A mish-mash

Lots of bits. I’m writing and procrastinating about writing by writing something else. This.

I held off saying anything about the Las Vegas shooting until there was some clarity on what happened. There still isn’t any, if anything, it’s got worse.

The shooter was a white man, a Democrat, a Muslim, a lone wolf, part of a terror organisation nobody can identify, a rich man with a girlfriend and everything to live for and no previous indication of any trouble at all, and he shot himself. After he shot around 600 people with an (already illegal in the USA or so I’m told) automatic weapon.

There are reports that there were other guns firing from other hotels. Claims that he didn’t act alone. Claims that someone on the ground was shooting too. Claims that someone set off firecrackers to distract people from the sound of gunshots. I have no idea what to believe now.

Yeah. Pick the truth out of that lot. It’s a mess.

This is, once again, being used as an excuse to take all the guns away from Americans. Well, they took our UK guns away a long time ago and the result? Criminals wave illegal firearms around because they know for sure we law abiding people don’t have any. Their guns were unlicensed and illegal before the ban. It made no difference to them.

I’ve never owned a live round gun. Never wanted one so you could argue the ban made no difference to me. It did though. You see, if a burglar broke into my house before the ban he could not know if I was armed or not. Now he knows I’m not. That makes a big difference. I can’t bluff if the burglar knows for sure I don’t have a gun.

In Scotland you now have to have a licence for an airgun. Sold mine before it happened because it was clearly coming. We had to hand in my son’s BB guns from when he was a child – they fired plastic pellets that could dent paper at 10 yards but they counted as airguns under the new law. So, in Scotland, you can’t even have a BB gun without a licence now.

What I can’t understand is that it is Democrats calling for gun control. So… only the government will have guns, not the people. The Republican government, the one they despise and accuse of corruption, Nazism and white supremacy every minute of every day, will have all the guns. They won’t be allowed to have any, only the Trump government will be armed. Why do they think that’s a good idea?

Well, these are the same people who accuse the police of being racist murderers while insisting only the police should have guns. You can’t expect sense from minds that warped.

It’s also interesting to note than many of the big names claiming that nobody needs a gun for protection are always surrounded by armed security. ‘Hypocrite’ is far too small a word.

And another thing. I doubt that Las Vegas shooter hit with every round. If he hit 600 people from the 35th floor of a hotel then, even giving him a generous 50% hit rate, he must have fired at least 1200 rounds. Surely, someone buying that many rounds – especially for a weapon that the public aren’t allowed to own – would have raised a red flag somewhere? How did he do that?

Anyway, on to cheerier things. The anthology is still on target and after that I have a book by Dirk Vleugels translated from Dutch to French, a resizing of the ‘Han Snel ‘ book (apparently people think it should be bigger), an  abridged version of Hugo Stone’s ‘Cultish’ – all of which should be quick to publish – then I have a novel by Lee Bidgood (who is also in the new anthology) and two of my own, ‘Jessica’s Trap’ and ‘Samuel’s Girl’ which are out of contract with the original publisher and just need new covers and a quick revamp.

Then the Christmas anthology. Busy busy busy.

I’m also back into making little models. I’m thinking of making the van that came with Sparkle Truck  into ‘White Supremacy Van Man’. That should raise a few hackles.

I discovered ‘Metal Earth’ stainless steel kits and have made a few. They’re quick but they take a long time. Even with a magnifier and a good light, they are tiny and shiny and are held together with extremely tiny tags. So I need to stop before it gets to hammer time, and go back to it when the destructive urge has subsided. Total work time is only a few hours but some of them take days to finish.  I’ve made a few, there will be pictures. Also advice if you fancy having a go.

The train obsession has resurfaced. I sold off most of the N gauge stuff when I was broke and have been slowly accumulating OO gauge since. All second hand of course – the older models are basically a motor and contact from the track. Very simple devices. Unless the motor is burned out, a non-runner is either over-oiled or has dirty wheels. Easily fixed, as are missing buffers and couplings. I pick up the non runners on eBay and will sell a few as working engines to make the hobby self funding. Wagons, all I need is the frame and wheels and I can make the rest.

I recently bought two brand new sets. Both have a GWR 0-4-0 tank engine, a few wagons, a basic track oval and a mains-powered controller. One was £60 in Asda, the other was £48 in Toys R Us (half price). The Toys R Us one has repainted the engine blue and given it a probably mythical company name. That’s okay, I can fix that. Excess controllers are easy to sell too.

