Griffiths Nick - Dalek I Loved You: Doctor Who 50th Anniversary Special Edition

Nick Griffiths

Published by Harrison Dextrose Publishing

Copyright 2013 Nick Griffiths

Also by Nick Griffiths:

Who Goes There

In the Footsteps of Harrison Dextrose

Looking for Mrs Dextrose

Further info: www.nickgriffiths.co.uk

Twitter: twitter.com/mrsdextrose

Watch the video interview here

A very funny book for anyone who wore Tom Baker underpants I know I did

DAVID TENNANT

For my Mum & Dad

Id been thinking about updating Dalek I Loved You for some time. Theres no mention of Matt Smith in here, for a start, though I met him twice; once, in a giant cigar humidor.

Elsewhere, I know I pulled a few punches and though I have no scores to settle nor any intention of bruising anyones feelings, there were one or two places where I could have been if not more blunt, at least less kid-gloves.

Id never taken advantage of the ebook medium, merely presented the printed version in a digital form. Where were all the pictures (previously youd have to source a small selection via my website)? Where were the links?

Ive also been sitting on a vast stack of cast interviews, which have been gathering digital dust. For the first three years of the Doctor Who reboot, Radio Times had me create features for every episode, interviewing stars, guest stars and back-room bods of every description.

Back when I first wrote DILY, those transcripts were too fresh to repeat. Now, with Radio Times itself owned by a private equity company having been sold by the BBC, plus a sense of history having passed over the contents, it feels right at least to peek into the archive. As I shall do in this Special Edition.

Then theres the 50th Anniversary itself. As a landmark in television terms, that is little short of incredible. Current affairs programmes aside, in the UK only The Sky at Night (1957 onwards), Blue Peter (1958 onwards), Coronation Street (1960 onwards) and University Challenge (1962 onwards, with breaks) have run for longer.

As with University Challenge, there have been hiatuses, which only adds to the bewilderment.

When Doctor Who disappeared in 1987, its star character, once the wisest gent in time and space, had become a bit of a joke. When he returned in 1996, despite the cast being led by an actor of Paul McGanns substance, it just didnt gel. It says everything that I watched that TV movie once when it went out, then never again.

Yet here he is: more popular than ever, rejuvenated, tooled up, bouncy, bonkers, brazen and hell! sexy.

To tie in an overdue update with the Doctors own 50th year in existence feels only right.

1. A few names have been changed, to protect the innocent. Annoyingly, the only name I can't change is my own.
2. These are my memories of events, some of which took place more than 35 years ago. I cannot always guarantee their accuracy (though where facts are checkable, I have done so). But this is a book about impressions that lasted. I could not put it any more perfectly than lovely Uncle Monty did, in Withnail & I: There is no true beauty without decay.
3. The eBook (less Special Edition updates) is an electronic version of the Dalek I Loved You paperback, originally published in 2008. It encompasses the seven chapters of the hardback, plus an update (Chapter Eight) which was written after the third season of the new Doctor Who. Like the television stories themselves it has become a snapshot in time: a vivid memory of how it all was.

My name is Nick and I am a Doctor Who fan.

Don't let that put you off me, if you're not Who-inclined. I also love David Bowie, Interpol, Boards of Canada, Godspeed You Black Emperor and swathes of electronica. I'm a Tottenham Hotspur season-ticket holder, so I do get out. I don't own any black T-shirts with rubbery sci-fi logos that smear when ironed - actually, I would never iron T-shirts, or any type of clothing frankly - nor do I wear an outsized, multi-coloured scarf.

I'm married, with a gorgeous son from a previous relationship - proof that at least two women have been prepared to do it with me - and his name is Dylan, not Gallifrey Davros Zarathustra. I don't spot trains and I don't own a single model of a Dalek.

No, hang on, that's not true. I just remembered the Palitoy Talking Dalek, which I purchased as mute and lovingly restored to its former Ex-ter-min-ate! glory.

And the ancient Rolykins Dalek, which I picked up at a snip.

Equally, if you're a fellow fan, please don't think that I'd want to find a cosy corner of a convention with you, to discuss continuity errors in The Masque of Mandragora, Season 14, Production Code 4M.

(Don't be fooled: I had to look up those production details on the BBC's Doctor Who website - and in doing so got sidetracked into playing Attack of the Graske featuring David Tennant. The internet is a wonderful thing. This morning, I started writing my book and saved the universe.)

With admirable hypocrisy, I am actually wary of other Doctor Who fans. There's an unwritten Nerd Scale which normal people apply to fans of any science fiction/fantasy and I'd like to imagine myself around their 2 or 3 mark. (That framed set of nine Tom Baker bathroom tiles on the wall behind me suggests the truth may rank somewhere higher.)

I fear that if I mingle with Whovians - other people are Whovians; I am a Doctor Who fan - around the 7 or 8 mark, my own rating might creep a little higher. Of course, most other Whovians are thinking exactly the same of me. It's a tough one.

Most frustratingly, because I love Doctor Who, people imagine that I love every other form of sci-fi. I would sooner bed down for the night among argumentative raccoons than watch an episode of Stargate. Star Trek bores the pants off me. It's so earnest. I put all Star Trek fans somewhere around 8 or 9 on the Nerd Scale, again the hypocrisy not being lost on me.

The over-riding reason that I regard Doctor Who with such affection is that it transports me straight back to my childhood. It's my own time-travelling Tardis.

Any time I'm feeling low, or admittedly sometimes for no reason other than errant laziness, I'll draw the curtains, pull out a classic Jon Pertwee or Tom Baker story and take myself back to a time before bills addressed to me landed on the doormat and girlfriends announced that they were leaving because I was barely more liveable-with than Pol Pot.

Rarely do I tell anyone about these video trysts. Doctor Who fandom is definitely a badge, worn with pride among fellow admirers and hidden from view on the high street. People make assumptions about you. Not always glowing assumptions. Some of them think you want to follow them home, bleating about Zygons, then sellotape their heads to a television screen while playing The Five Doctors on the DVD.

It hasn't always been easy, remaining accepted in society.

How did I get into this mess?

People will tell you they can remember their precise whereabouts when JFK was assassinated, the moment Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon, or when they heard that Princess Diana had died. In my case, respectively: not alive; in bed asleep; and waking up after an night of cider abuse and resultant fumbling with a lovely/drunk woman in Stourbridge. That's three women who have slept with me so far. Feel free to keep a tally. Actually, don't, because the number doesn't rise significantly.