Dr Who is rubbish

27 Apr

Matt Webb

I was watching the BBC breakfast news on Saturday morning (now that I am well into my late twenties this is the kind of thing that I do with my weekends.) Amongst all the genuine news events that were being reported was a 5 minute section on the new Doctor Who series that was just starting that evening. Unsurprisingly, the critic that they’d invited to comment on the show gave it a mighty thumbs up. What did surprise me, however, was that the critic who was talking with such enthusiasm about the show was a grown man and not an 8 year old schoolboy.

The BBC seems to employ a more brutally efficient propaganda machine than the Nazis. The way they ratchet up the excitement at the beginning of every new series of this shameless crap makes me want to escape to neutral Switzerland. DOCTOR WHO IS RUBBISH, PEOPLE! The only reason we put up with it is because television on Saturday nights has always been rubbish, so nobody expects anything else. The only difference between Doctor Who and all the rest of the Saturday evening crap is that nobody ever seriously tried to tell you that The Generation Game, Catchphrase and You Bet was must see TV.

I don’t know what my Saturday evening will involve this weekend. Drinking, dancing, game of Scrabble, touching myself, who knows? It will certainly not involve “The Doctor”


One Response to “Dr Who is rubbish”

  1. Gogglebox May 27, 2011 at 6:14 pm #

    Everyone knows that Dr Who is rubbish, but it’s the kind of rubbish you can’t stop ingesting, like those shitty nachos at the movies.

    You know those dreams when you’re in your childhood classroom, except there’s no roof and a waterslide where the door was? You’re always too busy having fun on the waterslide and laughing at that kid who always smelled like poo to notice that your brain has served you a steaming pile of mind crap. Perhaps Dr Who lulls us into a kind of dream state where we just don’t notice the drivel we’re being fed, or maybe Derren Brown has used his stupid shows to subliminally incline us to woeful sci-fi.

    Whatever it is, I like spending my Saturday night watching a giant pink turd-like creature called a Star Whale, or what looks like the mating of a human and an octopus with a light fitting shoved in its gob. Yes, I occasionally wonder how the Daleks became the Doctor’s mortal enemy when their mobility is comparable to a Dyson being operated by a chimp – but it’s all g-Ood.

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