The (re)Generation Gap
There are, of course, many Who fans out there for whom Who is a recently discovered passion. For whom the 2nd Doctor is David Tennant rather than Patrick Troughton.
But with nearly 50 years of material where to begin.
Luckily Matt is here to help us plug the (re)Generation Gap.
But with nearly 50 years of material where to begin.
Luckily Matt is here to help us plug the (re)Generation Gap.
21st of May 2011
Episode 4: Marco Polo
By Matt Crossman
“So James,” I said, “You ready for the next Doctor Who?”
“Yeah!” exclaimed James.
“Go and get it then” and off he trundled to the large book case that houses our Doctor Who collection. The minutes past and I waited patiently and still James did not return with the next Doctor Who story. Finally I gave up and called after him.
“James! What’s keeping you so long?” In came James.
“I can’t find it.”
“Well, it’s there. I saw it this morning. It’s next to “The Edge of Destruction.”
“No it’s not.” Replied James.
“Yes it is.” I retorted.
“No it’s not.” Came the all too obvious reply.
Realising that I was going to have to get up off my backside to prove my six year old Son wrong I walked over to the bookcase and withdrew the next DVD.
“See. Told you it was there.”
“That’s not the next story.” James said.
“Yes it is”
“No, the next story, according to my book is “Marco Polo.””
“Ah, well, the problem is that the story “Marco Polo” doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Why not?” said James.
“Because, many years ago, the people who made the programme ran out of space to keep them so they recorded over them with other programmes.” I explained. I could already see James’ face adopting that sulky look I was all too familiar with.
“Who did this!?” James demanded to know.
“Well, I don’t know their names exactly. Just some silly arses. So you want to watch the one after “Marco Polo”?” I asked.
“No” Mumbled James and off he went to pout with his Doctor Who episode guide book.
A few minutes later and Mum passes through.
“I thought you two were going to watch a Doctor Who?” she says.
“No, changed my mind.” Says James.
“Why’s that?” asks Mum.
“Because of the silly arses.” Replies James.
Mum gives me one of those looks and returns to the kitchen whilst James buries his head back in his book and I return to my newspaper.
Ten minutes later James closes his book and looks wistfully at the darkened television and then says, to no one in particular,
“Sounded like a really good one. Silly arses.”
“Yeah!” exclaimed James.
“Go and get it then” and off he trundled to the large book case that houses our Doctor Who collection. The minutes past and I waited patiently and still James did not return with the next Doctor Who story. Finally I gave up and called after him.
“James! What’s keeping you so long?” In came James.
“I can’t find it.”
“Well, it’s there. I saw it this morning. It’s next to “The Edge of Destruction.”
“No it’s not.” Replied James.
“Yes it is.” I retorted.
“No it’s not.” Came the all too obvious reply.
Realising that I was going to have to get up off my backside to prove my six year old Son wrong I walked over to the bookcase and withdrew the next DVD.
“See. Told you it was there.”
“That’s not the next story.” James said.
“Yes it is”
“No, the next story, according to my book is “Marco Polo.””
“Ah, well, the problem is that the story “Marco Polo” doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Why not?” said James.
“Because, many years ago, the people who made the programme ran out of space to keep them so they recorded over them with other programmes.” I explained. I could already see James’ face adopting that sulky look I was all too familiar with.
“Who did this!?” James demanded to know.
“Well, I don’t know their names exactly. Just some silly arses. So you want to watch the one after “Marco Polo”?” I asked.
“No” Mumbled James and off he went to pout with his Doctor Who episode guide book.
A few minutes later and Mum passes through.
“I thought you two were going to watch a Doctor Who?” she says.
“No, changed my mind.” Says James.
“Why’s that?” asks Mum.
“Because of the silly arses.” Replies James.
Mum gives me one of those looks and returns to the kitchen whilst James buries his head back in his book and I return to my newspaper.
Ten minutes later James closes his book and looks wistfully at the darkened television and then says, to no one in particular,
“Sounded like a really good one. Silly arses.”