Showing posts with label Davros. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Davros. Show all posts
Tuesday, 26 March 2013
A space helmet for a cow?
As you all know, I don't do 'Current Affairs' or 'Recent News' or 'Things that happened this century'. But there's an anniversary this year that definately needs a bit of national celebration.
OK, so it's not really until the 23rd of November, but it's a biggie, so you'll probably be excused for getting overexcited, starting early, and making a mess in the corner.
Doctor Who is fifty years old this year!
There isn't a person out there (whose opinion counts for anything) that doesn't love Doctor Who. Most people have their own Doctors, often the Doctor who was in residence whilst they were growing up, I'm lucky enough to have two; Both Jon Pertwee and Tom Baker (Although I was a great fan of the occasional Patrick Troughton episode) are ingrained on my subconcious as the man in my particular funny blue box.
The ongoing story of everyone's favourite 903 (approximately) year old adventurer from the planet Gallifrey, a binary star system in the constellation of Kasterborous have entertained all the members of the Dandy clan for the past 40 odd years. It has everything, adventure, pretty girls, rugged boys, humour, horror, suspense and in the later series (2005 onwards) an awful lot of running.
Don't get me wrong, it's not universally good, for me they could have quite happily left out the sixth Doctor, Colin Baker, completely as the job he did trying to channel William Hartnell was slapdash at best and at worst, jellyfish stampingly annoying and Sylvester McCoy did, in my opinion, more harm than good with his 60% Tom Baker, 30% Peter Davidson, 10% Charlie Chaplin portrayal. And whichever of the McGanns that it was that did the 'Americanised version'... Well, the less said about that the better (I understand he was quite brilliant in the Internet / Radio / Talking book versions though) But on the whole, the new mob are great, Matt Smith does do a particularly good Patrick Troughton, unfortunately sans the penny whistle.
It has generated a selection of words that have passed into the language, most notably 'Tardis' as used by estate agents to describle bijou one bedroom leasehold flats with staggeringly expensive service charges all over London that are the size of a biscuit tin on the outside and the size of a wardrobe on the inside.
'Sonic Screwdriver' has come to mean an item of equipment used to open containers that are proving 'difficult', it can apply to hammers, prybars, big screwdrivers or angle grinders, usually used thusly:
'Oi, Shadwell, chuck us the Sonic Screwdriver... No... Not that one, the big one.'
'Davros' can been applied to... Oh, I don't know... wheelchair bound people with a sense of humour, old people with dark tans who choose to wear fake leather jackets, or those unfortunates who have a single glowing blue eye in the centre of their wizened foreheads.
It's difficult not to use the word 'iconic' too much when you're talking about it, the enemies are all pretty iconic, Daleks, Cybermen, Silurians (both types) and their cousins the Sea Devils, Sontarans and The Master are all instantly recognisable... Well, I mean, the Master is kinda, at least in the Roger Delgado / Anthony Ainley years, but there've been almost as many Masters as there have been Doctors.
While we're on the subject, can you name all eighteen men and one woman who have played the Doctor in film or Television? (Not including body doubles or stand-ins you pedantophiles or people who might have been the Doctor) - Answer at the bottom of the page. Don't worry if you didn't get them all, I had to look a couple from the late nineties up.
Hopefully, the adventures of the 'Raggedy Man' will continue for another fifty years so that the next generation of Dandies will be able to pick character traits to affect that will make them stand out, and I also hope that whoever takes over from Matt Smith next year will not urinate on the franchise from a great height.
Who would you want to be the next Doctor? There's not been a lot of talk about his successor as yet on t'Internet, but I'm sure everyone has an idea, maybe it's finally time for a female Doctor (although that presumably won't be the incarnation that marries Melody Pond... Although Alex Kingston has a history of playing 'open minded' characters), maybe we'll see the Ginger Doctor, or the one that doesn't have legs, Maybe the one that doesn't have legs is really Jim the Fish?
I don't know.
I know who my choice would be though...
He'd have to be suave and erudite, Well read, sarcastic, ironic, tough in a no second chances kind of way, in touch with his feminine side, able to quip, as disabling with a well turned phrase as with a stun-gun fashioned from a wind-up penguin and a bucket of butterscotch Angel Delight that smells faintly of sturgeon.
In a word...
Me!