Modern engines cost a lot more because they have, or can be fitted with, DCC (direct cab control) which means you can run two trains on the same track and control them independently. I don’t want that. It’s great for clubs where you can have people running their own trains and someone in charge of signals so they don’t run a train into the back of another one, but for solo use it’s more concentration than I want to apply. It’s supposed to be a relaxing hobby.

It does mean that the old stuff is on sale cheap. That suits me fine. I recently saw a brand new Class 08 in OO gauge (you might have seen them at mainline stations, the square blue shunting engine) on sale for nearly £200! I bought a Class 58 (a BIG freight diesel) for £25 on eBay. In perfect condition but can’t do the DCC thing. Fine with me, I prefer the old stuff.

Another eBay win was the Lima station with signal. I think I paid about £5 for it. The station is continental and the platforms are too low and too far from the train. I’ve already taken the building off the base and fixed the broken signal. I’ll rebuild platforms over it. The building will make a good house somewhere.

The big thing with this bit of kit is that it has an isolating track. When the signal is red, the train is on dead track. When it’s green, the track is live. It doesn’t use LEDs, it uses a single white racist light and a blanking plate that moves up and down with the switch. I’m fine with that. Filament bulbs are easier to replace anyway.

The bugbear with this one is that the signal light takes power from the track. The higher the power, the brighter the light. This means that to have the light on full brightness the train has to be approaching the station at full speed, hit the dead track section and stop dead with all the passengers creamed into the front end of every coach.

It also means that to have the light green to send the train on its way, the power has to be on full before switching on the track, so the new passengers get creamed into the back of each coach when it takes off like a bullet.

The solution is simple, I just have to rewire so the signal light takes power from a constant source instead of the track. The dead section and light switch will work just the same and the train can come in and leave again at a normal slow speed.

I have to make a portable railway. I have an attic big enough for an impressive O gauge setup but I don’t know how long I’m going to live here. So I need something mobile.

I know, I know, you want to call me a geek and I’m fine with that.

If everyone was into models instead of guns and ideology and hate though, what would the world be like?

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Getting metaphysical

Maybe going as far as paraphysical here. This is not theory, not even hypothesis. It’s just speculation. I know diddly squat about astrophysics, so don’t bamboozle me with your high-faluting equations and stuff like that. Keep it to street level if you want to explain why this is nonsense.

We’ll start with the caveat that it probably is nonsense.

It all began with a (public) Twitter exchange about time.

Which set me thinking in rather more than 140 characters. I did consider calling this post ‘Stop – Twittertime!’ However I need that construction for something else later 😉

Okay. Let’s start from the premise that the universe appeared in the big bang, We can argue about who lit the fuse another time, And yes, the big bang is theory, but that word has a different meaning in science. It means it is not proved but there is evidence to suggest it might be true. I accept that we could be the product of random cosmic forces, I also accept we could be but a spark from one of God’s fireworks. It’s all open to debate. That’s how science works.

This is not about religion vs. science. This is about the nature of time.

Incidentally, if I recall correctly, the Chinese ‘see’ time as coming out of the ground and going up, whereas we in the West ‘see’ it as going forward.

But then time isn’t moving. We are. We move through time so, as I said in that short discussion, what if time is what holds the universe together? What if that is the foundation stone?

Whether Creation or Big Bang, either way, time did not exist before the start because time is an integral part of the universe. We see three dimensions of space and we ‘see’ (rather, we experience) one of time. There could well be more dimensions, hiding all that ‘dark matter’ we know is out there.

If any God exists then he/she/it (obviously not human) must exist in more than our three physical dimensions. That would allow God to be everywhere, or at least see everything, at once. A four dimensional being would look at our three dimensional world in the same way we look at a two dimensional drawing. Five dimensions and our universe is a dot. A microfiche.

I believe science currently allows eleven physical dimensions. We barely exist at all at the top of that scenario. ‘Made from dust’ could well be a literal interpretation in that case.

But I digress. As usual.

If the universe uses time as its foundation then time travel is impossible. The universe is on the skin of a balloon expanding from its point of origin. There’s nothing outside and nothing left behind. It’s easier to picture if you think in four dimensions – we’re on the three dimensional skin of a four dimensional balloon. We don’t see inside or outside the balloon, we only see along the skin. Light seems to go in a straight line in our world but look at it in four dimensions and it’s zooming around through the skin of the balloon.

