Every Toy Is The Prologue To Some Great Amiss

'I've got a memory. After a very long time, something's coming back.' Just as BBC1's viewers were about to enter the ballroom for the first live show of Strictly Come Dancing's 2023 series (Annabel Croft's going to win that, by the way - you heard it here first), they were transported, en masse, to the TARDIS with an exclusive new two minute trailer. Which revealed more of what is to come when Doctor Who returns to our screens this November. And lo, dear blog readers, it was shit-yer-pants fantastic in this blogger's opinion. And, he's a very highly respected author, so you should probably take what he has to say jolly seriously. Or not, as the case may be. The trailer again featured Neil Patrick Harris waltzing about a bit and it has now been confirmed that he will, indeed, be playing The Celestial Toymaker, the powerful enemy of The Doctor last seen in a titular four-parter in 1966 played by the late Michael Gough. As just about every fan in the entirety of fandom had been speculating about since August 2022. But what is the thing which brings The Doctor face-to-face with this enemy from his past, you may be wondering? This blogger knows he certainly is.

Also confirmed in the trailer, UNIT is also back. Jemma Redgrave will reprise her role as Kate Lethbridge-Stewart alongside David Tennant for the first time since 2013's The Day Of The Doctor. Given that Jemma is also showing up in at least one of Ncuti Gatwa's first series as The Doctor, that will be six Doctor's that she has interacted with since 2012, exactly the same number as her on-screen father, the late Nicholas Courtney, managed.

Russell Davies was quoted as saying (in a BBC press release): 'This is just the start, as the fever starts to burn. We're heading for a November full of Doctor Who surprises, for fans and new viewers alike. Stay alert!' We shall, Big Rusty, we shall. Needless to say, the trailer attracted the attention of just about every media organ in the hemisphere, all seeking to be the one to uncrack what 'secrets' the trailer may (or may not) hold. Take, for example (and the list in by no means comprehensive), Entertainment Weekly, Sky News, the Radio Times (which used to be run by adults), the Digital Spy website, Gizmodo (no, me neither), Screen Rant (in a really crap article entitled Nine Things You Missed, containing nine things which precisely no one who had their eyes open missed), the Daily Mirra (Doctor Who Sparks Frenzy With New Trailer according to Charlotte McIntyre, the Assistant Showbiz Editor who is clearly after promotion via her cunning use of crass hyperbole), the Northern Echo (New Trailer Has Fans In Complete Meltdown wrote Matthew Evans who, apparently, wants Charlotte's old job at the Mirra when she's done with it), Yahoo! Sport (!), Nottinghamshire Live, Metro (so, not a real newspaper), OK! (whose writer, Danni King, appears to have shat herself mid-article judging by the virtually unreadable final two paragraphs), Doctor Who TV, the Evening Standard, Telly Visions, What's On Disney Plus (written by Roger Palmer who, unlike the last time he wrote a piece for that website on Doctor Who, now appears to understand that Kate Lethbridge-Stewart is a character, not an actress), Dark Horizons, Collider, The Hollywood Reporter, Daps Magic (no, really), the Daily Scum Mail, the Warrington Guardian, The National, Gay Times, Deadline, Bleeding Cool, Laughing Place, Movie Web and The News International. Not forgetting the Pig Breeders Gazette. Probably.

Of course, inevitably, within hours of the trailer appearing someone on You Tube had done an extensive - and, really rather good - breakdown of the entire thing. One which completely surpassed all of the wretched faux-analysis done in the various media organs previously mentioned. And then, someone else did the same thing even more impressively. Probably lots more fans have done so as well but, after watching those two, this blogger decided that he'd seen the trailer more than enough already and he'd like to wait for the episodes to see any more! Especially after being utterly blown away by The Money Shot of Ncuti at the end. Wow. Are we excited yet, dear blog readers?

It has been clear for a while that Ncuti Gatwa's Doctor is going to bring us a variety of different costumes. Now a double for the actor has been spotted on location wearing yet another previously unseen outfit. The new costume was photographed by a social media user, who posted it on The Artist Formerly Known As Twitter. The costume consists of a tartan kilt, a black leather jacket, black socks and brown boots. Nice threads. 'The double was spotted filming scenes against a very Christmassy backdrop that included various fairy lights and a tree, although it's not currently clear if these are pick-ups for the already filmed 2023 Christmas special or for a future 2024 Yuletide episode,' suggests some plank of no importance at Radio Times (which used to be run by adults). This blogger will leave it up to dear blog readers to see if they can manage work out which of these two alternative scenarios is the more likely. Or, indeed, what the chances are that filming on an episode scheduled for broadcast in December 2024 is taking place in September 2023.

Earlier this week, whilst looking on You Tube for, you know, stuff this blogger stumbled across BadWolf42's charming assessment of one of yer actual Keith Telly Topping's former regenerations; as the original co-proposer of the Doctor Who 'Season 6B Theory' malarkey in The Discontinuity Guide. What a lovely little piece it is, too. Although, as this blogger was quick to point out to Bad his very self, could he not have found a somewhat more flattering photo of this blogger with which to illustrate the piece than this one?

I mean, for a small fee, this blogger would gladly have provided him with one.

Anyway, moving on to scenes from this blogger's previous live(s), part the second. Keith Telly Topping bought this, fine, Telos publication (direct from here) purely on the strength of the publisher assuring this blogger that it was, in fact, 'quite good.' Keith Telly Topping is happy to inform you all, dear blog readers, that from the evidence of the first few pages, that there Mister Howe was not lying on this particular occasion.

This blogger, however, now knows exactly how the bass player of some anonymous third division mid-1980s indie band who once toured as support to The Clash feels when picking up a The Sunday Times best-seller Joe Strummer biography and finds a brief reference to themselves on page 202! 'Twenty-two-year-old Tyneside writer ...' Oh my good God! Yeah, once, long ago and far away. Keith Telly Topping always told his dear old mother that he'd end up in a book one day; to be fair, she probably expected it to be in the True Crime genre. Thanks Alistair, this blogger feels as though his life has been entirely validated!

