This blogger would like to thank
all dear blog readers who recently attended the annual
From The North get-together. It was, as you can see from
this photographic evidence, quite a night.
Truth be told, dear blog fiends, yer actual Keith Telly Topping has been in something of a strange, discombobulated state for the couple of weeks since
From The North last received a necessary bloggerisationisms update. Wavering, as it has, somewhere between the great Milton Reid in
Doctor Phibes Rises Again (after he's had that metal blot shot through both ears) and the mad-bad crazed axe murderer outside The Front Door in that
extremely odd 1970s public information film. With little stop over between the two on more occasions than this blogger is entirely comfortable with.
Mind you, dear blog reader, it could (as with many aspects of this blogger's current state of play) have been much worse. Or much better depending on which way you look at it. Take, for instance, this chap who not only has what sounds like the greatest job title imaginable but, also, appears to be proof of the existence of nominative determinism. After all, which beaver ranger can ever resist telling the world all about their beaver ranging activities via
Twitter? (Other social media platforms
are available, of course. Much the
chagrin of Elon Musk. Which is
funny.)
Also, the necessary follow-up question here - does this mean that the collective noun for beaver rangers actually
is a beaver patrol? Cos
that would be wrong on, like,
so many levels.
Since this blogger last had occasion to speak unto the multitude, dear blog fiends, one of the big news story doing the rounds has been that jolly fascinating Nigel Farage chaps
having some problems with his bank. Well, we've
all been there, Nige. Though, admittedly, most of us have received a fairly sympathetic hearing from our bank manager before getting told to piss off and never darken their door again. Was it something you
said, do you think?
There's also, of course, been the whole - still unresolved at the time of writing - Huge Edwards fiasco. Which this blogger has
no intention of touching with a bargepole - oh no,
very hot water. Except to say that there is a pretty comprehensive 'who said what, when and to whom' article on how the story unfolded across its first six days written by the
BBC News website's Jemma Crews and Ian Youngs which you can read at your leisure
here, dear blog reader. It raises as many questions as it answers but it's still admirably balanced. There has also been the fall-out of at least two BBC male presenters who found themselves, entirely wrongly, accused of all manner of nefarious skulduggery on social media in the wake of the
Sun's original - troublemaking - article. Both of which you can read about
here and
here. So, as this blogger previously noted,
From The North has no intention of covering
any aspect of this sad tale of whispers and innuendo.
From The North is a news blog about the entertainment industry, dear blog readers (amongst several other things). When there actually
is any 'news' to report in this matter - as opposed to ill-informed (or uninformed) crass
sneering - this blog may report it. But, this blogger would advise you not to hold your collective breath on
that score.
As widely reported in the UK media (take, for instance, those Middle Class hippy Communists at
the Indy) Russell Davies has shared a picture of himself and the rest of the production crew on the
Doctor Who set, announcing that filming for the forthcoming fourteenth series of the BBC's popular, long-running family SF drama has ended. In the photo, shared to his
Instagram page, Big Rusty poses in front of the TARDIS. He captioned his post with the celebratory words: 'That's a wrap!' Actually, that's a space-and-time machine disguised as a late 1950s Police Telephone Box with a load of people standing in front of it, but Big Rusty was clearly emotional at the time so we'll excuse him his small
faux-pas.
As he says goodbye to
Sex Education and makes his Hollywood debut in
Barbie, Ncuti Gatwa is ready to embark on a journey through time and space as The Doctor. You knew
that, right? In a lengthy and wide-ranging
cover interview with
Rolling Stain magazine, Ncuti talks about identifying with one of TV's most-loved characters and how he plans to reinvent the iconic role.
Lots of new photos of Ncuti have been appearing in the media of late including this
superb shot from the forthcoming series of
Doctor Who which is pure
tasty on all sorts of levels. Nice hat too.
Albeit, the silver hotpants and black socks with boots ensemble he wore to the
Barbie premiere took a little bit more getting used to. But, again, nice hat!