A balloon inflated by time.

Time is the dimension we cannot see. We can move in the three dimensions we are confined to but we cannot move in time, we are carried along by it. We experience it but cannot see it and cannot change direction.

There is no ‘past’ because the skin of the balloon has left that behind as it inflates. There is no fixed future because the skin of the balloon has not reached that point yet. Time recognises only ‘now’. Every point in time exists only now.

Sure, you can find relics of the past embedded in, and carried along with, the passage of time through space but you can’t go back there. It’s not there any more. Similarly, you cannot visit the future because it hasn’t happened yet.

You can still make a time machine of sorts. It can put you in stasis so you wake up in the future but going back to change the past? Forget it. The past is the void inside the balloon. If you go into the future and don’t like it, tough. There’s no way back.

I mean come on. If you had the chance, wouldn’t you want to go back and kill Hitler when he was still just a crappy painter? Or wipe out the Marquis de Sade or Torquemada or Stalin or Pol Pot any other mass murdering bastards of history? It’s never happened has it? They are all still there in history. Nothing gets fixed because nothing can be fixed. Once you’ve done it, it’s done.

As for the future, my own experience suggests that some people make accurate predictions but never very far ahead (one human lifetime is not even a tick of the clock at this scale of things) but that suggests no more than a tiny bit of variation in the process of time. Barely, probably not even, detectable on a cosmic scale. A minimal hysteresis in the mechanism that any engineer would be delighted to achieve.

Nostradamus? I read his ‘predictions’ So vague they could be interpreted any old way and even he has been ignored now.

There is nothing to suggest anyone from the future has visited the past and nothing to suggest the future can be predicted more than a trivial amount ahead. Travel in time is not possible for us.

However, a creature outside the limitations of our three physical dimensions might not be so constrained.

Maybe, this Halloween, we’ll meet one.

 

 

Constructions

I’m back to making little models. This has been an intermittent hobby recently but I have discovered inexpensive and difficult tiny metal models so I’m re-honing my skills on those. I have, to compensate for my ageing eyes, relented and ordered one of these. I can’t focus as close up as I used to, in fact when working with tiny things I have a very narrow focal range now.

With the Borg eyes I’ll be able to get back to that tiny submarine too. That’s taken an appalling amount of time to do!

More on the new models in a later post. I am currently engaged in constructing the Halloween anthology which already has seven stories, one of them based on trains. It’s a definite go, once again, and will be the third Underdog Anthology.

Today I received something I didn’t make although I played a part in its construction. I was tasked with the important job of ensuring there was no trace of whisky left in the bottle. I can assure you my diligence in this matter was absolute.

This lamp was constructed by JP’s Workshop and I am most impressed. Out here, where the power can go off with no warning, battery powered lamps and torches are a must. As are candles. Lots of candles. I should stick them in the top of whisky bottles.

The whisky this particular bottle once contained was ‘Old St. Andrew’s’ and I have only ever seen this one in Asda. There seems to be a lot of that about. Glen Garioch is hard to find outside the distillery – fortunately the distillery is local. There is one called Loch Lomond which I have only ever seen in Local Shop. It’s a very good one but it can’t possibly be unique to the tiny shop. They only ever have two or three bottles in stock.

There are those specific to certain retailers, of course. Lidl and Aldi have their own brands and I’d advise staying away from the very cheapest ones unless you need to clean a toilet or strip the varnish off something. Their top of the range ones are so far ahead of the cheapos that a few extra quid is well worth spending. Even the mid range ones are streets ahead of the cheapest.

But I digress. JP has produced a most impressive lamp out of this bottle. This is recycling as it should be done – take something that you’d throw away and make something else with it.

I have some glass-drilling drill bits but have not yet had the nerve to try. JP has the expertise already so it’s probably best I don’t bother for now.

Oh, and I sent JP a selection of bottles, all meticulously and thoroughly cleared of all traces of whisky, so if you fancy a similar lamp you might want to get in touch. His prices are most reasonable, you will find.

If you want an Old St. Andrew’s one like mine, you will need to visit Asda and pick up a bottle because I have the only one so far.

If you need help clearing it of whisky, send it to me first and I’ll pass it on to JP after a thorough cleansing.

No extra charge 😉

 

Well, that was… interesting

Author payments are sent (novel authors I mean, I haven’t started on the short stories yet) except for Margo who elected to get hers as print copies and I should have those tomorrow.