As this blogger told the author, 'the really thought-provoking (for which, read worrying) thing about it is looking at all of those fanzine covers and thinking "I had that one. I had that one. I wrote for that one. I script-edited that one. I got a letter of complaint in the next issue, from a future MP, about something I'd written in that one (true story)!" Et cetera.'

All of which right bleeding stuff and nonsense, of course, brings us nicely to Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Sixty One: The Two Faces Of Doctor Jekyll. Paul Massie: 'A tigress?' Christopher Lee: 'Tigers needn't lick their lips over her unless they're very rich.' Paul Massie: 'Is she so exclusive?' Christopher Lee: 'Only princes, pashas, millionaires, or distinguished actor/managers need apply!'

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Sixty Two: Children Of The Damned. Ian Hendry: 'At this very moment, they could be making all those men out there turn their guns on one another!'

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Sixty Three: The Curse Of The Werewolf. Oliver Reed: 'Father, the bullet! Pepe the watchman has a silver bullet. Get it and use it! Use it on me, father! You must use it!'

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Sixty Four: House Of Mystery. Ronald Hines: 'I don't get it, the price is absurd. This place must be worth at least six thousand. There must be a big snag we don't know about.' Colette Wilde: 'It'd have to be one Hell of a big snag to put me off!'

This blogger's fiend Young Malcolm was, as is his frequent want, swift to point out that Vernon Sewell's House Of Mystery (1961) was, in fact, a remake of Sewell's Ghost Ship (1952). This blogger was then able to supply further links in the chain thanks to Kim Newman's excellent book Nightmare Movies (1985) which noted that Sewell's most infamous achievement was 'buying the rights to a grand guignol play called The Medium in the early 1930s' and then 'making a version of it every five years or so for the rest of his career!' Not quite that often, perhaps, more like once a decade as Sewell first filmed the play under its original title in 1934. He then remade it for the first time as Latin Quarter in 1945. House Of Mystery is, probably, the best of the four versions although this blogger doesn't believe he's ever actually seen The Medium so that could be a twenty four carat masterpiece with an undeservedly low reputation.

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Sixty Five: The Day Of The Triffids. Keiron Moore: 'Keep behind me. There's no sense in getting killed by a plant!'

This blogger could, at this point, totally nick a couple of superb jokes told in relation to this particular image by two of his Facebook fiends, Steven and Chuck and claim them as his own. But, he wouldn't do that sort of thing. And, if you believe that, dear blog reader, then you'll believe anything.

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Sixty Six: The Revenge Of Frankenstein. Francis Matthews: 'A masterly dissection, Doctor Stein. You must forgive this intrusion.' Peter Cushing: 'Must I?'

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Sixty Seven: The Hellfire Club. Desmond Walter Ellis: 'Feast your eyes, for we are about to make our dedication to The God Of Evil!'

Britain's biggest public service broadcasters are developing a new free TV service that will deliver live TV over broadband. The new service, called Freely, is set for launch in 2024 and it will be built into the next generation of smart TVs and feature a line-up of public service broadcaster content and other free-to-air channels. Freely is, reportedly, being developed by Everyone TV, the organisation which runs free TV in the UK and is jointly owned by the BBC, ITV, Channel 4 and Channel 5. Mind you, this is according to the Radio Times (which used to be run by adults) so it's just about possible all of this could be a right load of old toot. Time will tell. It usually does. Everyone TV, formerly known as Digital UK, is responsible for the day-to-day running of the UK's free-to-view TV platforms - Freeview and Freest - as well as leading free TV's evolution for a streaming age. The new TV service will replicate the terrestrial TV experience, building on the heritage and popularity of the Freeview TV platform, which is currently used in sixteen million homes. Including (though not exclusively) The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House. Viewers will, it is claimed, be able to browse channels through a modern programme guide and use innovative functionality designed to make it easier to find and explore new shows directly from live TV. So, just like Freeview only with butons, then? Jonathan Thompson, Everyone TV chief executive, said: 'We are delighted to be working with the public service broadcasters on the next phase of free TV's evolution. This new development is a reflection of the fact that a growing number of UK viewers are watching content online, but still want easy access to the shared experience of live TV. Our aim is to ensure that all viewers have access to a free, aggregated live TV experience that champions British content and is delivered in a way that suits audience needs and preferences. Every one of us should be able to share in the best of British ideas and creativity on TV.' Tim Davie, the disgraceful, criminally spineless Director General of the BBC, said: 'Ensuring the universality of public-service television is sustained into the future is of paramount importance to the UK and all its public service broadcasters. We are delighted to be deepening our collaboration in helping viewers access our content, ensuring that, in a digital age, we deliver value for all audiences and that no one is left behind.' Before adding, 'can you bend over a bit more, Mister Prime Minister, I want to get my tongue in further from a right good lick.' Allegedly.

Each morning, dear blog reader, this blogger fills in a certain popular and well-known Audience Appreciation Index questionnaire giving his (hopefully valued) thought on the television and radio programmes he consumes on a daily basis. And, whether they were 'thought-provoking', encourages this blogger to 'do something new' or made this blogger feel 'part of this event'. The answers to which are always no. After which, there are usually a couple of supplemental questions regarding stuff which is in the news; for example, when the late Prince Phillip died in 2021 there were questions about whether believed that thought there had been too much/too little or just about the right amount of coverage of that topic, et cetera (this blogger felt the got it just about right). Earlier this wek, one morning's supplemental began with 'are you aware of the comedian Russell Brand?' What this blogger wanted to answer was 'I am aware of Russell Brand, although whether you could describe him as "a comedian" per se is another matter entirely' but, this blogger merely clicked yes. The next question was, seemingly, supposed to be 'are you aware of the accusations which have been made about Russell Brand's alleged sexual behaviour?' or something similar. But, for some reason, they missed the last word off. So, instead, it asked 'are you aware of the accusations which have been made about Russell Brand's alleged sexual?' This blogger indicated that he was aware of 'Russell Brand's alleged sexual'. The following question was about whether there had been too much or too little coverage on TV and radio concerning that particular issue. This blogger indicated that he had no strong feelings either way concerning the amount of coverage given to concerning 'Russell Brand's alleged sexual'. Then there was a box asking for any further comments. 'You asked if I was aware of "the accusations which have been made about Russell Brand's alleged sexual"' this blogger began. 'I am, as previously indicated, aware of 'Russell Brand's alleged sexual'. However, I have no intention of going anywhere near 'Russell Brand's alleged sexual' with a bargepole if it's all the same to you.' This blogger then pondered on how many similar answers they got to their question.

