The TARDIS doors are being thrown wide open as BBC iPlayer welcomes the biggest collection of Doctor Who ever to the platform with hundreds of episodes becoming available for the very first time already. Before the sixtieth anniversary specials hit our screens next month, viewers will have the opportunity to travel back in time with any of The Doctors through the BBC's popular long-running family SF drama's sixty year history. Or you could just play your exteremely expensive blu-ray sets. Either or. BBC iPlayer's back catalogue and the online archive will launch on 1 November. As the perfect companion to the back catalogue, the BBC will simultaneously launch an extensive online archive from the show's history at bbc.co.uk/doctorwho, with everything from interviews with cast to written documents, long unheard audio and behind-the-scenes photos. Together, they will hope to tell the story of the series through sixty years worth of archive gems. The archive invites fans to delve deeper into the show with curated journeys such as the genesis of Doctor Who, where audio from Sydney Newman alongside documents with his original handwritten notes guide you through the origins of the popular long-running family SF drama series. Episodes from Doctor Who's extensive back catalogue will join the post-2005 revival of the show, available for fans to watch on iPlayer and enabling them to revisit The Doctor's formative adventures and some of the series greatest moments. This includes William Hartnell's first encounter with The Daleks, the first episodes made for colour TV with Jon Pertwee and Tom Baker's seven year run. Also included is the 1996 TV movie with Paul McGann, featuring him taking over from Sylvester McCoy (which, presumably, means that the BBC have now sorted out the long-standing rights issues). Every episode on iPlayer will be available with multiple accessibility options, including subtitles, audio description and sign language. Russell Davies said: 'I'd like to thank the BBC for all the hard work, to get this massive back catalogue under one roof, at long last. I'm so excited for new viewers - imagine being eight years old, spending winter afternoons exploring the 1960s, 70s, 80s and beyond. And we're determined this won't be a dusty museum - we have exciting plans to bring the back catalogue to life, with much more to be revealed!' Dan McGolpin, Director of iPlayer and channels, said some stuff as well. But, it wasn't very interesting. The expanded archive will also feature additional gems from over one hundred thousand documents, including memos, correspondence, designs and audience research, alongside orchestral scores of sheet music. Very useful if you happen to have a grand piano in your gaff's front room. Also being added is a selection of audio clips about Doctor Who, including radio programmes, documentaries, interviews and music. So long as the latter includes this, Keith Telly Topping will be happy. An' ting.
Of course, when they collectively heard about all of this, fandom's collective response was nothing if not collectively predictable.
Well, these are exciting times to be a fan (of any age). At least, now, you don't necessarily get laughed at in the streets and, possibly, punched in the mush if you happen to mention in inpolite company that you quite like Doctor Who. This, dear blog reader, is progress.
In other Doctor Who news this week, a very good video from The Confused Adipose (probably not his real name, I'm guessing) popped up which you can check out here concerning the recent filming in Cardiff. Which, of course, this blogger mentioned in a recent bloggerisationism update. Certain evidence from the video suggests that this blogger was correct to pour a bit of scorn on the suggestion by the Radio Times (which used to be run by adults) that these scene were from the 2024 Christmas episodes rather than being pick-up shots from the forthcoming 2023 one. Circus posters briefly glimpsed at the location clearly have 2023 blazoned all over them. As you can see. This blogger knows that Doctor Who is a show about time travel, dear blog reader, but he's still pretty sure that filming taking place in September 2023 is far more likely to be for an episode to be broadcast in December 2023 rather than December 2024. We know the production sometimes gets a bit ahead of itself, but not that much. Another video, from TARDIS Central, which you can find here is also worth a gander and covers pretty much the same topics.
In Russell Davies' monthly column in Doctor Who Magazine, perhaps the biggest revelation to come from his latest series of hints and clues is that none of the three sixtieth anniversary specials will actually be broadcast on the anniversary date, 23 November. Big Rusty called attention to three calendar dates, stating: 'DATES to LOOK OUT FOR. November 1, November 17, November 23. And none of those is the date of the Specials' transmission!' Other highlights from the column include: Rusty's promises a flurry of 'Who-ness' content for 'years and years' (there's a series in there, somewhere, Russell), adding: 'If content is king, then we've got a right royal regal procession coming your way, so stand back!' There's a mention of the new TARDIS interior and allusions to a particularly chilling scene with a character named Sue. Two celebrity historical figures will be making an appearance in the specials. Davies also 'confirms' (well, sort of) a crossover between Doctor Who and his ITV drama Nolly. Pre-production, he added, is 'in full swing on series fifteen. Like the forthcoming series fourteen, it will have eight regular episodes and a Christmas special. Five of the next nine scripts for the upcoming series are 'already in the bag.'