I had to set up a new payment account for one author using online banking. I hate online banking and I hate it more now.

The computer is in the office but my mobile phone doesn’t work in there. It only works in the kitchen, right next to the window, or in certain areas outside. Thick granite walls were designed long before mobile phones.

So, I set up the payment and because it’s the first time, they send an automated phone call to check it’s really me. The house phone number on the account hadn’t been updated (it has now) so it had the old place’s number. No problem, I still have the same mobile number so I clicked that one.

The phone started ringing at once so it was a quick dash to the kitchen. The robot voice said ‘Key in or say the four digit number on your screen.’

Damn. The screen is in the office and the phone won’t work there. Quick run, memorise the number, run back and the phone is nagging me for the number again.

Well in the end it worked and then the phone beeped just as I got back to the office. It was the bank sending a text saying I had set up a new payment.

Then I changed the house phone number and the mobile beeped again. It was the bank telling me I’d changed the house phone number.

I know, in this age of internet fraud the banks have to be really careful and I appreciate that.

I think, really, the problem is granite. A fine and long lasting building material but you don’t need a tinfoil hat if you live in something made of it. Even the mobile phone can’t get through.

Al the same, I like granite. It just feels more solid than brick.

The cull nears…

The meek shall inherit the Earth… simultaneously true and rubbish in equal measure. How can this be?

Well, those who consider themselves ‘the meek’ are in fact the oppressors. They think they will inherit the Earth because they are slapping down their ‘oppressors’, the white people. I’m one. I’ve never oppressed anyone. They hate me anyway.

That hate is water off a duck’s back to me but to many it is biting deep. We now have the white race as the oppressed. You can’t be racist against Honky, you can call us all the names you want. You can wish us all dead. Extinct. Deleted from history. And you are the oppressed?

I’m a straight white guy, I smoke and I drink and I know things. All these are hateful to ‘the oppressed’ and they would delight in watching me swing for any one of them. In the name of spreading the love they would kill us all. What a pity their cause is hampered by them being so weak that they need to be protected from mere words.

Emotional support. For words. Forgive my blasphemy, Stewart, but Jesus Fucking Christ! These people are what we are to be scared of now? You can take them down, turn them into blubbering emotional jellyfish, by disagreeing with them! They are utterly pathetic.

Okay, I admit to putting on the horns and tail and having fun with the antismoker versions in the past, present and future but their willingness to believe anything anyone tells them is not laudable. It’s contemptible. These are the people who ‘deserve’ things, like a house and a car and free money. They deserve utter contempt and mental torment and that is what I have and always will provide for them. I live with a dog and two guinea pigs who are smarter and more deserving than those fuckers. Heck, the spider in the bath (Boris, he keeps coming back because he knows I won’t kill him) is a better companion than these pathetic excuses for humanity.

We have supermarkets bragging that all their meat is Halal. Not the bacon, at least not in Tesco. I asked and they checked and the manager wasn’t sure…  *sigh*

It used to be the preserve of Halal butchers but they are being put out of business by the likes of Tesco. It’s what Tesco do.

Muslims, the strict ones, are not going to be any happier about it than the rest of us. We infidels are not allowed Halal meat under Islamic law and meat not identified as Halal is haram anyway so none of them buy stuff in Tesco  in case it came into contact with the pork they also sell. Tesco and all the other supermarkets are fucking idiots.

They are pandering to a small set of customers while alienating everyone else. Good business? Not my idea of it.

There is a big thing about race now. If you are white you are racist, if you are black and call for the death of all whites you are not racist. Black people call for a new Holocaust of white people and imagine they are not Hitler because they are anti-fascist. Even the sad white people are revelling in guilt they have imagined they need to feel.

Fascists do not bother about genocide. Fascists are about money. Socialists are always the ones about genocide.

So. I am white, male, not a hint of experimentation with other sexualities – not because I oppose them but because they have no interest for me. I smoke and drink, I like those things, I try to do neither to excess but these days a fag and a snifter are far too much. The weak cannot stand it so they must deny it to everyone.

Now, as noted by on Twatter, we have children being dehumanised in schools. They don’t even know about human reproduction  yet and they are already being taught to shag trout and weasels. It’s all good, poke it anywhere warm and wet.