The following conceit, dear blog reader, was totally nicked by this blogger from someone else (who shall remain nameless - hi, Jean!) Because unoriginality is this blogger's middle name (well, actually, it's Andrew but ...) Anyway, dearest blog fiends, please be advised that Keith Telly Topping hereby and forthwith gives his full and complete permission to Northumbria police, MI5, MI6, MI12 (look, we all know you exist, stop denying it, you're impressing no one), GCHQ, the DWP, DEFRA, the Ministry of Justice, the SAS, the NIS, the NHS, the IRS, the NSA, the FBI, the CIA, NASA, the UDA, the IRA, the MPLA, the UK (or just a-nother country), the Harper Valley PTA, CI5, CSI (all versions), NCIS, UB40, the BBC, BB King & Doris Day, Matt Busby, the Catholic church, the Swiss Guard, the Priory of Scion, The Wu-Tang Clan, Agents Mulder and Scully (especially Scully), Jack Regan & George Carter, The Goodies (except for Bill cos he's a grotty little Communist), Darth Vader and the forces of The Empire, S.H.I.E.L.D, The Avengers (Steed and Mrs Peel and the other lot), The Illuminati, The Men in Black, the Ghostbusters, The Justice League of America, Buffy Summers, Captain Mal Reynolds, Gandalf, Roy Wood and all the other Wizzards, Santa Claus, Jesus, The Easter Bunny, Peter Pumpkinhead, The Flying Spaghetti Monster, The Purple Gang, The Tooth Fairy, The Rand Corporation, The Saucer People, The Reverse Vampires, the crew of Fireball XL5, John, Paul, George & Ringo, The Doctor, Captain Kirk, James Bond, Steve Austin, Scooby Doo, Hercules Poirot, Jay & Silent Bob, Sonny & Cher, Peter & Gordon, Morecombe & Wise, Kermode & Mayo, Peters & Lee, Batman & Robin, The Jackson Five, the Balowski family, Viv Stanshall, Legs Larry Smith, Sam Spoons, Mary, Mungo & Midge, Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble & Grub, Hartlepool United's back four during the 1986-87 season, everyone writing for the Gruniad Morning Star, the Daily Scum Mail and the Radio Times (which used to be run by adults), whomsoever was on The Grassy Knoll, the Home Office, the Away Office, the Neutral Venue Office and anyone else who knows me to view and share all of the jolly amazing and potentially world-changing things that Keith Telly Topping posts onto Facebook. This blogger is fully aware that his right to privacy ended on the day he created a Facebook profile (chiefly, to advertise the existence of this very blog). He also knows that whatever he posts there (or here) can (and usually will be) shared, tagged, copied and posted elsewhere because, like, Keith Telly Topping is so utterly windswept and interesting. If this blogger does not want anyone else to have it, then he doesn't post it. Except for this, obviously.

Right, dear blog reader, this has now gone on far too seriously long enough. By half. ' ... seven tickets to see the Brazilian Mime Theatre at the Riverside Studios; a little cairn terrier called Bobbie; one of them little black rubber things you know them little black rubber things that go "neep-neep, neep-neep" ...'

In 1972 dear blog reader, shockingly, the whole concept of upskirting was not a crime. Hence, you could get away with this sort of appalling malarkey with the divine Goddess that was (and, indeed, still is) Caroline Munro. If you were a boy-scout, that is.

Polish yer boots, Ms Munro? It's for charity. Honest.

After much, careful, consideration, dear blog reader this blogger has come (yet again) to the inevitable conclusion that The Specials AKA were, quite simply, the greatest live band in the world. Ever. Bar none. And, as previously noted, this blogger was lucky enough to see them three times. A magnificent, on-the-nail soul influenced drummer, a rockabilly guitarist, a genius on keyboards and the best front-line trio imaginable. However (and, the observation is not this bloggers, I think it was Mark Ellen was said it originally), pay particular attention in this memorable clip from Rock Goes To College (1980) to the legend at is Sir Horace Gentleman (third from the left, wearing the yellow stripy shirt). Who managed to spend entire gigs playing these madly complex and intricate ska basslines whilst, simultaneously, never having more than one foot on the ground at any one time! That's entertainment, dear blog reader. (As is the moment when the late and much-missed Terry Hall threatens to bray someone in the audience with his tambourine for some, now long-forgotten infraction!) And, as usual, it all ended in pure chaos. God, they were brilliant.

During Keith Telly Topping's recent You Tube searching, he came across a video which lasted nine minutes plus. Why, he wondered? After all, how long does to take to say the word 'yes' and move on to the next question?

It should be noted, dear blog reader, that there are some things in life more important than desire.

The billing on one particular 1988 episode of Aspel & Co was, clearly, a sodding disgrace. A twenty-four carat British legend and icon merely being one place higher on the guest-list than a couple of non-entities who used to be in some pop band or other in the 1960s. One trusts the caption writer got the old tin-tack first thing in the morning.

It's like Themlmamania never happened.

This blogger - along with all other rabid Thelmamaniacs - is eagerly awaiting the official announcement of what the next released in the reissue programme of The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) will be. Yes, we know it's almost certainly going to be newly remixed (or, demixed) and expanded editions of 1962-66 and 1967-70 but Apple haven't got their shit together to actually inform us of that, as yet. In the mean time, however, another popular beat comb of the 1960s, The Whom, have re-issued this little ten-disc beauty. This blogger is, frankly, a bit pissed off at having to buy The Young Vic gig again but it is nice to have the full San Francisco 1971 show in superb quality having previously only had an edited, average soundboard recording of it for years.