When this blogger posted the most recent From The North bloggerisationism update this picture he used to illustrate one of the stories featured was this one. This blogger is grateful, therefore to his fiend Tony who alerted this blogger to something Leith Telly Topping had missed. That, in fact, this is a new 'special' episode. The Four Showrunners with Jo Whiley as a future Showrunner.
This blogger must tell you now, dear blog reader, that This! Will! Not! Stand! They cannot turn The Showrunner into a ladygirl. It's The Law. This blogger intends to smash his TV set with a hammer and burn his TV licence if such disgraceful shenanigans come to pass. Thanks also, to this blogger's fiend Graham for suggesting that Jo is The War Showrunner - 'she fits in between Russell and Steven (just not in this photo).'
'Jo Whiley is an 'uge Doctor Who fan?' this blogger's most excellent fiend Ian queried. 'I never saw her at The Fitzroy downing a pint of Old Museum while buying the latest issue of DWB and arguing that Pertwee was over-rated? And she was never seen in The Stockpot the next day to my knowledge.' All true, dear blog reader. And, you simply cannot claim to be a Doctor Who fan unless you've done all of the above (and sat through fourteen episodes of The Trial Of A Timelord without gnawing your own foot off during Terror Of The Vervoids).
Another lengthy Facebook discussion this blogger was involved in this week started when this blogger's lovely fiend, Jan, expressed her astonishment that there are still, apparently, some Doctor Who 'fans' who, even at this later stage, have no idea that David Tennant and Cat Tate are shortly to be returning to the BBC's popular long-running family SF drama, much less, that Ncuti Gatwa will be following them close behind. This, then, developed into a discussion on the whole concept of (and, often, pointlessness of) avoiding 'spoilers'. Dear blog readers will be aware from past bloggerisationism rants that this blogger has little time for the whole shrill, bellowed 'No Spoilers!' malarkey. Particularly when it involves something that has actually been released by the BBC themselves (you know, the people who actually make the sodding show) like casting announcements, publicity photos or, especially, trailers. The daft thing is, back in the 1980s, when the Interweb wasn't even a gleam in the milkman's eye, fandom would break its collective neck to find out any tiny scrap of information about a forthcoming story. For example, this blogger recalls when Trial Of A Timelord was a couple of months away from broadcast, someone in fandom that he knew sent Keith Telly Topping about five or six photocopied pages of script from one of the Mindwarp episodes (including the sequence where Brian Blessed was smashing up the laboratory). It was, this blogger has to say, a little like having stolen gold bullion in ones possession. This blogger had to, quite literally, sign a disclaimer that said he would tell no one (that's no one!) what he had received until after the episode was shown ('and, even then, only tell people you trust'). Sadly, these days, there are people who even get offended if someone tells them the titles of forthcoming episodes in case they reveal something the person didn't know. Like, Return Of The Toymaker. Oh, hang on, this blogger has, surely, said too much this time.
Plug time now, dear blog reader. Order this. Now. That is an order (well, actually that's two orders but, you get the cut of Keith Telly Topping's jib, this blogger trusts). If it's a dealbreaker, amongst the one hundred and sixty three authors writing an essay about one particular Doctor Who story (1963 to 1996), is yer actual Keith Telly Topping his very self. And, also, lots of his fiends. It will be published on 23 November (obviously) and it'll be great so get yourselves, forthwith, over to website of those lovely people at ATP publishing and pre-order your copy of Outside In Regenerates immediately. If not sooner.
An observation: If this had been around twenty years ago then this blogger would not have had to spend seven years of his life writing various versions of Slayer and Hollywood Vampire and making lots and lots of money, Keith Telly Topping could've merely stayed in the day job, pointed people in the direction of this video and said 'it's two-and-a-half minutes and it'll explain everything.' Story of this blogger's life, that.
