The Journal of the Browncoat Cat

Doctor Who : Rose 

Writen by : Russell T. Davies
Director : Keith Boak
Producer : Phil Collinson

Cast
The Doctor : Christopher Eccleston
Rose Tyler : Billie Piper
Jackie Tyler : Camile Corduri
Mickey : Noel Clarke
 

Plot Summary 
Rose Tyler was having what she thought was another ordinary day, getting up at 7.30am, going to work in the Henrik’s, a West End department store, and going through the motions. Then things suddenly became very weird indeed. Shortly after the shop closed for the night, she goes down into the basement to pay her lottery syndicate subscriptions, once there shop window dummies that developed a life of their own menace her. A strange man in leather jacket, calling himself the Doctor, who promptly blows up the shop, rescues her. (more…)

As it was a pleasant spring day, I took myself down to Pontypridd, as staying in, waiting the new episode of Doctor Who was driving me mad. The train was packed to the rafters, as there was an international Football match being played at the Millennium Stadium, Wales v Austria. I could not avoid hearing the conversation of the people I was sitting next to. One said that he had to be home by 7pm. One of the men in the seat in front asked if it was for Doctor Who? The man next to me said it was. The man in front agreed with him that getting home for the first episode was a priority, whilst the man sitting next to him wondered if there would be any pubs in Cardiff with big TV screens showing the episode. I sat there, ever so slightly croggled, after all the hype of the past few weeks, the series is suddenly acceptable again. Just a few short weeks ago, I doubt if the football fan sitting next to me would have said he had to be home in time for Doctor Who, if he had, his friends would probably have been laughed at him.

I had a pleasant meal in the Oriental Buffet, the all you can eat for a fiver Chinese restaurant. and decided to have a wander around the Park. This island of green tranquillity was opened in 1923, as the Ynysangharad War Memorial park, in remembrance of all the men from Pontypridd who died in First World War, and conflicts ever since.

The park was full of people enjoying the early spring sunshine. The park is on the other side of the River Taff from the shopping centre of Pontypridd, the main entrance is by the Old Bridge, but I walked from the town centre, down the lane by the side of Marks and Spencers and over the recently rebuilt footbridge. In front of me were a group of a dozen teenagers, boys and girls, no doubt on their way to the funfair that had pitched itself at the southern end of the park. I could not help but notice that two of the girls were holding hands, and nothing was going to separate them; and this did not raise an eyebrow amongst their friends, either the youth of today are a lot more tolerant than my generation, or I am reading way to much into an innocent gesture.

The mature trees that line the roadways in the park were either lightly green with the first glimmerings of fresh leaves, or had fat brown buds just waiting to burst open, and in the sunshine, it was a pleasant reminder of the better days to come. Naturally, there were daffodils everywhere, but that is something I have learnt, with a pack of paper hankies in hand, to put up with, as long as I kept my distance, I was fine.

And then back home. First train up the valley was cancelled; the second train only ran as far as Porth, and the train I finally got on was twenty minutes late. I should have spent more time in the Park, as it would have been better than the tedium of waiting on Pontypridd Station for an hour.

7pm, Friday, 25^th March, 2005

Now it is down to hours.

After 16 long years of waiting for Doctor Who to return as an ongoing television series, I can hardly believe that the wait is now down to mere hours. God, I am so happy.

I’m about to start work on the final assignment of the final module of degree course. An essay on the nature of the Universe, in 4000 words. I will be writing an University level essay on a topic in Astrophysics. I will say that again because I still don’t believe it. I will be writing an University level essay in Astrophysics. Life does take some strange turns.

Last night, I was watching BBC News 24 with my mother, when I quickly switched over to BBC1 at 9pm to see if the rumours of full length trailers for the new series of Doctor Who were true. Oh boy were they true. The trailer I saw was the 30 second version, it gave a real taster of what we can expect, and I was truly gobsmacked. I have to agree with Clayton Hickman, the Editor of Doctor Who Magazine, if the children don’t enjoy this new series, then they don’t deserve any other television, ever again.
Below is a transcript of the full 50 second version of the trailer, that I downloaded from the Internet last night. It is damn good.

A darkened corridor, in the background we hear the roar and whoosh of an explosion.
Cut to a man in a leather jacket standing in front of a pair of white double doors, head bowed, as if in prayer. Slowly he lifts his head and asks, “Do you wanna come with me?”
Cut to a tracking shot down the corridor. The TARDIS materialisation sound is heard.
Cut back to the man, the Doctor (Christopher Eccleston), he is standing in the control room of the TARDIS, with its brass hexagonal panels on the wall, metal grating on the floor. (The scream at the start of the Doctor Who theme plays in the background, as the theme begins). He continues “because if you do, I think I should warn you.” The camera pans up a series of concentric circular steps to a central mushroom shaped console surrounding a glowing central column, and around the console.
Cut to the shadow of a man running down the corridor.
Cut back to the console room, “your going to see all sorts of things…”
Cut to a scene of the Doctor running for his life down the corridors, a few steps ahead of the fireball.
Cut back to the Doctor in the TARDIS “…Ghosts from the past, aliens from the Future.” The Doctor strides up the steps towards the console.
Cut to the Doctor turning a corner, flames licking at his feet.
Cut back to the TARDIS, the Doctor is now standing next to the console “The day the Earth dies in a ball of flame.”
Cut to a close up of the Doctor fleeing the flames, ominously in the background..
Cut to the Doctor, in the TARDIS. “It wont be quiet, it wont be safe and it wont be calm. But I can tell you what it will be.”
Cut to the Doctor running from the fire ball.
Cut back to the TARDIS, “The trip of a lifetime.”
Cut to the Earth receding into space, the cut to a spaceship over London, crashing into St. Stephen’s Tower, demolishing two of the clock faces of Big Ben.
Cut to a hearse rearing through Victorian Cardiff.
Cut to a missile approaching the White Cliffs of Dover at speed.
Cut to a Dalek in chain, its lights flashing as it screams in impotence.
Cut to the fireball engulfing the screen.
Cut to the interior of the TARDIS.
“The Trip of a Lifetime!”
The Doctor has been joined by a young woman, Rose Tyler (Billie Piper), his friend and travelling companion.
“Doctor Who, Coming soon to Saturdays on BBC1″ intones the female continuity announcer, as the screen fades to red.