Watching the Singapore Grand Prix on Sky Sports last weekend dear blog reader, Bernie Collins was hear asking 'the real question for Red Bull is "where do we go from here?"' Did anyone else happen to reply 'is it down to the lake, I fear?' Just this blogger then?

It's probably worth noting at this juncture, dear blog reader, that the first time Keith Telly Topping ever indulged in his brief foray with stand-up comedy, back in the late 1990s, he started his set with 'I used to be a bit of a tearaway as a youngster. I had a significant police record. Regatta de Blanc, the last decent one they made.' It was all downhill from there (on so very many levels).

Even skinheads like a bit of quality menswear, it would seem. English made, obviously. None of that foreign muck for these guys ...

This blogger most excellent fiend Nick soon pointed out that 20-22 Corporation Road, Notlob was, until recently, the sales office for JLG Wheelchairs (although it now appears to have been vacated and is, currently, for let). There is probably an essay in there somewhere about changing diversity in social values over the decades. Or something. And, this blogger is well aware that it's jolly difficult to judge anything from the evidence of one small photograph. Nevertheless, my God, it's looks a truly desperate place sandwiched in between a pawnbrokers and a nail beauticians. It is, in fact, staggering reminiscent of Byker at its grottiest.

It was interesting to see that Daniel Bachmann let in three playing in goal for Watford against this blogger's fiend Mick The Mod's beloved Dirty Leeds on Saturday. This blogger is presuming that Turner was on the bench and Overdrive was suspended.

This blogger must say, the following headline from the BBC News website is, he feels, a little harsh. Keith Telly Topping is well aware that the chap's not very popular, but still ... (This blogger's sincere thank you to Frank Skinner for that joke from 1996.)

'So, Sir Wilfred Death, yerr tyranny is naw at and eyend. Prapare t'be strung by yer coderlings from the bows of thaaaat tree!'

This blogger's beloved (and now, thankfully, sold) Magpies matched their record Premier League win with a scintillating display as they embarrassed and shame winless, witless and knackerless Sheffield United at Bramall Lane. Any fears of a European hangover following Newcastle's Champions League exertions on Tuesday in Milan soon vanished as Eddie Howe's men cruised to victory with eight different players getting on the scoresheet in an eight (that's EIGHT) nil thrashing of some Blades that just weren't sharp enough. Sean Longstaff put the visitors in front on twenty one minutes as he swept in from Anthony Gordon's cutback with bottom-of-the-table Blades' appeals for a handball and claims the ball went out of play in the build-up, rightly, dismissed. Because it wasn't and it didn't, basically. Paul Heckingbottom's hapless hosts had started relatively brightly but then found themselves three goals down before half-time after further two strikes in four minutes for Newcastle. Both came from immaculate Kieran Trippier set-pieces with Dan Burn stooping to head in a corner at the back-post despite almost having his shirt ripped from his back before Sven Botman scored his first Newcastle goal with a well-directed glancing header from Tripper's free-kick following a disgraceful tackle on Longstaff by Robinson who, astonishingly, didn't get a straight red card for what was, effectively, assault. In fact the only things that spoiled an otherwise perfect forty five minutes (plus six minutes added time) for United was Callum Wilson missing a trio of chances (two quite difficult admittedly but one, a relative sitter) and a mystifyingly dubious VAR call depriving Anthony Gordon of a penalty award when he, clearly, had his ankle kicked by a defender. Wilson may have missed three presentable opportunities before the break but got his goal ten minutes into the second-half, heading home in front of a jubilant away end as Trippier completed his own personal treble of assists with another pinpoint cross to mark a half-century of league outings for the club. Five minutes later Elliot Anderson (who had a fine game) passed to Gordon (easily the man of the match) and the winger unleashed an unstoppable effort which curled into the goal - prompting another wave of disconsolate Blades fans to rise from their seats and go home. It was six after sixty eight minutes as Bruno Guimarães played in Miggy Almirón and the Paraguayan finished expertly, having earlier seen another close-range finish correctly ruled out for offside. Eddie Howe then had the luxury of making a trio of replacements; Sandro Tonali, Alexander Isak and Tino Livramento joining the action, replacing Almirón, Wilson and Trippier respectively. Later, recent signing Lewis Hall made his United debut with fifteen minutes remaining. United had already beaten their record Premier League away goal tally but Bruno collected a sliced Longstaff shot to slot the ball in for a seventh. His celebrations included a message to the travelling supporters after recent speculation about his future at the club: 'I'm fuckin' stayin' here!' Isak then produced the coolest of finishes, somewhat reminiscent of Peter Beardsley's memorable goal at Portsmouth all those years ago, leaving defenders sprawling on their arse as he tucked the ball past the shell-shocked custodian Wes Foderingham three minutes from the end. Thus, rounding off what was the nearest thing to a cricket score seen since Yorkshire took their leave of Bramall Lane in 1973.

Unlikely as it seems given the scoreline, Newcastle started relatively slowly and it was the home side which looked the more threatening in the opening exchanges. That all changed the moment the first goal went in and Gordon was key to it, twisting smartly on the byeline before finding Longstaff to finish. Gordon was only on the pitch because of a nasty toe injury to Harvey Barnes but the winger's introduction changed the game. While the match became something of a procession in the second-half, it was the pace and trickery of Gordon down the left that helped Newcastle get into such a position. 'They can't handle Gordon. He is causing them all sorts of problems,' Clinton Morrison told Radio 5Live listeners at half-time. 'They just can't deal with him.' At least, this blogger thinks that's what he said. Smart bloke, Clinton, a snappy dresser and he's always highly entertaining on Sky Sports' Soccer Saturday but this blogger wishes he'd speak proper English occasionally! After a somewhat underwhelming start to their league campaign - losing three of their first five games, albeit against three teams whom a lot of sides are going to lose to this season, Sheikh Yer Man City, the Liverpool Alabama Yee-Haws and Brighton & Hove Albinos - this was a statement win for United which will keep spirits high at St James' Park and add to the belief that they can make their mark domestically, as well as in Europe, this season. For Sheffield, several choruses of 'Are you Sunderland in disguise?' and 'Premier League? You're havin' a laugh' from the visitors suggest they may be in for a long, hard nine months.