People who've played the Doctor include:
William Hartnell, Peter Cushing (Played a human Doctor Who in the two 1960's films), Patrick Troughton, Jon Pertwee, Tom Baker, Peter Davidson, Richard Hurndall (Played William Hartnell's Doctor in The Five Doctors), Colin Baker, Sylvester McCoy, Paul McGann, Rowan Atkinson, Richard E Grant, Jim Broadbent, Hugh Grant, Joanna Lumley, (Comic Relief 1999) Mark Gatiss (Doctor Who night 1999 - Went on to write and star in several episodes), Christopher Eccleston, David Tennant and Matt Smith
Wednesday, 9 January 2013
An eye for an eye
Yesterday, I spoke of the awesome bird mutilation skills of my Father. It seems only fair that I now tell you tales of the occular disassociational episodes that my Mother peppered my younger days with.
If you're a regular reader, you'll be au-fait with my Mother's sense of humour - She definately mellowed after she died, but whilst she was still alive - Seriously, she'd do stuff even that I'd think twice about - And I can throw fruit at myself.
In the mid 70's, she lost her right eye - I mean, she didn't come home from the shops one afternoon and say 'Oh Bugger! - I must have left it on the bus', there was some serious medical reason for it. I have vague memories of visiting her in hospital and stuff - In fact, one story that she used to tell (she really spun this one out, it could take her hours to tell if someone else was providing tea and/or biscuits) - But it boils down to my Dad redecorating the kitchen, then accidentally setting fire to it, and me running down the ward screeching 'Dad's set the kitchen on fire! Dad's set the kitchen on fire!'
Anywho, after a time of walking around with an eyepatch on, she was fitted with a 'Glass Eye'. For those of you whose total experience of false eyes is Mr Ragetti from Pirates of the Caribbean - I'll let you in on a secret, They're not spherical, they're kind of, well... scutiform (If nothing else happens today, you've learned a new word, it means 'Shield-shaped').
If I go into too much medical detail in the next paragraph, please feel free to skip It - But I feel that it gives some important background info.
For the first few months after the patch came off, she was fitted with a 'training' eye - Much like the oversized bar that they put in when you first have your tongue pierced, only the other way around, in that it's smaller than standard, to make up for the swelling etc. It seems that the way you can tell when you're ready for your 'real' false eye is when your training eye starts to fall out. I poop you not, (Remember this was the '70's, there are probably all kinds of clever scientific ways that they do it now - Anyone with impending eye surgery probably shouldn't worry... Well, not about this... I mean, you should probably still worry, it's your eye, and they'll be poking at it with sharp things... Like, totally, Ewww!)
The first time this happened, I think it was February / March - It was definately Shrove Tuesday, because we were all sat around eating pancakes. All I heard was a quiet *Tink* noise and my Mother said,
'Oh!'
There, resting on her plate, was her eye... Staring back at her. The rest of us sat there in stunned silence as she calmly picked it up, brushed the sugar off, and put it back in.
Young Dandy Trauma Level: 2.3
The second time I remember was when she called me into the kitchen and asked her to take stuff out of the washing bowl and pass it to her to dry - You know where this is going, right? I think that I'd given her a few cups, the odd plate and a knife, when I felt something at the bottom of the bowl. I thought it was a piece of broken mug or something as my Mum was famous for washing the crockery overarm - We got through a tea service at least every few weeks - But it wasn't, imagine being a five year old boy holding, what for all intents and purposed was a real, human eye. I just stood there going 'Eye... Eye... Eye... Eye...' Whilst she wept uncontrollable tears of mirth (out of one eye)
Young Dandy Trauma Level: 5.1
The third and final time, apart from when it came out into a package of butter as she was getting out of the 'fridge, was when she dropped it into the old upright washing machine and we had to go through all the pockets of the clothes that were being washed before we found it. That's an experience that brings a family together, I can tell you.
After she had been fitted for her new eye, you'd have thought that she'd have grown up a bit, but no... they let her keep her old eye (old false one that is, not old real one) which meant she had a spare. Over the next couple of years, I cannot count how many times this 'spare' ended up in my school lunchbox, on friends plates when they came over after school for tea and on the fireplace when she left the room - She would palm it and then pretend to take her eye out, close her eyelid and say something like,
'I'm watching you two,' As she left the room.
When I was maybe eight, I plucked up the courage to ask her what it actually looked like when she took it out... There was no 'Are you sure' or 'No, I don't think you'll like it', she just flipped it out, I was transfixed... If she had held her false eye to her forehead, she would have been the living embodiment of Davros.
Young Dandy Trauma Level: 9.4
She had another couple made over the years, in fact, I seem to remember that her consultant, Mr Farquhar, even made her a 'bloodshot' one as a Christmas present. This just increased the level of tricks she could play on people. One of her favourties wes secreting one in her mouth and then slowly opening her eyes and her mouth at the same time - It was like living on the set of The Reanimator at times - Although, in fairness, I did use them in the occasional modelling clay project for school.