This blogger is currently, in addition to all of the other endless shit that he has on his collective plate, in the process of starting off writing the annual From The North 'Best Of' and 'Worst Of' Awards bloggerisationism for 2023 (it'll be this blog's sixteenth if anyone's counting). It won't be out until the start of December, obviously (Keith Telly Topping has got, at least, to wait until Doctor Who has been broadcast in late November, be fair!) But, already in five days since he started, this blogger has managed to rough out a first draft review for about thirty of the eighty odd shows which will be featured in one or other of the lists (actually, this year there'll be three cos there's a 'Curiosity Of The Year' too). This blogger must note, however, that it is bloody annoying when you note down the name of a show in, say, February that you think might be worthy of a place on either list (this blogger has a document file that he creates at the start of the year and keep updating weekly) but, come October, you can barely remember anything about it. Still, writing the awards list is always a good excuse for casually insulting the opinions of other telly reviewers (particularly thopse from the broadsheets). Keep your eyes open for that one coming later in the year, dear blog readers.
There is nothing on Earth, dear blog readers, quite as a funny as a good From The North favourite Mark Kermode rant about a film that he dislikes; what makes this one art is that it's a remake of and/or sequel to the film that Mark himself regards as the greatest ever made and that he, quite literally, wrote the book on. Stand by for action, dear blog reader, anything could happen in the next eight minutes!
Which, as if by magic, bring us nicely to Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Seventy Six: The Evil of Frankenstein. Tony Arpino: 'I've got it!' Peter Cushing: 'So I observe. And, so will half the county, if you don't hurry up and bring it inside!'
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Seventy Seven: Cul-de-Sac. Donald Pleasance: 'Take back your bloody filthy insinuations and get the Hell out of my fortress!'
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Seventy Eight: The Curse Of The Mummy's Tomb. Leanne Roland: 'It is a pity that Sir Giles couldn't see your point of view.' Fred Clark: 'He's living in the past! This is 1900, you have to think modern!'
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Seventy Nine: Catacombs. Neil McCallum: 'Where does she get all that energy from?' Gary Merrill: 'You're not so badly off.' Neil McCallum: 'At least I'm not married to her! She frightens me, you know? The way she can read minds. Uncanny.'
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Eighty: The Hand. Ronald Leigh-Hunt: 'They've just pulled Talfer out of the river. He's been murdered!'
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Eighty One: Devils of Darkness. Tracy Reed: 'Hey, the man's smiling. See the effect I have? Or is it Johnny Walker?' William Sylvester: 'No, no, no. You were right the first time, wrong the second. Canadian Club.'
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Eighty Two: Invasion. Barrie Ingham: 'If the Russians invade, you'll be sitting here watching that radar and telling me it's a car ferry twenty minutes early!'
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Eighty Three: Twisted Nerve. Billie Whitelaw: 'If I had kicked your father where he deserved, he'd have never walked again!'
'I've got that theme in my head now,' this blogger's Facebook fiend Mark, complained. To which this blogger could merely reply: 'Don't blame me, blame Tarantino for bringing it to a wider audience.'
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror & SF Movies Of The 1950s and 1960s. Number Eighty Four: Fanatic. Tallulah Bankhead: 'Aren't you hungry, my child?' Stefanie Powers: 'Mrs Trefoile, do you have any salt?' Tallulah Bankhead: 'We use not condiments of any kind in this house, Patricia! God's food should be eaten unadorned!'
Just in case you were wondering, dear blog reader, that was, indeed, where Blackadder II got the idea for the 'it's a turnip shaped like a thingy' episode. Probably.
Serious bit of this bloggerisationisms update now, dear blog reader. This blogger was watching the best episode of Lewis - Counter Culture Blues on ITV3 last week (that's the one with Joanna Lumley and Simon Callow). And, a thought suddenly struck this blogger right, hard, between the eyes. Keith Telly Topping hates the fact that being a fan of Lewis (which this blogger is) now has to include a footnote to remind everyone that the co-star (who was really good in it) made this before - albeit only shortly before - he turned into a twenty-four carat certified heedbanging loon. And you have to keep saying to yourself 'I'm not going to turn this off, despite him being in it, because Wor Geet Canny Kevin Whately and Rebecca Front and Clare Holman all seem to be fully-functioning human beings and it's their show as much as (if not more than, in Wor Geet Canny Kev's case) his.