Though, at least one Blade was thoughtful enough to bring a good book along with her in case of emergencies.

The winners of From The North's Headline Of The Week award goes to Leicestershire Live's What Is A Cock On A Stick? It's a question we've all, no doubt, pondered at one time or another, dear blog reader. Keith Telly Topping knows he certainly had.

And finally, dear blog reader, a Wiltshire builder who is defying an enforcement notice has now resorted to poking fun at the local councillor who objected to his shop conversion according to the Wilthsire Times. Michael Thomas, has installed a stone gargoyle at one end of the roof at 12 Newtown taking the mickey out of Trowbridge Town Council leader Stewart Palmen. That'll show him. Possibly.

The Square On The Globe

As Doctor Who moves towards its sixtieth anniversary trio of episodes, the usual, annual crap fandom rumours have been doing the rounds (notably on a particular Facebook Doctor Who fan page); these claimed that an 'official' BBC statement had been released which suggested that Doctor Who was ('officially') dumping the 'Timeless Child' storyline into the bin and, effectively, retconning the entire Jodie Whittaker/Chris Chinball era out of existence. Or, as they put it, 'SCRAPPED'. 'In a new statement, the BBC declared: "For some, the story starts with the Timeless Child, discovered all alone beneath a wormhole to a faraway place. Others talk of an old man with white hair who stole a miraculous ship that could travel through time and space, then headed off to see what was out there."' It was quickly pointed out that, quite apart from the fact this doesn't suggest that the Timeless Child conceit has been 'scrapped' or anything even remotely like it, this 'official BBC statement' was, in fact, nothing of the sort. Rather, as David Howe (someone who does, actually, know what he's talking about with regard to Doctor Who) pointed out, '[these] words are taken from the new Doctor Who annual so, presumably, [were] written by Paul Lang.' So, dear blog reader, how does Russell Davies feel about stories that he is, effectively, 'cancelling' (another very current Interweb buzz-word) Jodie Whittaker. It's fair to say that Big Rusty isn't taking such rumours very seriously. Writing in his regular column for the Doctor Who Magazine's October issue (the one with Bonnie Langford on the cover), Rusty cheekily touched upon the issue whilst talking about footage from the new series of the show, which will star Ncuti Gatwa as The Doctor (you knew that, right?) 'Oh my God, the TARDIS, the Jodie exterior, she has not been erased,' he said. 'And yet, by not erasing her, are we erasing the argument that she's been erased and therefore this is an act of erasure, is it?' Of course, that didn't stop either Radio Times (which used to be run by adults) or the Gizmodo website (no, me neither) reporting this shit like it was actual 'news'. November, frankly, can't come quick enough so that we have three new episodes to talk about and not a bunch of speculative nothing based on Big Rusty being wry and amusing when writing his Production Notes.

Screen Rant - another media outlet which could, frequently, do with a damned good hiding over the half-stories which they spread from speculation and misunderstood one-liners and/or jokes - reports (for once, entirely accurately) that Matt Smith and his former co-star Jenna Coleman reunited ten years after their 'team-up' on the BBC's popular long-running family SF drama. In images posted by the Daily Scum Mail (if not anyone slightly more reliable), the pair were seen posing for a picture together at the BGC partners' annual charity day. And, very sweet they look, too (admittedly, it would've looked even sweeter if that bloke glued to his mobile phone hadn't got his big head in the way of the person taking the shot).

Screen Rant, helpfully - and, seemingly, working on the assumption that those people reading their article watch Doctor Who and precisely nothing else either on TV or at the cinema, then give a two-paragraph update on exactly what Smudger and Jenna have been doing their their lives and careers post-Doctor Who.

Dear blog readers with, let's be honest, not that long a memory may recall that back in November 2022 this blog, along with large chunks of the UK media, reported the legend that is Miriam Margolyes would be part of the Doctor Who sixtieth anniversary celebrations. Chief amongst these reports, was a piece in the Sun (if not somewhere more reliable). Well, dear blog reader, earlier this week, the BBC press office finally got around to confirming this news, in a press release which stated that Miriam will be voicing the character of The Meep in the anniversary episodes (or, at least, in one of them). Of course, inevitably, despite this 'news' being over ten months old, just about every national newspaper and media outlet in the country dropped their shit at the chance to do another Doctor Who-related story and went for it. Take, for instance, the Gruniad Morning Star, the Independent, the Radio Times (which used to be run by adults), Empire, the Digital Spy website, the Daily Scum Mail, the Northern Echo, the Evening Standard, the Daily Scum Express and, of course, the good old Current Bun their very selves, the people who started off this story ten months ago. It's called 'space filling,' dear blog reader and, if you look it up on Google, the number one link will be to the Sun. They're past masters at it.

There's a very good interview with Bonnie Langford - Highway To Mel (you can tell they've been wanting to use that title for years! - in the latest issue of the Doctor Who Monthly (the one with her on the cover). Which Radio Times (it used to be run by adults) has taken a few selected quotes from an built a, not very good, article around. You can read it, if you have a higher tolerence for trivia, here.

Or alternatively, you could, actually, buy the magazine (issue five hundred and nine five) available from all good newsagents (and, some bad ones) for just seven of your English pounds and ninety nine of your English pence.

And now, the weather. The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House, dear blog reader. A visual representation from earlier this week.

That is, without question, positively the last time that this blogger ventures out into The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House gardens with his new weed trimmer whilst Captain Marvel is in the vicinity. Risky business.

It's jolly nice to see, dear blog reader, that Facebook appears know to Keith Telly Topping and his choice of fiends better than he knows his very self. And to have amended his page accordingly. Because, like the song said, you've got to have fiends.

