A quick summary of my plight: my 19yo son is a Dr Who obsessive. We have a part-completed life-sized TARDIS in the garden, we have a headless life-sized Dalek under the house, his 3D models of sonic screwdrivers are renowned the world over for their a curacy amongst fellow Who tragics.
I remember the day I bought home a Dr Who DVD that I’d found cheap in a thrift store. It was the good stuff, Tom Baker, and my son was about 4. He became instantly obsessed, and I’ve followed his Who journey now for 15 years through occasional and modest peaks and the endless, crushing disappointments. There were the Ecclestone years (great), Tennant (good), Smith (OK), Capaldi (his favourite) and Whittaker (dire). I recall his breathless excitement from a couple of years ago when he announced that Russell T Davies was returning to the helm to lead the Doctor back to the promised land. Finally, the show was going to hit form again.
Well, here we are two years later after enduring Ncuti Gatwa, undoubtedly the worst Doctor ever (Jodie Whittaker must be breathing a deep sigh of relief), and my son’s just told me that Billie Piper » Continue Reading.