It all looks like bits of nonsense but it’s all the same thing. Race war, religious war, yeah, either will do, both is best. Don’t you know who’s running all this, all you ‘oppressed minorities’ and white useful idiots?

It’s all run by whiteys.

You take your money from the Rockefellers and the Soros to destroy whitey and you don’t look at their faces. Just those dollar bills. Look again and see where this is going.

Did you really imagine that the latest trans-mania was an overnight sensation? That schools implemented it after some research? Don’t give me that #woke shit, nobody #woke has changed a single thought in their head. It was set up ready to go

At the top it is all financed and run by honkies. Yeah, you silly fuckers, we’ve been running the show all along. You sad white trash who want to be extinct will get your wish. Non whites, basically, you’re doomed. You have been set up to be and you love the fake preference you get now.

Keep playing victim. You don’t really know what that means but you will, very soon.

You might even get an idea of how a straight white smoker feels….

 

There is something nasty on the way. It is  going to be big and vicious and even Stalin might go ‘Whoa’ but we white guys will survive it. Our people set it all up.

How can you not know that?

What I did on my holiday

It’s a good idea to only tell the Internet about your holiday when you get back. Not before, and certainly not during. Especially if, like me, you have previously posted pictures of your house online.

It’s not an easy house to find, that’s true, but if the bad guys have seen it and know I’m not in it, it would be an easy target. They’d be disappointed. I own bugger all of value other than my cameras and the car and I’d have those with me anyway. But they might break one of my chilli plants and I only have 16.

This past week I was visited by old friends from Wales. They drove all the way here, stayed for a week and drove all the way back again. We were out every day and since the spare bedroom (downstairs, we don’t go upstairs because those are the junk rooms and the stairs are scary) is also my office, I had no access to this computer. That’s okay, it enforced a week of socialising and I wouldn’t have done that otherwise.

So, they have now seen Haddo House, Fyvie castle, Pitmedden Gardens, Cruden Bay which houses the castle that inspired Bram Stoker to write ‘Dracula’ (the first drafts had Dracula come ashore in Cruden Bay, which later changed to Whitby), and more.

We visited the Glen Garioch distillery – they weren’t whisky drinkers so I didn’t have to drive and also got all the samples – and they generously donated a bottle of that fine malt to my whisky collection. There’s still some left. This one isn’t in supermarkets so I have to be careful with it.

The online search for that distillery culminated in the phrase ‘There it is, on Distillery Road. Who’d have thought?’

The highlight of the week was Friday, when we took a long drive and visited this –

…and rode a Class 108 DMU (diesel multiple unit) from Keith to Dufftown. It’s like the ones we used to have in the Welsh valleys but they were mostly 110’s I think. Anyway, I don;t want to get uber-geeky…

A Class 108 looks like this, which is totally different from all the other variants of DMU that you think look all the same but aren’t.

So now you know. The trainspotting meme is in your head and you are doomed because I know, and you know, you have to look this up 😀

This railway is privately owned, and not connected to the main line. They are hoping to get it to at least have a platform on the main Keith station so that the tourists going to Dufftown can use their trains to get there.

When you hear the name ‘Dufftown’ you’d think there’s not likely to be much there, right? It’s where the first picture in this ramble was taken. The Glenfiddich distillery is also there and the J&B distillery and the Singleton comes from there and Balvenie castle –

Oh wait, that was the site of the original castle. The Scots had sensible priorities. ‘We need that spring water supply for a distillery. Get that feckin’ castle oot a the way.’ So they built another one, which later fell down and nobody cared because it wasn’t a distillery. It now looks like this –

It’s a fixer-upper. Worth it though because it has plenty of storage space and the Glenfiddich distillery is across the road.

On the line between Keith and Dufftown you pass a distillery that has been abandoned since 1931. It’s all still there and it’s the size of a small town. Distilleries need their own spring water supply. Mains water would cost them a fortune because they use so much and mains water is treated to stop microbes growing – including yeasts – so it’s going to seriously limit fermentation. That particular distillery lost the reliability of its spring and gave up. There is considerable investment in structures there, all of which is probably worthless now. It’s the risk capitalists take to make stuff so that socialists can claim they actually matter.

Dufftown is full of distilleries. It reminds me of old South Wales where everyone worked in the coal mines because the mines were the primary employer. Dufftown is also well into North Scotland, the SNP heartlands. Really, the name might not be inspiring, but it’s well worth a visit.