One of the items Ncuti discussed in the
Rolling Stone interview was picked up on, again, by wide sections of the media. The
confirmation that he will play The Doctor for at least two series though, his future beyond that point remains uncertain at this time. In the interview, Ncuti revealed plans to return to the theatre in 2024, after wrapping up the filming of his second series of
Doctor Who. '[Theatre] kept me warm and it held me all night, even if I was broke. But I'm planning on getting back to it next year, after I finish season two of
Doctor Who.' Ncuti also offered hints about his interpretation of the character: 'My Doctor is emotionally vulnerable. He hides it with humour, but he's lonely. I can't say much more than that; I don't want to spoil anything. But he's also energetic! The poor cameramen struggled to keep up.' Furthermore, Ncuti disclosed that his Doctor will sport a wide variety of outfits: 'almost a different one each week.' We've already seen a few of them from location filming, of course. Ncuti related deeply with the Doctor's backstory of surviving a devastating war, a plot element that he equates with his own experience of fleeing the Rwandan genocide with his family as a child: 'This person survived a genocide. This person fits in everywhere and nowhere. I
am The Doctor. The Doctor is me. I decided that I had to get this role.' Ncuti concluded by admitting he spent a week watching every
Doctor Who episode of the post-2005 series, stating: 'I fell in love with it.' Well, a lot of it
is very good, after all.
Things we learned from a recent episode of
From The North's favourite podcast
Kermode & Mayo's Take. Number one: The broadcasting legend - and all-round nice guy - that is Simon Mayo (MBE) was, at the time, seemingly unaware of the correct pronunciation of Ncuti (saying 'Un-cuty' as opposed to the correct
'Shoo-te' when reading out an e-mail concerning the forthcoming series of
Doctor Who). This blogger
did drop the production a quick message to point this out in best 'pedant's corner' style (noting that Mark and Simon will need to know the correct way to say the name very soon when Ncuti rocks up in the forthcoming
Barbie movie). Sadly, this blogger didn't get an e-mail read out on the podcast for the fourth time(!) However, he is certain when Simon next has cause to take the new Doctor's name in vain, he'll have got the pronunciation spot on.
Doctor Who and the
Barbie movie were given a crossover that we never knew we needed, last week. The highly anticipated big-screen adaptation is due to finally hit cinemas soon and to celebrate its arrival, a pink TARDIS popped up in London. Sharing a picture of The Doctor's time machine's new makeover by the River Thames, Warner Bros' official
Instagram account wrote: 'A pink TARDIS from @BBC
DoctorWho has landed on the banks of Tower Bridge.'
Of course, when someone at the
BBC News website did
a piece on the
Barbie marketing campaign (including the pink TARDIS) and asked, quite innocently, 'why are we all obsessed with
Barbie' and this got shared on
Twitter and
Facebook, more than a handful of cheerless fek-faced tossers replied with variations of 'well,
I'm not.' As though that, somehow, made them
special. Do you guys want a sodding
medal or what? Jesus, dear blog reader,
Doctor Who fandom. Don't you sometimes wish someone would put a bloody big
bomb under the entirety of it (this blogger and this blog very much included) and set the bugger off?
National heartthrob David Tennant made what has been
described as 'a brutal quip' at Alex Jones' expense during an appearance on
The ONE Show. But was, actually, nothing of the sort. David was invited onto the BBC series alongside his friend Michael Sheen, with whom he stars in series two of
From The North favourite
Good Omens. David and Michael were interviewed about the new episodes, which are set to be released on 28 July, when Tennant's forthcoming
Doctor Who return was addressed by hosts Jones and Jermaine Jenas. To think, this blogger is old enough to remember when young Jermaine was a highly promising box-to-box goalscoring midfielder for this blogger's beloved Magpies. Until he got tired of 'living in a goldfish bowl' on Tyneside and pissed off to Tottingham Hotshots. The amusing chant of 'one-nil to The Goldfish Bowl' (and numerous variants) became something of a regular feature of Newcastle-versus-Spurs matches over the next few seasons, let it be recalled. Anyway, this blogger digresses. Jermaine told David that his co-star Cat Tate was also recently on
The ONE Show. 'We spoke to her about it and she said it was like slipping back into a comfy pair of slippers - was it the same for you?' Jenas asked. David replied: 'Yeah, I mean fifteen years is quite a long time and you do worry you won't be able to run fast enough anymore.' Jones - she of the paint-stripping Welsh screech and frequently
stupid questions - couldn't contain her surprise at the length of time which has passed since Tennant first played The Doctor, shrieking: 'Is it
fifteen years ago? It's not, David - it can't be.' To which David replied: 'No, you're a lot older than you think you are!' Hardly the 'brutal quip' described by some Middle Class hippy Communist of no consequence at the
Indy who, frankly, wouldn't know a properly 'brutal quip' unless it punched him, hard, in the mush and gave him a fat lip. Jones put her head into her hands as Jenas, Sheen and Tennant's fellow guests, including Nicole Kidman and Zoe Saldaña, laughed.
