This is a very exciting Christmas episode for me this year as it is my first Christmas since I became officially canon. My debut into the Whoniverse was in my beloved Doctor, Peter Capaldi’s first comic in Doctor Who Magazine. Thanks to pencil artist Martin Geraghty, in issue 479 I appear all superheroed up with a swish utility belt and my ubiquitous iPad in part three of The Eye of Torment. In Part four it may seem like I’ve become an alien but really I did a very clever thing with my well hidden Vortex Manipulator and deftly escaped to continue my exciting adventures as Madame H.

I shall be slightly off screen on Christmas Day but if you look very carefully in the corner of the TV you might just spot me eating a tangerine or two. I have rewatched all of the Christmas specials so I can write this article, I am able to be strong for Rose this time and not blub all over the place and I’m a lot more accepting of Donna but I did love the Doctor remembering Rose at the party.

*Twiddles with my Vortex Manipulator* Let’s take a trip together back through the vortex to the Christmas Invasion and my excitedness for A Song For Ten which is barn storming!!

To be totally honest I have post MOOC brain so my essay writing capabilities have gone on holiday as I used them all on my literature course.

(From this point on read my words as fast as you can for the full effect of a Tiggery me) So I am flying by the seat of my Christmas pants and jumping into Jackie Tyler’s front room with my love for David Tennant’s brilliant entrance and his beautiful sexy wink to darling Rose. Then I am jumping onto the roof of the taxi containing a runaway bride and hitching a lift on a spare Segway into an adventure with the very hissy spider lady with an extremely cool live action costume. Ooooh floating about in midair being half a spider.

Whoo it’s snowing and look it’s a woven and inflatable TARDIS, I saw how the basket part was made on How It’s Made, a very stylish programme. Having a Frozen sing song with the two Doctors, weellll one Doctor and someone who thinks he’s a Doctor. Well hello there hoody Master, I love your hoody and red dog collar combo and all these clone Masters in everybody else’s clothes. Nice bit of flirting between the Master and the Doctor and Wilf is way cool. But oh no here come the tears, awwww I don’t want you to go either Mr Tennant.

It’s Matt Smithmas!! Time for Carolly warollies and naughty and nice Amy and Rory having fun with their costumes and a Star Wars/Trekky typical scifi spaceship. AAAAwwwwweeesooommme Shark!! A fabulously acted performance of young Kazran and an unusual story of locking up a woman and only letting her out for you to play with but it’s twisted into some sort of romantic fairytale.

Where’s Aslan? Oh Aslan’s not in this one and the wardrobe’s a TARDIS and there is a cute little boy with adorable bottle top glasses and his pretty sister and a wonderful enchanted bedroom with the most best toys. A floating parcel in the snow looks so magical and it’s all enchanted and fairytale but then it’s a bit Stiltony with all the mum saves the day but squee it’s Xander as the Dad.

Ooooh now it’s Jenna and Victorian Clara who I wish we could have had more of. I love her most as the barmaid with her beautiful red outfit and she cheered up the Doctor. Heelarious Strax is Heelarious with the memory worm encounter and Punch snogged the Doctor. I adore Jenny and all the Paternoster Gang.

Now it’s time to say goodbye to Matt Smith as the Doctor but not before he gets a few more hundred years in with plenty of room for extra stories hiding in books and fanfics. Tasha Lem a very stylish lady with cool eye makeup and lovely sparkly purplyness and oh what a woman our beloved Clara is, persuading the Time Lords to continue the legend therefore enabling us to unwrap a brand new Doctor in the fantastic form of Peter Capaldi.

(Aaaaannnd breath!) When you have certain monsters in your head it can be hard to keep the door shut on the cynical creeptures but I am trying my very best to let my inner child escape and bounce round the house and flap my hands and enjoy the search for the best brand of mince pies. Since we got the Christmas Doctor Who tradition it makes Christmas extra special and I’m very exciting to see wonderful Mr Capaldi in his most sexy hoody and I adore dreams and anything about the psychology of dreams and Santa’s here and slimey wimey monster creatures. Exciting!!

Thank You Santas Davies and Moffat for bringing us a marvellous present to enjoy each year. Merry Christmas Everyone and Lots of Love and Sparkles for a truly fantabulous 2015.

Written by Helen Beeston

A kaleidoscope of emotions unravelling from a tight knit ball of suppression.

Incomprehensible was this peculiar mixture of response and reaction.

No explanation for each escaping tear drop as they all rained down and I just had to let them.

This roar of feelings of dragonite passion.

The strength of a hero grown to a child.

Witnessing the tears of a cast out.

A connection of hearts through the fictional wilds.

Relating to the secretive sobs as loudly as a terrific shout.

My torch-bearer, a light on my world.

My explanation go-between.

The aliens in the room, to others always absurd.

