’s enjoyment in the stadium....
Ke$ha’s Haunted Vagina
Who is Ke$ha? It’s a question I recently had to ask myself. I’d heard the name. I’d even been aware that there was a dollar sign in the name somehow. I suspected she might be a star of music since that’s an area I’ve stopped being interested in once I passed the threshold into grumpy middle-agedness. Wikipedia confirms that this is indeed the case. That she’s a music star. Not that I’ve passed the threshold into grumpy middle-agedness. I don’t need Wikipedia for that. So, the reason I was wondering who she happened to be was because of some fleeting piece of news I overheard: Kesha thinks her vagina is haunted. At first I dismissed it as a joke, possibly originating from Frankie Boyle. However… No, she really does think her vagina is haunted. Because her hypnotherapist told her so. And her ghost meter confirmed the statement by beeping in the vicinity of her nether regions. Ghost meter? Like this one? So does this really mean that Kesha (or Ke$ha) has a vagina haunted by a supernatural lover? I’ll be honest here: I’m a smidge sceptical. The top-rated review of the ghost meter states: That’s “works perfect for locating electrical wiring in walls and high readings from outlets. a great tool to have. thank you”. And, of course, the ghost meter is actually marketed as the Ghost Meter EMF Sensor. Electromagnetic fields. The sort of things present everywhere on the planet. Unlike ghosts which, you know, don’t exist. The manufacturer goes on to say: The Ghost Meter has been calibrated to ignore the extremely subtle EMF emissions surrounding the human body, yet is still sensitive enough to detect the small, distinct, erratic EMF energy fluctuations frequently found at reputed haunted locations. The Ghost Meter provides three corroborating indicators of EMF emission strength. So what does this really mean as far as the ghostly goings-on around Kesha’s vagina are concerned? Is it possible that she’s being haunted? Unlikely. More probable explanations include a faulty connection in the electrical outlet behind her clitoris or emanations from the vaginal probe inserted by the aliens running Area 51. Sorry. Some more bad news for Kesha, too: Please note: this product is intended to measure electric fields, and does not detect nuclear radiation. Looks like she’s going to want to spend some of those dollar symbols in her name on a Geiger counter too, just to be on the safe side. In case there’s a Godzilla about to emerge from between her legs. Or her pubes get super...
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