This blogger also hates the fact that two of the great sitcoms of the last forty years, Father Ted and Black Books (and another halfway decent one in The IT Crowd), have to be viewed these days with the knowledge that one of the men writing at least some of those brilliant jokes has turned into a really nasty, wicked and seemingly dangerously unhinged individual.
This blogger hates the fact that the - frequently brilliant, thigh-slappingly hilarious - lyrics of one of the best guitar bands of Keith Telly Topping's lifetime now need to be set in context as a reminder of what a depressingly racially-insensitive individual their author has turned into. When did the world get so complicated? This blogger supposes it was when some people started to develop horrible attitudes.
Of course, inevitably, when this blogger raised these thoughts with his online fiends, the question then develops into a conversation on the old 'can you separate the art from the artists?' equation. Some of this blogger's fiends reckon that they find it too difficult to do so. Too painful. This blogger has argued and continues to argue that it is possible, you have got to do the hard work, sometimes. And, importantly, you have to want to carry on listening to, watching or reading the work of someone when you find out that they have feet of clay. This blogger, for example, never had any sort of attachment to the Harry Potter novels or movies so, the discovery that JK Rowling appears to be not a very nice person impacts on this blogger not in the slightest. However, in other cases this blogger does not find it difficult enough to stop him at least trying (although he's had a lot of practice over the years in discovering that some of his idols are closet twat-bastards). It is, sadly, becoming something that one has to do more and more these days. So, for example, Roald Dahl was an horrific antisemite (and, reportedly, had other unhealthy aspects to his personality). But, he was still a great writer (by any definition of what a great writer is). Joss Whedon is, it has been widely alleged, an awful bully; that doesn't alter the fact that he made three great TV series and their greatness is not diminished for this blogger by the knowledge that he, himself, isn't a very nice person to be around. Roman Polanski is a convicted paedophile rapist. He also made a bunch of movies the majority of which this blogger regards very highly indeed (Claire Dederer has even written a book, Monsters - A Fan's Dilemma which asks the question 'can we love the work of Hemingway, Polanski, Miles Davis or Picasso? Should we love it? Does genius deserve special dispensation?') John Lennon was - and this remains uncomfortable to hear for many of the people who continue to idolise him to quasi-deity status - a deeply flawed human being; an alcoholic junkie who indulged in domestic violence against both of his wives. That doesn't make 'Strawberry Fields Forever' any less of a work of genius. Bill Wyman was a man who confessed to having sex with a twelve year old. But Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers and Exile On Main Street are, still, masterpieces. One of this blogger's favourite records of all time is Rolf Harris' 'Sun Arise', a piece of music and a production (by George Martin) that was, quite literally, decades ahead of its time. Can one listen to that and not think about the fact that Harris - deservedly - spent time banged up for sex offences? There are dozens (possibly hundreds) of other examples to a greater or lesser degree. No one is wholly innocent, most people have their flaws and some of them a very deep ones. It has to be up to the individual as to how one goes about the art versus artists conundrum. But, the bottom line is, if you get to the stage where you find it impossible to separate the art from the artist then you'll likely end up listening to, watching and reading not a whole Hell of a lot. Which would be a shame as there is much of good stuff out there which just happens to have been created by people with a deeply unpleasant side to their personality.
A From The North thought for this (and, indeed, every other) day, now dear blog reader.
We, therefore, come to that 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 orbit of all the moons of Saturn, 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, a further bout of day time retinology andexhaustion.