So let’s see. You have a political party where you want to drum up support for your idea of an independent country. What do you do? Oh I know, let’s hammer alcoholic drinks

Half of the people of Scotland work in whisky (or beer) production in some capacity. Making it, transporting it, growing barley for it, bottling it, malting the barley, making barrels or bottles, and of course selling it. The other half (and a good percentage of the first half) are drinking it. So, an anti-booze stance is possibly the worst idea any Scottish party could ever have. And the SNP managed it.

I’m pleased by that.

I’d also like to note that before the Act of Union, whisky wasn’t taxed at all. If the SNP made that point in their declaration of independence they’d win 90/10 at least but they won’t because they are Puritans. If I was going for power, I’d do it.

But I digress.

In Balvenie castle I found something the new camera can do. It sees into the infrared really quite well. The detectors just show infrared as ‘brightness’ but then if it displayed it as infrared I still couldn’t see it. So okay, there’s this cellar place where you can see bugger all with your eyes even in the middle of the day but the camera has a flash on it so you can get this –

Not a particularly inspiring photo. The walls are original but I suspect the concrete floor is unlikely to be. There is a fascinating display of lumps of rock on planks but otherwise it’s a dull photo.

The thing is, the camera saw all that without the flash. In almost total darkness. The camera, without flash, took this –

The heat coming from the stones translates into infrared and digital cameras see it. There is nothing in this photo that wasn’t in the previous one but I bet you see details you hadn’t noticed before. No special filters, no tricks, just trust the camera. Their photo chips see outside your range of vision and they just bring it up as best they can. Usually as white light.

If you have a digital SLR, check the screen, not the viewfinder. The viewfinder sees what you see. The screen sees something else. You might not need that flash.

I’d like to test this over seasons. It should work less well in winter.

Unfortunately all the fun stuff is closed in winter because tourists are feeble and don’t want to come here in darkness and snow.

But that’s when it all gets interesting.

Okay, holiday is over. Back to work.

 

 

Number 14 FFS!

When I was about 14 I took part in an essay competition at school. Not really voluntary, it was assigned to us in English class. Anyway, the subject was ‘women’s liberation’ as it was known in 1974. I won the damn thing with a cobbled-together rant and spent the money on the first three of Kraftwerk’s albums. The ones before they discovered actual music. I still have them.

The teacher handed the essay around. Most of the girls in that class didn’t speak to me for weeks. Some probably won’t speak to me now.

So, with the announcement that Dr. Who has gone all transgender, let’s see if I can repeat my youthful success at offending just about everyone.

Another thing I was good at at school was maths (I know the Americans call it ‘math’ but we have more than just adding and subtracting in the UK so we need to use the plural). A consequence of this is that I was forced to grind my teeth at the announcement that the new Doctoress is number 13.

I have watched this show from its original, monochrome, wooden-acted beginnings. It took me almost 50 years to notice that in the first encounter with the Daleks, there were only about four actual Daleks. The rest were painted on the wall. However, I have noticed each and every Doctor incarnation.

We can ignore Peter Cushing’s Doctor in the films because he wasn’t a Time Lord. He was a human inventor who built a Tardis in his shed. Something we can all aspire to, but he wasn’t an incarnation of the Doctor so doesn’t count here.

One. William Hartnell. A wonderfully grumpy old sod who was clearly, from the outset, a non-human entity. Two, Patrick Troughton, a bit more jolly and then three, Worzel Gummidge – no wait, Jon Pertwee. At that point it all became a bit silly with him driving around in a yellow clown car dressed as Sherlock Holmes. He was stuck on Earth so no expensive special space effects. The biggest special effect was Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart’s moustache.

Number four, possibly still the best of the lot, was Tom Baker. Large, with a grin bordering on the wildly carnivorous, a fondness for jelly babies and the scarf! I have two of those scarves. My mother made one for me when I was at university (paired with an ex-army greatcoat, I won a fancy dress competition wearing my day clothes – but I was very, very drunk). CStM has since made another one. The old one was getting a bit faded.

Tom Baker brought the show back into a little bit serious. Not too far into serious but enough to make the scary bits a little scary again. After he left it went rapidly back to silly.

Five, six and seven – Colin Baker (arrogant clown), Peter Davison (cricket-playing arse) and the one we all wish never happened, Sylveste McCoy. Oh come on. The thin wiggly guy from Vision On is the Doctor? No wonder the show gathered dust for a couple of decades.