Whatever our expressions we know what we mean.

Frustrating translations so we talk with ourselves.

The world mis-knows so we focus inwards.

The invisible that understands us, in and around us dwells.

When other in physicality is not there we project our thoughts outwards.

Their response requires no babelfish they know just what we say.

‘We’re the echoes that surround you, the friends you’ll always have’.

Of our abstractions there is recognition without delay.

‘When you can’t decipher humans, their motivations good or bad’.

Our stars they burst with energy and twinkle in our toes.

Our constellations mingle for us and no one else.

Our soulmade kindred charms for each other we bestow.

Our bond affirmed within all the vagaries we have felt.

Some thoughts expressed in outbursts whimsical or wounded.

The bubbles of ideas pop and fizz and coalesce.

The muddied water filters make us incoherently lucid.

So we cling to the ones who try to understand us best.

The words of our chosen few are a mountain of equivocation.

Affirmations give our doubts a yearned for reprieve.

We loosen our hold with conflicting resignation.

Their desire to leave us we insecurely preconceive.

We’re soldiers on our battlefield concrete against the world.

Guarding our own boundaries from mental devastation.

The things we’re too afraid to say all remain unpurged.

Our own officers of calm must be the source of our placation.

I have in you, Doctor, unfailing love and loyalty however blindly naive.

We’re compatriots together no matter false or true.

I’m your faithful companion, in you I believe.

I want to shield you from the anger of Danny Pink or Journey Blue.

I know there’s more complexity in interpreting your character.

Easy answers are unachievable in continual debate.

A torrent of opinions smashing black and white parameters.

The tension in my body comes from misperceiving hate.

In the darkness we share nightmares.

A fear of the unknown.

In my dreams I find you traversing my mind’s spiral stairs.

I fly and float into your arms and feel so immediately at home.

Maybe it’s a part of the fantasy to say I never would disown you.

I’m not fully making steps in your companion’s shoes.

My ardency tilts my thinking askew.

To accept all the dark sides my idealism becomes bruised.

But we share a curiosity, a just have to know.

To search out all the answers and discover the truths.

A marvelling wonderment we want to never outgrow.

Our homes often welcoming regiments of books.

Embodying our excitements with delighted bounding.

With joyful frenzy we put to flight our smiles.

Animatedly scattering what we find astounding.

Unreservedly proffering fascinating finds.

But in the quiet and the dark when no one understands you.

When your sadness pours out under protective cover.

When ignorance and loneliness is all you seem to accrue.

I promise you I’ll be your warm summer.

A tearful extravagance for the clasp that closed the chain.

A 50 year completion of words from past said now.

A profusion of tales of happiness and pain.

Every star in that galaxy should proudly take a bow.

We have a new beginning, doors to open and explore.

A never ending story of which I’ll always be a fan.

A love for the Doctor inhabits my core.

Peter Capaldi, you wonderful man.

For this month’s editorial I have chosen to make a picture exploring the differences between the two companions who helped make Doctor Who a success at a pivotal point in it’s history. Susan, who was there at the very beginning in 1963, and Rose, who attracted a new generation of Who fans at the relaunch of the show in 2005.

(Click image to enlarge)

Hopped up on sugar and achieving zero gravity without the help of a trampoline was how I ushered in a new era of Doctor Who. I’d read about Matt Smith’s love of Mini Eggs so whilst the Eleventh Doctor was sampling the dubious delights of yoghurt, bacon and bad bad beans, I was stuffing myself with chocolate. The evidence of my indulgence is available to watch on my Whoventures YouTube channel.

The decision to create my Doctor Who themed videos was spurred on by a need to say a fond farewell to David Tennant’s Doctor and offer a big warm welcome to Matt. A Quality Street assortment of cosplay, singing, impressions and Tiggery reviews is how I celebrated the wonders of the Eleventh Doctor’s adventures.

For this mega exciting new era of the show my adoration for our wonderful new Doctor, Peter Capaldi, will be pasted all over my art blog autisticinnerspace.wordpress.com. I shall use this essay to officially cut the ribbon and welcome Who fans one and all to my series 8 extravaganza of art. Like Abed in his Dreamatorium, creating my pictures gives my cartoon self the amazing opportunity to dive right into the middle of the action with Clara and the Doctor.

Speaking of dreams, regeneration is a significant event in my sleepy time imaginings too. It all started with a flirty David Tennant strutting about my brain and seducing me into many romantic escapades. When the Tenth Doctor regenerated into Eleven, Matt adjusted his dickie bow and, to the dismay of a disgruntled David, stepped into my dreamworld. Quite a bit of kissing and lots of adventures later, Peter Capaldi has made his dreamworld debut but there’s none of that flirting (well, maybe a tiny bit). We are more like cultural companions enjoying art classes, browsing the art gallery and exploring museums. He is my best friend.