So, dear blog reader, you've got your Afghan coat and your Moroccan hat and your purple suede zipper jacket and your Fair Isle jumper (see previous From The North bloggerisationism update). What else are you going to need for a night out at The Disco? Strides, obviously. Make this blogger's maroon, if you please.

And, you're probably doing to want a skinny tie to go with all that flash clobber (if it's not skinny enough don't worry, they can narrow it for you).

It took until the third series of The Professionals (circa 1979) before - perhaps inspired by the success of Eddie Shoestring's early Mod-revival look over on the BBC - William Bodie and Ray Doyle started wearing thin ties, jackets with narrow lapels and reasonably straight-legged trousers (which are so much easier to run in when you're chasing international terrorists around London than a massive pair of Dan Dares). This blogger mentions that because Stake Out - as previously discussed on this blog, one of the three worst episodes of The Professionals - was shown during ITV4's latest repeat run of the rather hysterically overblown Brian Clemens crime drama series earlier this week. However, at least, unlike When The Heat Cools Off and Look After Annie - both also shown this week - Stake Out almost makes it into the 'so bad it's brilliant' column. Almost, but not quite. Barry Jackson and David Collings are the foot soldiers in South African right-wing nut-job Jack Lynn's vastly over-complicated scheme to set off an atomic bomb at a London bowling alley (the very one that Bodie and Doyle happen to be staking out on a completely unrelated case). Pamela Stephenson plays the world's best dressed junkie waiting, if you will, for her man (and, is described on the end credits not as 'Junkie Woman' but rather as 'Attractive Blonde' in a wholly unpatronisingly non-sexist way. Oh no, very hot water). Best (actually, worst) of all Tony Osoba plays a character who may be part of the villainous shenanigans (but, actually, isn't and is a complete red-herring plot wise) and is referred to on the end credits as 'Handsome Negro'. Just a reminder, this was 1978, not 1938. God, it's bad. But, you know, quite funny because it's bad. The episode also includes one of the great ludicrous lines of dialogue in TV history. George Cowley bellowing into the phone: 'We'll need a chopper and the Nuclear Bomb Squad!' Hang on a minute, there's a Nuclear Bomb Squad separate from the normal, run-of-the-mill, Bomb Squad. They must be the least gainfully employed coppers in Britain.

As this blogger alluded to in that 2015 From The North bloggerisationisms update, when Keith Telly Topping interviewed Martin Shaw a few years prior to that - when he was filming George Gently in Durham - this blogger had been warned in advance by Martin's agent not to even mention The Professionals. 'It's not a job Martin looks back on fondly!' However, after twenty minutes or so when this blogger got to the last question he thought he'd risk it and said 'can I ask one, quick, question about The Professionals?' Martin sort of chuckled, rolled his eyes a bit and then said 'oh, go on then!' This blogger mentioned that he had recently been watching the latest run of repeats. This blogger noted that they had not aged at all well but that in just about every episode there would be something; a nicely-directed action sequence for example. Or a bit of amusing dialogue. Or, even just a scene of Martin and Lewis sitting in their Capri being all philosophical and arch about the job and its ramifications. Something just to remind the viewer that the people making the show weren't complete idiots (this blogger, he hastens to add, did phrase it a bit better than that). Martin actually got quite reminiscent; he said that he'd found most of the scripts to be a bit one-dimensional in terms of characterisation (that's not the actual word he used!) but that he'd enjoyed the one-to-one scenes with Lewis. Then he got very enthusiastic about some of the directors (Douggie Camfield in particular). He 'was brilliant,' Martin said. 'He knew how to film action better than just about anyone I've ever worked with.' So, this blogger got a couple of minutes out of Martin Shaw on The Professionals which was more than most other people have ever managed.

Shamefully, when alluding to the three worst episodes of The Professionals to fiends, this blogger completely forgot about Long Shot, another one shown this week on ITV4. In which a badly-dubbed Roger Lloyd Pack plays, essentially, Carlos The Jackal. Because, if you need a swarthy-looking assassin of no fixed accent to rub out British TV's only Arab Sheikh (Nadim, mate, they don't call it typecasting for nothing) then Trigger has simply got to be the man with his finger on the ... you get the general idea. Plus, Ed Bishop in one his finer 'just give me the money' performances as, obviously, British TV's stock loud-mouthed US politician.

On a side note, we may (rather patronisingly) pity Nadim Sawalha for always getting cast as British telly's stock Arabic character but, we really shouldn't; the chaps was, after all, in regular paid employment during those hugely important years when Nadia and Julia were growing up and needed pocket money. And, he was great in the vast majority of the (often rather substandard) dramas and comedies that he was in. Especially that episode of The Sweeney (Visiting Fireman). Albeit, playing a Turk on that particular occasion.

Finally, in relation to that 2015 blog post which we've mentioned twice already - this one - re-reading the final item of it reminded this blogger of an incident which he had completely forgotten about; the night that he opened his bedroom curtains having heard a noise from outside to be confronted by the remarkable sight of a chap with his strides down around his ankles, strumming his banjo during the hours of darkness up against the wall outside the manicured lawns of The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House. Quite how this happenstance had slipped from this blogger's memory is unclear (early on-set dementia, possibly) since, to be honest, in and of itself it is the sort of thing that one should never forget. It was the look on the chaps face - a mixture of self-loathing, arousal and hoping that he was, shall we say, 'bashing the right chord' that made it art. Ahem. Next ...

All of which jiggery pokery and banjo strumming nonsense, bring us to Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Forty Eight: The Hand Of Night. Diane Clare: 'Did you kill them?' William Sylvester: 'That's a pretty brutal question to ask, don't you think?' Diane Clare: 'Life's a brutal business. Belsen, Hiroshima. They say the good's getting better, but that could mean the bad is getting worse, too.'

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Forty Nine: The Skull. Patrick Magee: 'His throat was torn exactly like the Marco case.' Nigel Green: 'What's the connection?' Patrick Magee: 'What connection could there be? Witchcraft?' Nigel Green: 'Hardly. Not in this day and age.'

