Sunday, November 15, 2009

Doctor Who - Everyone Hates Sparacus


Embracing the thought of tasting
My mind's a labyrinth my heart is racing
I'm waiting to escape in a strange reality
A page I wanna paste in.
Why don't you hold my hand?

Surrender? I won't defend ya!
Translation overload! Return to sender.
Are you mistaken? I won't be taken!
I really want it but I promise I'm not fakin!
Why don't you hold my hand?

Ah, god damn the international dateline which means it'll be well into 16th of November in Australia before The Waters of Mars finish and kind folk can upload it for the greater good. (Can you believe New Zealand get first dibs on international screenings? I mean, no ill thought of the Kiwis especially as they have to suffer cheese-stealing soap stars, but you think the ABC would get first offer in Australasia after 40 years of loyalty...)

But while I wait and my guitar gently weeps (it's actually a xylophone with an identity crisis) I stumble across the Doctor Who Twittersode (download... if you DARE).

Have you heard of it? No. Nor had I. Nor has anyone, apparently, on Gallifrey Base and there are people there who have ripped out Moffat's brain, cut it open, counted the rings and discovered he intends to make Lucie Miller a TV companion. And, no, sadly, that IS what some nutters are claiming while Moffat's own insistence he hasn't even started on the season finale are more plausible.

Well, unless this is some kind of clue that I'm actually a brain in a jar somewhere, what follows could be the only acknowledgement the thing exists on the internet bar its page of origin. And even the DWADs manage a better ratio than that.

Apparently, in this nebulous period of "I'm not actually the Doctor anymore but until you see me regenerate I'll hang around Britain attempting total media saturation" of David Tennant's career, he has found temporary work as a DJ - which he's managed once or twice before, with the assistance of Kylie Minogue (assistance as in "No, THAT button"). But the odious Christian O'Connell, a Richard Glover type parasite, has dragged DT into performing a rather incoherent radio play.

Recorded in the lobby.

On David Tennant's own, personal, wrought-iron bed stolen from his house.

Yes, this is major league insanity and to transcribe in detail the play would sound like I was simply posting one of my spoof scripts - except the jokes aren't funny and David Tennant visibly goes through "Ah, bit of a laugh" to "Actually, this isn't that good" to "Dear god, make it stop". He breaks down and apologizes for his presence half-way through. He out loud pleads for it to end. Even before he's started he refuses to use the Doctor's accent so determined is he for it not to be in ANY way "official".

"Call it what you will," he mutters miserably at one point. "It's a career-ender."

Perhaps the lack of media attention is DT pulling some strings for a media blackout?

Onto the, as yet, unjustified blog title. You know how there are times we are forced to wonder if the production team have put in a little gag about Sparacus? Like the 'laughing at archaeologists' gag? "Anyway, moving on?" Well, this is one of those times and, like Adam Rickitt's exile from Corrination Street and subsequent kleptomania, you do start to think that Big Powerful Forces pay attention to Spara's rants. And want him to suffer.

One of Spara's latest ideas (not THE latest, which is the Doctor having an animatronic talking cat because a robot dog like K9 was lacking in gritty gravitas) is that the Jedward Twins appear in Doctor Who. These twins (John and Edward) are jailbait blond young men with smoothe chests and musical abilities that make Rickitt himself look like Paul Kelly. In a naked blaze of hormones, Spara demanded the twins become part of Doctor Who on the grounds they might be able to act (even though not even Spara can find evidence of this - the twins have no stated desire to evolve beyond their cabaret routine).

The topic, as Spara topics do, quickly shot off on a tangent for the simple reason that Spara had let loose with his desire to get the twins to have FULL FRONTAL GAY SEX with EACH OTHER as part of their Doctor Who appearance (putting it next to that DVD extra of the Master and the Doctor, presumably). Worse, the story this would feature within would be a sequel to The Twin Dilemma! Yes, Spara couldn't come up with a new idea and wants the X-rated adventures of Romulus and Remus before Adric (Adam Rickitt, presumably) turns up for a threesome.

