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 @BBCDoctorWho 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?