Seeing all the teaser trailers and the awesome full length trailer it seems that we are transitioning from a Doctor Tigger to a Doctor Piglet. Peter’s interpretation seems more meditative and thoughtful and a tad insecure, with his spaghetti twisting hand gestures when he is asking for reassurance from Clara. I love that part of the Doctor’s library has migrated to the console room, I can totally relate to trying to fit my huge book collection into every nook and cranny I can find. My instinct to climb on things is encouraged by the new Doctor’s permission that we can climb on top of the TARDIS and enjoy the view from space. I love that his costume isn’t quite a costume anymore and that he is rifling through his wardrobe for new outfits of the day.

I’ve loved meeting every Doctor since I jumped into the show with Christopher Eccleston. Chris, David, Matt and John have been amazing to watch but this time with Peter it feels different. He is the biggest Doctor Who fan of all and knowing he loves inspecting the action figures in Forbidden Planet, humming the theme tune in the street and making fan art makes me feel so happy that it’s not just admiring an actor on the screen, he’s part of our fandom family. It’s easy to imagine playing swapsies with our sticker books and getting all our action figures into madcap mashups. It’s not just being in the audience watching the charming head boy rock the school play, it’s running around outside pretending to fight the aliens and monsters with your best mate, someone who’ll invite you into his adventures and occasionally, politely but firmly admonish you if you play it wrong.

So I’ll just pop home to grab some tin foil, a plunger and an egg whisk and meet you all back at the playground.

Van Gogh first found me when I was in love,

completely and utterly like love-birds and doves.

Sparked by a hand print into wet plaster,

a compliment drifted by my ear and made my heart beat faster.

I guess it was like Ghost without all the pottery,

he clasped my hand and I won the lottery.

My potential new teacher of all things artistic,

the Oxytocin shot through me going ballistic.

I was impulsive and just didn’t care,

my Sixth Form was chosen that second right there.

I went home from that taster day feeling lighter than air,

remembering his eyes and long swishing hair.

Soon September came and I needed my courage,

to go for my goals like Daniel Sturridge.

My school bag packed I boarded the bus,

and hid my face from the public to avoid any fuss.

The scenery whizzed past and I started to frown,

as I lost all recognition of my hometown.

Then with a grind and a clunk the bus came to a stop,

it just gave up chugging and we all had to hop off.

To the driver I enquired where is my college,

of wherever I was I had no knowledge.

It turns out we’d sped past it when I wasn’t looking,

the nerves and the panic in my tummy were cooking.

I was stuck there stranded on the wrong side of town,

a bus going the right way nowhere to be found.

So I used the road signs to plan my navigation,

to hopefully get me back to the bus station.

I was doing okay until I took a wrong turn,

complex directions I found quite hard to learn.

Luckily I stumbled upon a welcome sight,

a handy phone box that could end my plight.

I fumbled for coins and rang my mum,

she whizzed out of work to rescue my bum.

We got to my college and explained at reception,

classmates were in form but I was the exception.

I nervously crept towards the art room,

butterflies in my stomach and my heart going boom.

When I walked through the door there was one empty seat,

my art teacher’s face was wonderful to greet.

I sat next to him and though my pride was dented,

being so close to his body my adoration cemented.

In a future art lesson he complimented my dress,

of all the things that made college he was the best.

He had a wonderful way of sneaking up like a cat,

a tingle on my neck and a ‘I really like that’.

For one of our briefs I painted a selfie

in a seductive pose I thought he might find sexy.

One day with my fashion I risked ridicule,

‘I wear bunny ears now, bunny ears are cool’.

During my distracted artistic experimentation,

we had to choose an artist to get our dedication.

Vincent Van Gogh was the artist I chose,

I studied his blue, orange, yellow and rose.

I painted a copy of Wheatfield With Crows and was naively proud,

when I chose deep reds and purples instead of black for the avian crowd.

My art teacher stood behind me admiring,

his praise always left me lovelorn and sighing.

That art a.s. level year was a romantic fairytale,

then one fateful day the sunshine turned to hail.

For he didn’t return to us after the summer,

no explanation given life was suddenly glummer.

He’d disappeared and ended my teen romance story,

he’d left the building and I’d lost my Rory.

My new art teacher only berated,

every effort I made she always hated.

So very soon I’d dropped out of art,

with confidence lost and a broken heart.

For many years I’ve thought my art’s not good enough,

I’d tear up my pictures and storm off in a huff.

It took me a long time to learn that my unique vision,

should play a major part in my artistic decisions.

What links up my story with Vincent and the Doctor is that I can’t find the words,

to sum up all the beauty just with letters is absurd.

At college we had to write an essay about Vincent,

but I just could not think of anything descriptive and convincing.

Writer’s block prompts my very grumpy rants,

I’m much better at pictures and interpretive dance.