When the show was shelved, so was Sylveste. He didn’t regenerate at the end of his run. He seemed destined to be the last Doctor forever. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth and burning of childhood Dalek suits (they were real, I had one and so did my brother – in the 1960s).

The show never had any message. It was just fun. The adventures of a bumbling alien idiot with a time machine, an astronomical IQ and no common sense. Then the BBC brought it back and gradually added an agenda.

Number eight was Paul McGann. Just the one special episode where we could delight in watching Sylveste McCoy gunned down by mistake by a gang. It was set in London about 10 am this morning. He regenerated into Paul McGann, the angst ridden Emo Doctor dressed like Percy Bysshe Shelley without the booze. Again, we didn’t see him regenerate and that’s where the trick was pulled.

The next one we see is not nine, but ten. He’s called nine because we haven’t met nine yet. Bernie – no wait, Christopher Ecclestone, the jolly Northern lad who’s okay with the pansexual antics of Captain Jack ‘if it stays still I’ll bonk it’ Harkness. Not too much message, it was still mostly fun and it had mercifully lost the ridiculous flamboyance of most of the earlier incarnations.

Next up was David Tennant followed by Matt Smith. Both good, both continued the scatterbrained genius approach to the role and both wore (relatively) sensible attire.

They were billed as ten and eleven but they were eleven and twelve. It’s during Matt Smith’s tenure that we meet Doctor Nine – the war doctor, played by John Hurt. Played very well, may I say, but the sneaky insertion of that incarnation between Paul McGann and Christopher Ecclestone cost an incarnation.

Which is evident at the end of Matt Smith’s tenure. Facing down an entire Dalek fleet with only his trusty Cyberman head, Handles, at his side, he is very old now and has no more incarnations left. As he says to the Daleks: ‘You lot have been trying to kill me for thousands of years and here I am, dying of old age. If you want something done, do it yourself’.

But that’s not the end – the Time Lords poke through the rift in spacetime and send him another incarnation. How many does he have now? Even he doesn’t know.

But that was it. Twelve incarnations. Thirteen was a bonus and thirteen was Peter Capaldi.

He started out a bit silly but improved, and then the agenda really kicked in. Lots of in-your-face gayness. Oh it was there before, with the Lizard Lesbian, but it was discreet. No more. Bill, the last assistant, never failed to remind us that she was a rug-muncher first and foremost even though it never had anything at all to do with the Dr. Who storyline.

Sidelines – It was a little endearing to see the last male Doctor fighting the Mondassian cybermen and that they did look rather like the original Mondassian cybermen encountered by the first Doctor. Also a big plot hole. The Master (John Simm, a delightfully psychotic portrayal)  regenerated from Derek Jacobi and was confined to Earth until he died. His next appearance was as ‘Missy’ (Michelle Gomez) and it’s not clear how he got there – but it is clear that as the John Simm incarnation he never left Earth he was cremated there. So how did he end up on the Mondassian ship?

Anyway. Bil is going to be seriously pissed off to find that she spent all that time hanging around with an old dude, only to be turned into a cyberman and then die just before the old dude turned into a hot chick. Oh that is some serious bad luck right there.

But then they had to Kill Bill. She can’t come back now the Doctor is an automobile’s nightmare. She’d try it on with the Doctor like that loose floozy Amy Pond did (and she was engaged to Rory the Dull!).

So the new one is a wench. I wonder if the Tardis wardrobes contain any women’s clothing? I mean, after 13 male doctors, why would it? Unless one or more – or all –  of them was into that sort of thing. Perhaps they used to go off to some remote part of the galaxy and become Doctorina for a few years. Maybe sneak back as their own assistants.

This new one is number 14 though. Why this mad insistence on 13? Is it supposed to be unlucky that this regeneration missed out ‘the package’? The first Doctor had a granddaughter but he hasn’t used it since then anyway. Twelve new knobs and no action. No wonder he’s given up on them.

If it wasn’t for all the PC crap introduced into the show recently I’d have no trepidation about this new Doctor. A Doctor I can drool at rather than have to make do with the assistants would be a nice change. But then, having seen the 13 men she was before that could prove difficult to get past.

Still, I have a feeling it’s going to have a lot more anti-white-straight-male going on. Not 14’s fault, it’ll be in the script.

The agenda just moved on a notch. Those cheering it don’t know where it’s going.

It’s not where they think it’s going.