Last week, this blogger had a horrible head cold. One of those where ones heed feels like it isfull of cotton wool and breathing through ones nose becomes var nigh impossible due to the sinuses being bunged up full of mucus. Long and bitter experience has taught this blogger there is only but one way to get rid of such a condition and it does not involve Lemsip®™. One goes to bed having had a steaming hot mug of honey and lemon last thing and having smothered ones chest with as much Vicks®™ as you have in the house. Next morning, as if by magic, you will awake, blissfully, able to breath properly and without a pounding sickly headache or a numb feeling behind your eyes. It's great! There is, however, one small problemette. This all has the effect of, as this blogger's late mother used to say, 'bringing the cold down from your head onto your chest' and, thus, after about thirty seconds of delirious early morning joy, suddenly, you will start to cough and wheeze and you won't stop for a disquietingly long time. A really painful, hacking cough it is as well. A week later, the cold will be completely gone but the irritating cough remains and will be here for some time to come. And nothing will shift it. Not even Actifed®™. This blogger hates autumn and winter, dear blog readers. Just saying.
This blogger was, as it happens, due for his - he thinks it's now sixth in total - Covid shot earlier this week. Usually, Keith Telly Topping gets them at the Pharmacy closest to The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House but this one was at a different place a bit more distant (still easy enough to get to; a mere fifteen minutes slow limp from home - in fact it's very close to where this blogger used to go to school as a youngling). Anyway, as luck would have it, this blogger got there early but they had just opened after lunch and there was no one waiting so Keith Telly Topping got seen straight away. The whole thing was very swift and efficient and, bonus, this blogger was also offered (and took) the annual 'flu jab which he usually gets at the Medical Centre. So, that's saved him at least one future trip away from the safety of home. This blogger came out of the pharmacy to find that the chip shop opposite was still open so he nabbed a bag of chips and batter to take home for us dinner at The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House. Thus, dear blog reader, this blogger can now definitely confirm that 'pricks and chips' is a thing.
Although, given that this blogger received two injections in the same arm (due to him sleeping on one particular side), he can also confirm that his arm is totally and utterly Jacob's Cream Crackered two days after said injections and that he's got a nasty, livid purple bruise on his bicep. If it's not one thing, dear blog reader, it's another.
And so to the From The North Headline Of The Week award and, this week, Teeside Live has, simply, no competition.
Although, it would've helped if they had explained exactly how the dead rat in question got a job working in the Middlesbrough shop so that it could sell illegal vapes and alcohol to the children of the area. That's one impressive dead rat. With a CV which includes the line 'Retail Customer Service Assistant (Post Mortem)' it must be in virtually permanent employment, surely?
'So, what you're saying is without our knowing it our tickle-my-nuts language is becoming profane?' 'In a thigh, yes.'
Whcih was followed, not unreasonably (or, indeed, unexpectedly), by a lengthy Facebook thread in which various fiends debated (politely) whether Rowen says 'in a thigh' or 'inner thigh'. This blogger could go either way, to be honest, dear blog reader. And that's his whole big thing point, as it were. If this blogger can turn over he likes it better that way to you, have a listen and make up your own mind on which it is. And then, of course, you must cut off their goolies. It's the only solution.
Anniversary time: On this day in 1982, dear blog reader, Stephen Morrissey and Johnny Marr wrote 'This Charming Man'.
Overheard by this blogger on the bus earlier this week on the way back to The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House from Morrisons (genuinely): 'See, Marx was all right, he had good ideas but, his trouble was, he was a Marxist.' True story. This blogger is presuming the chap wasn't talking about any of Karl's brothers, Harpo, Grouchy, Chico or Zeppo.
Boris Johnson's ex-wife, Marina Wheeler, has reportedly been appointed as Labour's new sexual harassment adviser. One imagines that, as with most jobs, a bit of hands-on experience is always useful when going for a new job.
Apparently, dear blog reader, Northumbria National Parks Authority have had 'hundreds' of suggestions about what to do at Sycamore Gap to, you know, cheer everyone up after some stupid with a chainsaw did what he (or she) did. This blogger wonders if anyone has suggested sending for this chap. He may be able to help.
Of course, within seconds of this blogger suggesting that this could be a job for Roger Thee Shrubber, one particularly evil and wicked Facebook fiend (hello, Nick) posted a but two-letter response. Oh, what sad times are these, dear blog reader, when passing ruffians can 'Ni' at will to old TV reviewers with a health condition and a bad back. There is a pestilence upon this land.
And finally, dear blog reader, this blogger simply has to point out there's a bloke who lives down the bottom of our street who looks uncannily like Rick Buckler in this photograph. Stumpy legs and all.