A lot. 'That's depressing,' Jones replied whilst
still being laughed at.
Three new
Doctor Who books are to be published in the coming months; it has been
confirmed that the the trio of sixtieth anniversary specials will be turned into novelisations.
The Star Beast by this blogger's excellent fiend Gary Russell,
Wild Blue Yonder by Mark Morris and
The Giggle by James Goss will join the Target range in January 2024. Each book will also have specially commissioned artwork by Anthony Dry. The plots for each special are still being kept under wraps, of course, but we do know that they're being broadcast in November and that they will see the return of national heartthrob David Tennant and Catherine Tate. You all knew
that, right?
Doctor Who has given us a reunion between companions Tegan and Nyssa to promote the forthcoming Blu-ray release of series twenty. The series, which was originally broadcast in 1983, focuses on Peter Davison's Doctor and the new home release has been previewed with
a thirteen-minute clip. Written by Pete McTighe, the mini-episode features Tegan (Janet Fielding) in the present day as she receives a mysterious text on her phone mentioning a 'blue box.' Tegan then heads to a fairground, where she meets her old fiend Nyssa (Sarah Sutton), who declares: 'It's been a long time!' before the pair emotionally embrace. Because, genuinely, there is not a text in existence which can't be improved by lezzing it up a bit. Nyssa tells Tegan that she 'hitched a ride', before we see the TARDIS. Nyssa reveals that The Doctor wants to see her. Tegan replies: 'Which one? Scarf or celery, or woman?' Good line. Tegan then enters the TARDIS, where she encounters The Mara (from
Kinda and
Snakedance), who tries to tempt her with her deepest desires. Which Tegan refuses. There's an 'are you trying to tempt me?'/'I come from a land down under' joke in there somewhere if anyone cares to go searching for it. Fans are then given a preview of the nine-disc Blu-ray collection (available for pre-order now), including a special feature in which Davison, Fielding and Sutton go on a European road trip together. Also included is a new ninety-minute version of
The Five Doctors anniversary special, as well as seven new episodes of
Behind The Sofa with the likes of Davison, Colin Baker (The Rubbish Doctor) and Sylvester McCoy. Tegan last appeared in Jodie Whittaker's final episode
The Power Of The Doctor last year, cameoing alongside Sophie Aldred's Ace. And she was
great in it. Nyssa last appeared in 1984's
Terminus. And, speaking of which ...
Writer Stephen Gallagher has revealed why he doesn't want to return to
Doctor Who, saying that newer voices should be heard on the BBC's popular long-running family SF drama. Not that a single person has suggested with any seriousness that there was any likelihood of Stephen returning to the franchise in the first place. But that didn't stop some smear of no importance at the
Radio Times (which used to be run by
adults) from getting paid for writing an utterly
nothing article about this very subject. Gallagher, who recently revisited his 1981 story
Warriors' Gate - a particular favourite of this blogger - for a new novelisation also wrote the previously mentioned four-parter
Terminus which wrote out Nyssa's character (less impressive than
Warriors' Gate but still a solid and impressive space station drama about a leprosy-type virus). This blogger interviewed Stephen twice in the late 1980s and found him a thoroughly nice chap and a very good writer whose TV work also includes
Chimera,
Bugs,
Oktober and
Silent Witness.