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Fifty: The Hound Of The Baskervilles. Peter Cushing: 'The dagger is gone! Don't you realise what that means? Sir Henry is to die. Tonight!'

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Fifty One: The Tomb Of Ligeia. Vincent Price: 'The eyes, they confound me! There is a blankness, a mindless sort of malice in some Egyptian eyes. They do not readily yield up the mystery they hold.'

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Fifty Two: Fiend Without A Face. Kim Parker: 'Laboratory? I didn't know you had a laboratory?" Kynaston Reeves: 'There are many things about me that you do not know, my dear. Or you would have never come to work for me!'

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Fifty Three: The Projected Man. Tracey Crisp: 'I'm sure I'll never get it right, professor.' Bryant Halliday: 'Don't be frightened Sheila. When I raise my hand, press this. When all these lights are on, press this. The sound will then die down and rebuild. I've programmed the entire second stage. All you have to remember is when all these lights are burning, press this. When this is all over you can tell your boyfriend you helped in an experiment that made scientific history!'

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Fifty Four: The Face of Fu Manchu. James Robertson Justice: 'Oh, by the way, what was the name of that Chinese man you were talking about?' Nigel Green: 'Fu Manchu!' James Robertson Justice: 'Never heard of him!'

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Fifty Five: The Haunted Strangler. Anthony Dawson: 'I don't know why you social reformers always want to play detective to prove your theories.' Boris Karloff: 'Because you detectives always leave such gaps on your investigations.'

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Fifty Six: The Earth Dies Screaming. Virginia Field: 'Do you know what's happened?' William Packer: 'No I don't. I took a plane up this morning for a shakedown flight and when I went up everything was normal. When I came down, everyone was dead. I drove all day. You're the first folks I've seen alive.'

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Fifty Seven: Island Of Terror. Peter Cushing: 'What the devil did Napoleon do on that island of his to keep himself busy?' Edward Judd: 'He invented solitaire?' Carole Gray: 'I've a much better game in mind.' Peter Cushing: 'Can three play?'

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Fifty Eight: Taste The Blood Of Dracula. Michael Ripper: 'Son hates his father, he's hot-blooded, they quarrel and the son loses his temper. Anyway we've got him all locked up now, safe and sound.' Anthony Higgins: 'But Jeremy did not hate his father. He was the most even-tempered ...' Michael Ripper: 'If you came here to obstruct justice ...' Anthony Higgins: 'I came here because you sent for me!'

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Fifty Nine: Circus Of Horrors. Anton Diffring: 'Quick, get her to a doctor. And send the clowns in!'

There's a song in there, somewhere. Probably.

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Sixty: Quatermass 2. Brian Donlevy: 'They tell me you have no police here?' Charles Lloyd Pack: 'Police? We don't need them - we are a law-abiding community, aren't we?'

This blogger made some pasta to go with the leftovers of the beef tikka masala that he mentioned in the last From The North bloggerisationisms update a couple of weeks ago. Which made for a unique taste combination even for the world-famous gourmet kitchens of The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House. Sadly, it also ended in complete and utter bloody disaster as this blogger - like the total raas clot he can be at times - left the masala sauce, accidentally, on a cooker ring which he thought he'd turned off but, you know, hasn't, whilst he went into the front room and scoffed his grub. Early on-set dementia again, dear blog reader, it's the only answer. All of this, of course, only went and utterly ruined the best stainless steel pan in the entire gaff. We've had some good time, that pan and this blogger. But now, it's gone to that great scouring pad and dishwasher in the sky. Rest in pieces, faithful and trusty pan. You made great curries, boiled good rice, heated up soup a treat and you catered to this blogger's occasional craving for some Heinz spaghetti on toast. You will be missed.

Luckily for this very blogger, all of this malarkey occurred during the very fortnight that Wilko's was going into administration. So, this week, Keith Telly Topping went into the Shields Road shop and bought himself a more-than-decent replacement (and a tasty little frying pan to go with it for whenever he fancies whipping up a mushroom omelette). Top (if exhausting) work, even if this blogger does say so his very self.

There really is nothing on Earth, dear blog reader, quite like a 'twenty per cent off everything cos we've gone bust' sale at Wilko's to bring out the very worst in people's manners. Watching two large middle-aged women quite literally about to come to blows over which of them was getting the last Glade Plug-In air-freshener was, trust this blogger, quite a sight. Even for Byker.

This blogger always enjoys having a quick shufty around his local Morrisons' clothing department on the off-chance of picking up a bargain. This week was just such an instance, with this blogger finding a pair of normally-eight-quid-but-now-retailing-at-but-two-smackers boxer shorts. This was the second occasion that this blogger had happened on just such a bargain and the reason for the reduction in price, in both cases, was exactly the same. They were underwear of a Christmas design (one with a sort of Christmas Trees motif, this latest one featuring reindeer in party hats). Keith Telly Topping bought them working on the assumption that he doesn't particularly care what they look like per se (so long as they're not covered in shit, obviously) since he will be the only one to actually see them when he puts them on as, the rest of they time, they will be covered by this blogger's trousers. Unless, in a one-in-a-million chance, this blogger happens to have a consenting partner of his choice in The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House whilst he is in a state of some undress. And, even then, this blogger has a response worked out in case surprise is expressed at him wearing what appear to be Santa's keks. To wit: 'Every day's Christmas in this bedroom, baby!' It could work.

Also, a quick note that Q Branch now appear to be moving into the retail sector just as Wilko are moving out of it. 'Have 'em in the shops by Christmas, Q.'

In other news, as usual after coming out of the pool and standing under the hairdryer for five minutes, this blogger's riah resembles Barry Gibb at his most blow-waved. Tragedy.