You couldn't make it up!

So imagine my surprise when the very next output of Doctor Who features Jedward. And reveals they are evil. And the Doctor considers them "wierd-haired freaks" who must be destroyed. Considering how OG folk leap onto the faintest Spara ref, the idea the Twittersode could escape such attention baffles me totally.

The... for want of a better word... plot.

The TARDIS arrives in the studios of, a radio station where DJ Christian is being driven to near suicidal melancholy by Jedward's appearances on The X Factor. The Doctor instantly concludes that this is a scheme by the Master (yet another Spara cliche, yes?) and heads off in the TARDIS to confront him, taking with him a flirty security guard called Martin.

Arriving at the Master's HQ, the Master himself (John Simm) admits he's behind it all, having taken a real dislike to Simon Cowell and decided to undermine his empire for a laugh. Which is... you know... understandable. With time running out to restore Christian's lust for life, Martin dropkicks the Master and they return to the studio. The Doctor confirms that The X Factor is safe, but turns down a request to try and give acting lessons to Danny Minogue.

The end.

The script was apparently written on Twitter and was given 140 seconds to record, which is probably while the plot itself goes for four minutes considering David Tennant repeated drops "out of character" (not that he ever deigns to go INTO character in the first place) to complain about the plot, dialogue, the toilet humor, and the fact the show only has ONE sound effect: the wierd TARDIS crash-landing from Time and the Rani. Tennant doesn't recognize the noise and is thoroughly pissed off this "flushing portaloo" is being used in conjunction with his beloved time machine.

But his annoyance is nothing compared to the blatant SHAME he feels about luring poor John Simm into this mess - it transpires they are now good friends in real life and, although Simm's in the theatre at this point (in a token gesture, this is mentioned repeatedly and the audience told to book now and see him on stage), he agreed to ring up as a favor. Alas, instead of a nice radio interview both were bushwacked into performing this script and, considering the Master gets only two lines of dialogue, it was hardly good use of Simm's talent. DT spews forth heartfelt apologies and never before has he said "I'm so sorry" with such genuine pain.

Nevertheless, the Time Lords get a reasonable amount of respect compared to Martin the security guard, who is roped in seemingly so they can humiliate him on air. This lovely Jamaican bloke is not exactly a brilliant actor, nor is he given a particularly good role, but DT visibly (video podcast) prefers his company to the DJ he's sharing the bed with.


Now, this isn't REALLY that bad. It's certainly not as offensive as some Nev Fountain material, but a lot of the humor comes from that osmotic way of watching people laugh and finding yourself laugh as well. The best humor, though, is from the Time Lords abandoning the script yet seemingly staying in character. "You told me you were a DJ," the Master hisses menacingly while the Doctor gabbles, "You told me you were in Speaking in Tongues at the Duke of York Theatre until the 12th of December!" while the whole phone argument brings back good memories of The Sounds of Drums.

I'd probably rate this far higher if not for dark hints that DT's lack of enjoyment was entirely genuine and he hated the whole thing. The prologue as everyone gets ready to record and Christian unexpected starts demanding to know who David's had sex with on the bed is something our Scott lad was not prepared for and definitely not comfortable with. You get the impression the DJ only asked cause the camera was running and he wanted to embarrass a major celebrity. But maybe I'm reading the signs wrong? All I know for sure is the "Sorry, John" being chanted behind the end credits is an odd way of expressing your enjoyment of something...


Next Time: "You die on Mars. You die... today."
The Doctor discovers life on Mars and that it's not just Pyramids, Ice Warriors, Quatermass Grasshoppers and Giant Sphinxes on the red planet and faces murder most soggy. But this time, he doesn't have Donna Noble - or indeed, anyone - to keep him on the straight and narrow. And there's only one thing to say to that...

1 comment:

The Family Slitheen said...

I think when dear old Spara was born, somehow the Doctors threw out the baby and kept the afterbirth.

Seriously though, the man has a skin thicker than a whale. No matter what we throw at him, he comes back with even more quite pointless ideas.