Numerous past
Doctor Who cast members gathered to pay tribute to Patrick Troughton as a plaque was unveiled in his honour at his former school. The
Doctor Who Appreciation Society, the show's long-running fan club, collaborated with Mill Hill School in London to place the plaque at the school's Patrick Troughton Theatre. Sylvester McCoy, Sophie Aldred and Frazer Hines were among those pictured in attendance to celebrate the actor. Carole Ann Ford, Hugh Fraser and Michael Jayston and director Graeme Harper were also among those attending, alongside Troughton's children Joanna and Michael. McCoy shared a picture of himself with the plaque,
tweeting: 'Respect.' Troughton, of course, took over from William Hartnell as The Doctor in 1966, leaving the series himself in 1969. He went on to reprise the role several times before his death in 1987. It is claimed that Hartnell approved of the choice, saying: 'There's only one man in England who can take over.' Patrick, himself, liked to joke that he replied: 'But sadly, he couldn't do it so they got
me instead!' The patriarch of a noted theatrical family, Patrick's sons David and Michael and grandsons Sam, William and Harry Melling have all followed him into acting whilst another grandson, Jim, became a fine cricketer for Warwickshire and England.
The fanbases of two totally different BBC shows have been 'sent into a frenzy' (well,
according to some prat at the
Bristol Post, anyway) following the announcement of a crossover episode. Producers at the broadcaster have asked
Doctor Who fans across the nation to put in applications to appear in an episode of
Bargain Hunt, due to be filmed later this year. Following the usual premise of the show *
Bargain Hunt that is,
not Doctor Who), successful applicants will be handed a wad of cash and will be given sixty minutes on the clock as they search for antique items to buy and take to auction. But, this episode of
Bargain Hunt will come with a twist, as the lucky
Doctor Who fans selected to appear on the show will spend an hour delving deep into collections of items related to the series, in celebration of its sixtieth anniversary. A casting call for the upcoming episode was put out by the BBC on the broadcaster's website. Those hoping to appear are being asked to put 'Dr Who' after their full name on the application form, which can be accessed
here. This is
definitely going to feature a pair of Tom Baker underpants, isn't it?
And as for the
Bristol Post's use of the
hateful, horrid 'W' word, this blogger has but one thing to say on
that matter.
Arse.
The last couple of episodes of
Strange New Worlds to arrive as preview discs at The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House have been a reet good laugh:
Among The Lotus Eaters started off as a straight cross between
Apocalypse, Now and
Patterns Of Force and then threw in a bit of
Tabula Rasa for shits and giggles. Cool!
As for
Charades. 'What the f-!'
That!
Was!
Effing!
Brilliant! Including, as it did, possibly this blogger's favourite line of dialogue in
any Star Trek episode, ever (bar none): 'A Vulcan would have a more resilient bladder.'
The most recent two episodes of
The Crowded Room also rocked up at The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague house. The eponymous seventh episode was simply
extraordinary. 'As far as she's concerned,
we're the disease!' A labyrinthine descent into depersonalisation; full of half-whispered conversations in shuttered rooms, abuse monster metaphors and allusions to Yeats, Blake and Shelley. And Tom Holland, Amanda Seyfield, Hello To
From The North favourite Jason Isaacs and Lior Raz acting their little cotton socks off. Possibly the best forty three minutes of television this year so far. And, apparently, one
hated by sick twattish bigots. So, you know,
double bonus. Hey, homophobes of the world, here's a radical idea. How about you do us all a favour, sod off and
die from cancer of the arsehole? If you could manage that, this blogger is sure many would be eternally grateful for your kind cooperation. Thanks
so very much in advance.
As for the following episode,
Reunion. Wow, this series just gets better and better and
better.
Which brings us, as if by design, to the final choice selection from the chocolate box of life that is Magnificently Daft Lines From
Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Ninety Four:
Chosen.
Magnificently Daft Lines From
Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Ninety Five:
As You Were.
Magnificently Daft Lines From
Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Ninety Six:
Graduation Day, Part Two.
Magnificently Daft Lines From
Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Ninety Seven:
The Prom.
Magnificently Daft Lines From
Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Ninety Eight:
Dirty Girls.
Magnificently Daft Lines From
Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Ninety Nine:
Earshot.
Magnificently Daft Lines From
Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number One Hundred:
Doppelgängland.
And, finally Magnificently Daft Lines From
Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number One Hundred One:
Chosen.
So darling blog fiends, we reach that point where, yet again, we replace one semi-regular
From The North feature with another new one. Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number One:
The Quatermass Xperiment. Brian Donlevy: 'There's
no room for personal feelings in science, Judith!'
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Two:
The Curse Of Frankenstein. Robert Urquhart: 'Have you ever been in that laboratory of his? You cannot possibly conceive the dreadful thing he's proposing to do.'