I have one at home now, in a little box - I always toyed with the idea of having it made into a signet ring - I think that would probably go with my Super-Villain persona pretty well.
If you're a regular reader, you'll be au-fait with my Mother's sense of humour - She definately mellowed after she died, but whilst she was still alive - Seriously, she'd do stuff even that I'd think twice about - And I can throw fruit at myself.
In the mid 70's, she lost her right eye - I mean, she didn't come home from the shops one afternoon and say 'Oh Bugger! - I must have left it on the bus', there was some serious medical reason for it. I have vague memories of visiting her in hospital and stuff - In fact, one story that she used to tell (she really spun this one out, it could take her hours to tell if someone else was providing tea and/or biscuits) - But it boils down to my Dad redecorating the kitchen, then accidentally setting fire to it, and me running down the ward screeching 'Dad's set the kitchen on fire! Dad's set the kitchen on fire!'
Anywho, after a time of walking around with an eyepatch on, she was fitted with a 'Glass Eye'. For those of you whose total experience of false eyes is Mr Ragetti from Pirates of the Caribbean - I'll let you in on a secret, They're not spherical, they're kind of, well... scutiform (If nothing else happens today, you've learned a new word, it means 'Shield-shaped').
If I go into too much medical detail in the next paragraph, please feel free to skip It - But I feel that it gives some important background info.
For the first few months after the patch came off, she was fitted with a 'training' eye - Much like the oversized bar that they put in when you first have your tongue pierced, only the other way around, in that it's smaller than standard, to make up for the swelling etc. It seems that the way you can tell when you're ready for your 'real' false eye is when your training eye starts to fall out. I poop you not, (Remember this was the '70's, there are probably all kinds of clever scientific ways that they do it now - Anyone with impending eye surgery probably shouldn't worry... Well, not about this... I mean, you should probably still worry, it's your eye, and they'll be poking at it with sharp things... Like, totally, Ewww!)
The first time this happened, I think it was February / March - It was definately Shrove Tuesday, because we were all sat around eating pancakes. All I heard was a quiet *Tink* noise and my Mother said,
'Oh!'
There, resting on her plate, was her eye... Staring back at her. The rest of us sat there in stunned silence as she calmly picked it up, brushed the sugar off, and put it back in.
Young Dandy Trauma Level: 2.3
The second time I remember was when she called me into the kitchen and asked her to take stuff out of the washing bowl and pass it to her to dry - You know where this is going, right? I think that I'd given her a few cups, the odd plate and a knife, when I felt something at the bottom of the bowl. I thought it was a piece of broken mug or something as my Mum was famous for washing the crockery overarm - We got through a tea service at least every few weeks - But it wasn't, imagine being a five year old boy holding, what for all intents and purposed was a real, human eye. I just stood there going 'Eye... Eye... Eye... Eye...' Whilst she wept uncontrollable tears of mirth (out of one eye)
Young Dandy Trauma Level: 5.1
The third and final time, apart from when it came out into a package of butter as she was getting out of the 'fridge, was when she dropped it into the old upright washing machine and we had to go through all the pockets of the clothes that were being washed before we found it. That's an experience that brings a family together, I can tell you.
After she had been fitted for her new eye, you'd have thought that she'd have grown up a bit, but no... they let her keep her old eye (old false one that is, not old real one) which meant she had a spare. Over the next couple of years, I cannot count how many times this 'spare' ended up in my school lunchbox, on friends plates when they came over after school for tea and on the fireplace when she left the room - She would palm it and then pretend to take her eye out, close her eyelid and say something like,
'I'm watching you two,' As she left the room.
When I was maybe eight, I plucked up the courage to ask her what it actually looked like when she took it out... There was no 'Are you sure' or 'No, I don't think you'll like it', she just flipped it out, I was transfixed... If she had held her false eye to her forehead, she would have been the living embodiment of Davros.
Young Dandy Trauma Level: 9.4
She had another couple made over the years, in fact, I seem to remember that her consultant, Mr Farquhar, even made her a 'bloodshot' one as a Christmas present. This just increased the level of tricks she could play on people. One of her favourties wes secreting one in her mouth and then slowly opening her eyes and her mouth at the same time - It was like living on the set of The Reanimator at times - Although, in fairness, I did use them in the occasional modelling clay project for school.
I have one at home now, in a little box - I always toyed with the idea of having it made into a signet ring - I think that would probably go with my Super-Villain persona pretty well.
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