We, therefore, come to the part of From The North dedicated to this blogger's medical malarkey. Or, strictly speaking, malarkeys as there are several of them. For those dear blog readers who haven't been following this on-going fiasco which appears to have been on-going longer than the universe pst-Big Bang, it goes like this: Keith Telly Topping spent some weeks around Christmas 2021 into the New Year feeling rotten; experienced five day in hospital; was discharged; received B12 injections; then more of them; somewhat recovered his missing appetite; got an initial diagnosis; had a consultant's meeting; continued to suffer from fatigue and insomnia; endured a second endoscopy; had another consultation; got (unrelated) toothache; had an extraction; which took ages to heal; had another consultation; spent a week where nothing remotely health-related occurred; received further B-12 injections; had an echocardiogram; was subject to more blood extractions; made another hospital visit; saw the unwelcome insomnia and torpor continue; received yet more blood tests; had a rearranged appointment; suffered his worst period yet with the fatigue. Until the following week. And, then the week after that. Oh, the fatigue, dear blog reader. The depressing, ceaseless fatigue. He had a go on the Blood-Letting Machine; got another sick note; had an assessment; was given his fourth COVID jab; got some surprising but welcome news about his assessment; had the results of his annual diabetes check-up; had another really bad week with the fatigue; followed by one with the sciatica; then one with the chronic insomnia; and, one with a plethora of general cold-related grottiness. Which continued over the Christmas period and into 2023. There was that whole 'slipping in The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House bath and putting his knee through the side' thing; the painful night-time leg cramps; getting some new spectacles; returning to the East End pool. Only to discover that he remains as weak of a kitten in the water. Or, indeed, out of it. Feeling genuinely wretched. Experiencing a nasty bout of gastroenteritis. Had a visit from an occupational therapist. Did the 'accidentally going out in my slippers' malarkey. The return of the dreaded insomnia and the dreaded return of the fatigue. The latest tri-monthly prickage; plus, yet more sleep disturbances and another bout of retinology.

Twice this last fortnight, dear blog reader, yer actual Keith Telly Topping has done the whole Bus-Pool-Bank-Post Office-Bus-Wilko's-Morrisons Café-Morrisons-Greggs-Bus-The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House thing. And, twice, he has ended up pure dead exhausted and ready for his bed in the middle of the afternoon. Which, according to both the Gruniad Morning Star and the Huffington Post is supposed to be rather good for you. And, according to The Times and the Daily Mirra, really isn't. If possible, could you guys get your heads together and sort this issue out one way or the other, please? Because, you know, some of us would rather like to know whether it's helping or hindering.

Meanwhile, a recent Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House post delivery brought Keith Telly Topping an application form to claim his Civil Service pension. Reminding this blogger (because, obviously, he'd completely forgotten otherwise) that he was, at that time, a mere but six weeks away from his sixtieth birthday. Don't all look quite so shocked, will you? Time flies ... when you throw your clocks out of the window, apparently.

BBC News reports that India has successfully launched its first mission of the Sun. One trusts they're going at night, otherwise it might be a bit hot when they get there.

Mind you, the same website (which, like Radio Times, used to be run by adults) also reports that Japan has 'joined [the] race to Moon with a successful rocket launch.' The 'race to the Moon', eh? Hang on, what's that sound this blogger hears in the far distance? Why, it's NASA doing a rather decent cover of The Stooges '1969'.

There are people that will try to convince you, dear blog fiends, that the concept of nominative determinism simply doesn't exist. This blogger begs to differ. And, he cites the story that the soon-to-be-former Tory MP Chris Pincher has quit parliament after extremely losing a 'groping appeal' as exhibit number one for the defence.

It's a sad indication of this blogger age, he believes, but every time Keith Telly Topping hears the phrase 'now is the time' beginning a sentence, in any context (as this blogger did one day last week when listening to the news), this blogger's mind immediately goes to two separate places at once; Neil The Hippy saying 'Now is the time for me to finish painting my astrological chart' in the Oil episode of The Young Ones. And, simultaneously, to a band that John Peel used to have on his show quite a bit circa 1982 called Now Is The Time To Forget The Whimpering Child, Become The Warrior. This blogger struggled to remember what they even sounded like, but they couldn't have been any worse than the brilliantly-named-but musically-somewhat-limited The Night The Goldfish Died from around the same era, a band so obscure that this blogger can only find but one reference to them on the entire Interweb (concerning them having, seemingly, inspired the name of another outfit, The Dead Goldfish Ensemble).

Music frequently reminds this blogger of the utterly daft questions that his mother often used to ask him about the records he was listening to at any given moment. Example number one: Hearing 'Tighten Up (Part 1)' on The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House random playlist this week. Once, many years ago, Keith Telly Topping was listening to that very song when his mother suddenly asked, 'who's this?' 'It's Archie Bell & The Drells, mam' this blogger replied. 'Whom?' This blogger repeated their name, more slowing this time. 'Why are they called that?' she asked. 'I dunno, maybe because it rhymes?' this blogger replied. She pondered this answer for moment then said 'Well, it's a silly name, anyway.' This blogger merely added that, since they were on Atlantic Records, she might want to write to them, care of the address on the label, as this blogger was sure Archie his very self would be really interested in hearing her views on his backing band naming policy.

Or, there was a time (example number two), when this blogger was listening to Cockney Rebel and my mother suddenly became very interested to know exactly why Judy Teen 'got sick of the scene'. This blogger said that he had no earthly idea why this had occurred but, he was sure that he could find a phone number for Steve Harley so she could quiz him on what the lyrics were all about and leave this blogger alone to finish listening to the song in a bit of peace and quiet.

This blogger's father, on the other hand, always found Edwyn Collins's 'woah-oh-oooh' bits at the start of Orange Juice's 'Felicity' extremely irksome. So, this blogger used to play that one a lot. It was, after all, the sound of happiness.

This blogger has only ever seen the Northern Lights about four times in his entire life (and three of those have been within the last decade when, apparently, due to certain atmospheric malarkey of which this blogger knows little the appearance of the borealis has become a much more regular happenstance than normal). Sadly, living in a city full of light pollution, they never - and this blogger means, never - look anything like this. (That's Sycamore Gap, near Housesteads, incidentally.)

And, finally dear blog reader, this. Which, of course, wins the Internet.