From The North favourite Hazel Court: 'What are you trying to tell me, Paul? That Victor's wicked? Insane?' Errr ... that'd be a 'yes', love.
Casually watching one of those short cat videos which you get loads of posted onto
Facebook (what can this blogger say, dear blog readers? He's a sucker for a bit of amusing
mewing) this one was entitled
My Cat Is Not Fat, Just Big-Boned, this blogger was reminded of one of those great head-to-heads in
Alas Smith & Jones. One where the late and much-missed
From The North favourite
Mel Smith proudly stated that
he was not fat, merely big-boned. 'Do you not think' wondered Griff Rhys Jones, 'that if you didn't go out every night, drink twenty lagers and have two curries that your bones might, you know,
shrink a bit?!'
Do you know what makes this blogger sick, dear blog reader? 'Drinking a pint of salt water and then sticking my fingers down my throat. That makes me
really sick.' You would have to be a brain-damaged moron or the victim of a cruel medical experiment not to agree.
From that, dear blog reader, to a somewhat-related thought. 'This is Hotel Bastardos! You want soft toilet paper, you go Hotel Gayboy!'
This blogger really must check
this movie out some time, dear blog reader. It sounds
great.
Which brings us with the frank inevitability of the frankly inevitable to that part of
From The North dedicated to this blogger's on-going 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 sessions for the second Stone Roses LP, it goes like this: Keith Telly Topping
spent some weeks around Christmas 2021 into New Year 2022 feeling rotten; experienced
five days in hospital; was
discharged; received
B12 injections; then
more injections; somewhat recovered his missing
appetite; got an initial
diagnosis; had a
consultant's meeting;
continued to suffer 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; was given
further B-12 injections; had an
echocardiogram; received more
blood extractions; made another
hospital visit; saw the unwelcome insomnia and torpor
continue;
received yet more blood tests; had
a rearranged appointment for his sick note; 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 sickie; had
an assessment; was given his
fourth COVID jab; got some
surprising 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 New Year. There was that '
slipping in The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House bath and putting his knee through the side' thing; the night-time
leg cramps;
getting some new spectacles and this blogger's
return to the East End pool after over a year of constant inactivity. Only to discover that he remains as weak of a kitten in the water. Or, indeed,
out of it. Feeling
genuinely wretched. Experiencing
a particularly nasty bout of gastroenteritis. And, getting a visit from a very pleasant and actually quite helpful
occupational therapist.
During the last fortnight, dear blog reader, this blogger has continued - at least in part due to the clammy overnight climactic conditions - to suffer from several torturous nights of insomnia and needing-a-pee-every-five-minutes-interrupted sleep. And, several have also been nights of
really disturbing dreams (although, like in the last bloggerisationism update, at least one of them would've made a pretty cool script for a horror movie if this blogger has been taking notes!) Another series of 5.30am starts followed with several cups of red hot sweet Joe and a packet of Rich Tea's ('a drink's too wet without one') inevitably followed.
Monday of this week one of
those sort of days, dear blog reader. You know the sort this blogger means? One of those days where you get up nice and early to get to the pool, the bank and the shops, you leave The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House and get as far as the bus stop and then - and
only then - so you realise that you're still wearing your carpet slippers.
Those sort of days. To be fair, they're suede moccasins so they didn't look all
that ridiculous amongst the shoppers at Morrisons. One supposes, it could have been worse. This blogger could have still been in his pyjamas. Although, he believes he would've spotted
that eventuality. Especially as, at the moment, what with the constant overnight heat and everything, he tends not to wear any. Nevertheless, this is, clearly, yet another symptom to add to this blogger's catalogue of misery - early onset dementia.
