I considered many a topic for this post. The demise of the
MX, the deaths of Christopher Lee and Ron Moody and James Last, the heartbreak of
Journey's End (seriously, you'd never find Moffat do something that epic - he had to invent three brand new characters for
Day of the Doctor because he didn't have anyone to bring back...) or even the fact I've finished novelizing two, count them two, PMG audios. Maybe even the mysterious Mardi Knopfler who's linking me up to anti-NuWho facebook groups as some kind of pagan sacrifice to the great god Kyron.
But no, what I feel needs to be posted is the following image from a comic book which shows how insular and skeptical society has become since the 1960s when everyone was open-minded enough for this panel to comprise serious science fiction.
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| . . . OF COURSE!! |
And people today bitch about moon-eggs and magical forests...
8 comments:
They mean to win Wimbledon!
All Sensorites look the same!
That Doctor Who robot looks nothing like Doctor Who... what, no-one else is mentioning it? It must be a trick, I'll pretend I don't notice the obvious difference as well.
He's got a fucking zipper in his forehead, Sarge! Why do I have to go on the beat with him after the last twelve of his partners were found missing their internal and external organs?
Oh yeah, letting Jimmy Saville off with a caution. Fair enough Sarge.
Yeah. I mean, I've had a soft spot for Harris - different times/social standards/just slightly under age and let's face it he's not Jimmy "Jack the Ripper Had Nothing On Me" Saville - but now he's writing these bitchy songs.
Even his worst detractors never said he was this much of a fuckwit.
Innocence died, man! 500 years after the Magna Carta!
ROBIN HOOD DIED FOR YOU BASTARDS!
Maybe he's just implementing a scorched-Earth policy.
I guess he doesn't expect to survive another five years in jail.
Well, not without his wobble-board.
He's hoping the Rolfaroo will bust him out, but it stopped returning his calls and is now hiding out with Skippy.
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