DW 2011 - I Honestly Can't Be Arsed

Sorry. But, my enthusiasm has been drummed out of me - at least to the point of reviewing the damn things. Doctor Who has become something worth seeing when you get the box set and can watch the whole bleeding thing in one disgusting indulgent splurge, like Farscape. Or Black Books. It is no longer something that is satisfactory one week at a time, with the production team basically telling us to go mate with our own persons if we aren't prepared to stick through a story arc that, guess what, isn't going to actually be resolved. Coupled by killing off the main character in such a way that if he's a) dead, there's no point still watching and b) he isn't dead, it's a copout and there's no further point watching. I stopped caring who River Song is long ago, and the Silent don't even have a cool name like the Divergents. The Lodger's TARDIS? Like it can be HALF as interesting as the original idea of Meglos' bachelor pad. Hormonal and psychologically-unbalanced Amy barely holds my attention, and the only interesting thing Rory can do now is dump the bitch. Matt Smith's Doctor is awesome, yes, but do we get to see any of his cool adventures? No, who wants to see him escape from Colditz when we can see him... drinking coca cola in a diner. Or arsing about with a space helmet. Who cares, I want to know, because it sure isn't me any more.

After destroying the entire universe and killing the entire cast, it's advisable to do something a bit different, really. Not ANOTHER ontological paradox (the last story without one was Amy's Choice - just think about that for a while), another sub-Weeping Angel monster (as Mad Larry pointed out, a monster no one can remember is just asking to have the piss taken out of it), and on top of that the show is scheduled at the worst possible time, and seemingly too complicated for 80% of the media, who can't even grasp the concept of "part one". The Daily Star moron wondering why the Eleventh Doctor 200 years younger doesn't look like William Hartnell in particular shows a true warning about why first cousins shouldn't breed.

Oh, and it's going to only have four stories before a cliffhanger ending. Oh let joy be unconfined. I didn't even make it through the first episode before this ennui crashed over me. After five minutes of some Janet Street Porter look alike mocking Star Trek before random alien-what-looks-like-an-Ood-and-a-Cyberman-got-a-bit-too-frisky-one-night zapped her for no reason, I gave up. Oh, and Amy now believes that, in a crisis situation the best thing to do is announce, apropos of nothing, she's expecting and then put a bullet through a little girl. She's getting as anti-paternal as Rob Shearman nowadays, isn't she? OK, maybe she was cunningly fighting off Silence influence (who wanted her to spill the spoiler beans) by telling him entirely the wrong dark secret but... no, sorry, I don't care. You did this Moffat! I name you, forever, THE UNLEASHER OF APATHY!!!!

2010 Who was "new" and this "the same old shit only with poorer lighting".

So, I'm not going to review them.