Ever since this blogger was naught but a youngling, dear blog reader, he has always used buses. The Telly Topping's we were never a car family; one of the main reasons why this blogger never learned to drive (apart from the whole 'when I had the time I didn't have the money and when I had the money I didn't have the time' thing) was that every job Keith Telly Topping ever had was either self-employed, from home, or on a direct bus route from The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House. Or, in the case of the last job this blogger had, on a direct bus route and then
another direct bus route from The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House (which was one of the main reasons why this blogger left after a year - the commute was a bitch). As a consequence of this, Keith Telly Topping never takes bus drivers and the job they do for granted and always mumbles some form of thanks to them as they put him off at his stop, despite this being, essentially, their job. Well, that and 'do not crash the bus and kill this blogger and everyone else on board,' obviously. So, this blogger will usually say: 'thanks mate', 'thanks pal', 'thanks chief', 'thanks geezer' or some variant thereof. For a while, this blogger used 'thanks Mack' after being
very amused by a stereotypical American tourist asking Roy Castle 'which way to Piccadilly Circus, Mack?' in
From The North favourite
Doctor Terror's House Of Horrors. But, that didn't last long once the joke wore thin. Recently, for some equally obscure reason, this blogger has started saying 'thank you, Brother!' (or, on the odd occasions when he has a lady bus driver, 'thank you, Sister' so as not to discriminate against the Sisterhood. My sister is
not my enemy, dear blog reader). One thing this blogger loathes, however, with some considerable ire and it's something Keith Telly Topping's late mother used to do all the time, is when getting off, hearing someone say 'thank you, driver!' That's crass
jobism - defining the person by their occupation rather than as an individual. This is the Twenty First Century and it's
not on. Probably. Anyway, this blogger always used to tell Mama Telly Topping 'you'll get the shock of your life if, one day, the driver replied "that's all right,
passenger!"' Getting back from a brief pool/bank/post office/Morrisons/Greggs jaunt one day last week, a little old lady was getting off the Number Twelve in front of this blogger and, sure enough, said 'thank you, driver.' This blogger was muttering to his very self 'go on, mate, say it! Say it!
Say it!' 'That's all right ...' the bus driver began and Keith Telly Topping was just about ready to punch the air and click his heels together in
triumph if the bus driver had added 'passenger' to that. But, he didn't and this blogger was, as a consequence,
crushed. It'll happen one day, dear blog reader, make this blogger's words.
Whilst watching the British GP, this blogger found himself rather at odds with
the popular consensus regarding Damien Lewis's Bleeding Gums Murphy-style blues saxophone adaptation of the national anthem. This blogger hasn't laughed so much in
years.
Top comedy stylings, mate. Incidentally, dear blog reader, if you
do check out the above link to the
Daily Scum Express be advised, the word 'slammed' in their title is tabloidese for 'criticised' only with less syllables.
And finally, dear blog reader, how about
this for
From The North's Headline Of The Week?
This, dear blog reader, is a photograph of an area in England sixth largest city, Newcastle Upon Tyne when it isn't raining. Usually in the month of July, that wouldn't be anything particularly extraordinary. But, after the best part of two full weeks with near-persistent deluge, this blogger had to take this image just to remind his very self what dryness actually looks like. 
Someone really did give Saint Swithun something to cry about on 15 July, seemingly. Frankly, dear blog readers, this blogger has seldom seen weather the like of it. And neither, it would appear, has even the professionals. 
Next time that you get one of those really annoying 'prove that you're not a robot' tick-box thingies when attempting to access a website (in search of some porn, perhaps), it is probably worth bearing this in mind. It makes you think, doesn't it? 
Meanwhile, here is a brief observation from this blog's number one spiritual guru (this blogger refuses to indulge in any spirits unless Guru Peter did so first. Often). 'I don't want to go to the theatre to see plays about rape, sodomy and drug addiction. I can get all that at home.' 
'Doctor Who has unveiled the first look at the remodelled Sonic Screwdriver for Ncuti Gatwa's Doctor,' claimed the world famous Good Housekeeping UK website (no, me neither). And, they had the picture to prove it. And here is The Doctor's new sonic screwdriver, dear blog reader. Or, Millie as most of us call her.
On the same day, the Digital Spy website (yes, we've heard of them) had, pretty much, the same story but with one, necessary, difference. They claimed the screwdriver, in fact, belongs to David Tennant's Doctor as would appear in the forthcoming Sixtieth anniversary episodes. 'The BBC has unveiled both a promo shot and a teaser displaying a glossy silver shade for the device along with some gold trim. The sonic energy glows blue in this revamped Screwdriver,' they stated, somewhat more plausibly than Good Housekeeping UK's suggestion. And, pure-dead sonic it looks too. Very handy for putting up some shelves in the event of a Cyber invasion of London.