I suppose that the fact that it happened on Red Nose Day, the day when comedy is used to help raise huge amounts of money for the charity Comic Relief, helped to soften the news. However the world is still as sadder place today with the passing of Dave Allen. He was the great Irish comedian, whose disarming style, sat immaculately dressed in suit and tie upon a bar stool with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other, always entertained. His biting wit cut strait through the absurdities of life, making them more bearable. Although he was an atheist, he would end his performances with the salutary “Goodnight, and may your God go with you.” and that is a very apt epitaph. Goodnight sir, and wherever you are going, may your guiding spirit go with you.

David Tynan O’Mahoney Allen : 1936 – 2005

After watching the Comic Relief does Fame Academy last night, it suddenly became obvious why there was no third series last autumn.Everyone working on the programme hates Patrick Kealty, the deeply irritiating co-host of the show. Also, it is also obvious that the person who hates him the most is Richard Parks, the Academy’s Headmaster. Mr. Parks is the man with the connections within the music industry that makes the whole programme possible. Without Mr. Parks, there is no show, he can get the record labels to listen to the show’s students seriously, he can get the big name stars to come and do the masterclasses. This man knows so much about the modern record industry, that if he says something about pop music you know it is worth listening to, and Patrick Kealty, a rather tasteless comedian uses him as the butt of his jokes, making him a figure of fun. At the end of the second series, that Richard Parks had taken so much shit from Kealty, that the only reason he is there doing this charity special is because it is raising so much money for such a good cause. It is obvious to me that the reason there was no third series last Autumn had nothing to do with Controller of BBC1 not liking the show, and had everything to do with them not being able to get Richard Parks for the series. Last night, the two nearly came to blows, with Parks telling Kealty to shut up when he interrupted the serious point he was making. So definitely no third series again this Autumn.

What the hell are Adrian Edmonson and Reggie Yates still doing in the Academy? Neither can sing for toffee. Dawn Steele should not have been eliminated on Tuesday night, Ade should have gone that evening. I suppose she was tempting fate, singing a naff song and dressing like a Kings Cross tart, but she was still head and shoulders over Mr. Edmonson.

I have just seen a clip of the drama Mackenzie. It brought back some memories. I cannot believe that it has been 25 years since its only terrestrial broadcast. Mackenzie was based on a novel by Andrea Newman, and was compulsory viewing before the new political debate series Question Time that Sir Robin Day had just launched on BBC1. It was shown around about the time I started getting interested in the opposite sex. As it was set in the sixties and seventies, it was full of women wearing very short skirts, it is probably this series alone that sparked of my obsession with women in mini skirts. Andrea Newman and the BBC have a lot to answer for.

I also remember it was this series that got me interested in the mechanics of broadcasting, at how the BBC worked, because at final episode, that would follow a stupendous cliff-hanger was delayed for a week, so that the BBC could show the annual Reith Lecture. I was incensed by this, how could the BBC treat its viewers with such utter contempt, it was like them saying, “o.k. you plebs, stop what you are doing and be educated for a week, then you can play with your toys again”. I remember my father telling me not to be silly it was only a TV series, and me, being a bolshie twelve year old telling him that the BBC should treat its viewers with more respect. I cannot imagine the management of the corporation pulling a stunt like that today.

As far as I can tell, it has never been shown on any of the UKTV channels, that regurgitate old BBC and Thames dramas ad nauseum, or released on video or DVD, which is a shame, as I would really like to see it again.

20six Comments

(8.3.05 20:05)
Off-topic, but I was wondering if you might have been responsible for this, hmm? Don’t worry, I won’t spill the beans.

(8.3.05 22:06) Nothing to do with me. I am about to post an entry on my opinions on the maggot who did seed it on the bittorrent network.

Today at Buckingham Palace, her majesty bestowed an honorary knighthood on Bill Gates, the man who single-handedly killed the British Computer Industry. All I can say is:

YOU STUPID BLOODY WOMAN!!!!!!!

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A word that has slipped into our everyday vocabulary is Chav.  It is a catchall term for poorly dressed, poorly educated people, usually at the bottom of the social ladder who like a bit of ostentation to brighten up their drab lives.  According to Julie Burchill’s recent documentary, the word originated in the town of Chatham the local Romany were known as the Chavs. The Gypsies, who had little time for banks would carry their wealth in the form of gaudy jewellery.  Eventually anyone who was lower working class and also had a taste for cheap jewellery was also called Chav.  In the past few years, the term Chav has gone nationwide, anyone who wears predominantly sportswear like tracksuits, likes Burberry Check and flashing designer labels (real and counterfeit) and a lot of cheap jewellery like the Medway Romany of the past, are labelled Chav.

It has become popular for the middle class to sneer at less well off that follow this trend. There is a vulgar web sit called ChavScum.co.uk that is filled with nothing but vitriol. However, as Chav is another name for Gypsy it is in fact being deeply racist.  It is basically saying that the lower working class have adopted the style of the gypsy, and there they are something to be despised, like gypsies. If ChavScum.co.uk were to show its true colours, and have gypsyscum.co.uk as its URL, how long it would last before the law rightly took it down, and the authorities prosecuted its webmaster for spreading racial hatred.

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