Piss & Vinegar

You know your day's off to a rollicking start when you find yourself offending Dr Who fans.

Look, all I said was that Dr Who was "Camp as Christmas". No great shock there, surely?

I must confess I enjoyed the old Timelords adventures as a kid. I still retain a spot for the Peter Davidson incarnation in particular, but the return of the series failed to excite much in me. One grows old and bored I suppose............

Christopher Ecclestone is a fine actor, but his take was rather stiff, like a PE teacher with constipation. Likewise, David Tennent is a good actor, but he seemed to become possessed by the evil spirit of Dick Van Dyke and spent most of his time mugging and hooting like a loon. The two extremes never sat well with me and I switched off. It was enough to make me to hanker after the days of Sylvester McCoy quite frankly. Add to the equation the fact that I'm allergic to both Billie Piper and Catherine Tate, and you end up with something guaranteed to rub me up the wrong way. Anyway, I digress.............

Ok, so I say "Dr Who is camp". At this point, I'm accused of not knowing what the word camp means. Lets be honest, does anyone know what that particular use of the word truly means? It's a bit of a floating definition. To some it means limp wrists and Larry Grayson, to others it means anything that's flamboyant, outrageous and OTT. It's a subjective term. One mans camp is another mans serious drama. To me, Dr Who is ridiculously melodramatic, over-written, over-acted, cliche ridden and ultimately annoying. Maybe it always was, and maybe these are good things, the show undoubtedly still tells good enough yarns to make for entertaining mass appeal TV. I'm just non-plussed as to why someone got all worked up because I thought the show was a wee bit silly.

I was then accused of saying I didn't like things that were popular to make myself look 'intellectual', but that's another story........................

Me? Intellectual?

Then I got verbally accosted by a tramp on the way home. Nice job!! It wasn't even proper abuse. It was that "yeah, just you wait until it happens to you" bullshit. Fucker! Reminds me of the old Bill Hicks gambit about bums.

"Definitely wasn't your personality that put you on the street".

Isn't that the script with begging? Some folk give and some folk don't. I didn't, and in return I get a po-faced lecture. Heres's the thing, I don't think he was a real tramp. No gent of the road worth his half bottle of Frosty Jacky would bother to abuse someone for not giving in such an erudite fashion. I have no proof, but if you see some prick begging at Charing Cross in Glasgow and he gives you any shite for not contribuing, feel free to piss on him, he's probably an undercover Guardian journalist.