But I love my WhovianNet challenge and want to review,

my favourite episode of Doctor Who.

Vincent’s art just came alive with the set design,

and all of his emotions translated into mine.

I loved it when the Doctor walked right into the painting,

of Vincent’s bedroom when the Krafayis was awaiting.

Amy looked so beautiful amongst all of the sunflowers,

and I related to the distress of Vincent’s despairing glowers.

The scene of Starry Night brought on floods of tears,

of seeing things so differently to me that is so real.

Vincent being overwhelmed by Bill Nighy’s ardent praise,

who then received the thank you from those far off yesterdays.

The good bits and the bad bits to Amy reassured,

a signature to show how much she was adored.

I’d like to give the cast and crew my enormous admiration,

and lots of love to Tony Curran for his exquisite characterization.

Van Gogh has been there to witness my heightened emotions,

my paintings and passions and unbridled devotions.

Thank you Vincent for your beautiful soul,

and for having the fire to be so bright and so bold.

Editorial written by Helen Beeston

I get extremely passionate about fictional characters and boy do I get passionate about defending my first Doctor Who companion, Rose Tyler. All the petty criticisms I see about her makes me want to clutch her to my bosom and roar at her decriers like a Daenerys dragon, hence my new motto, Keep Calm and Watch Cupcake Wars. It’s the accusations of selfishness and immaturity that make me want to shout ,HELLO, SHE’S HUMAN!! All humans are sometimes selfish and immature and say hurtful things in the heat of the moment, because, in the words of Moriarty,  ‘THAT’S WHAT PEOPLE DO!’

I don’t understand this view that she’s anti feminist at all, her concern and care does not discriminate and we see her pride when she discovers Harriet Jones is Prime Minister. She tells Donna ‘You’re the most important woman in the whole of creation.’ (Turn Left 4.11 2008) and you could say, builds a new loving relationship with half of Donna in the soul of the clone Doctor (Journey’s End 4.13 2008)

Or the criticism of the emotional connections to the men in her life (which all the companions have). She seems to have had an insecure attachment to men growing up, with her father not being there and her mother Jackie, seemingly having had a few casual flings but no new long term partner, which is why we do see insecurity and feelings of Jealousy from Rose when the Doctor seems to be growing close to other potential companions. But these moments of insecurity are seen in the Doctor too, the little looks when Rose goes off with Mickey (Boom Town 1.11 2005) and the dance off with Captain Jack (The Doctor Dances 1.10 2005). It is a beautiful portrayal by Billie, Chris and David, of a growing romantic relationship with all it’s complicated twists and turns.

She never stops caring about Mickey. She does show remorse for her impulsiveness on running away with the Doctor and leaving Mickey behind. But through the Doctor landing in their lives, Mickey and Rose discover their true potential and though he doesn’t turn out to be Rose’s soul mate, Mickey becomes confident and brave enough to forge a new life of freedom fighting with his wife, Martha Jones.

Mickey: ‘We’ve had a laugh though, haven’t we? Seen it all, been there and back. Who would have thought, me and you off the old estate, flying through the stars.’

Rose: ‘All those years, just sitting there, imagining what we’d do one day. We never saw this, did we?’ (The Age of Steel 2.6 2006)

Mickey: ‘There’s nothing wrong with a van. I once saved the universe with a big yellow truck’ (Age of Steel 2.6 2006)

She is what the Doctor needs most,  when he is drowning in the darkness of being on his own and full of self hatred, she offers the only thing that matters in all the universe

The Doctor: ‘There’s a lot of things you need, to get across this universe. Warp Drive, Wormhole Refractors. You know the thing you need most of all? You need a hand to hold.’ (Fear Her 2.11 2006)

We now know that Rose and the Doctor were destined to be together from the Moment they met but it was the original Rose, the girl from the council estate with her mundane 9-5 life of chips and folding t-shirts, that had the courage and empathy to be a hero and create her own destiny.

In Rose (1.1 2005) when mannequin Mickey goes on a restaurant rampage she doesn’t just save herself she tries to get all the diners and staff to safety too. Her childhood achievement of a bronze medal in the gymnastics gets the Doctor out of a tight spot and stops the world succumbing to dummy destruction.

Even though Cassandra had nearly killed everyone (The End of the World 1.2 2005) Rose still asked the Doctor to save the life of the rapidly dehydrating villain.

The welfare of Gwyneth is argued for by a caring Rose and she doesn’t show any blame towards the Doctor when him and Rose are in the sights of the lurching Gelth, trespassing in their mortal hosts. Rose stands firm beside the Doctor and holds his hand. (The Unquiet Dead 1.3 2005)

Rose is willing to sacrifice her life for the lives of everyone else on Earth and uses her knowledge of earthquakes to find the safest place to protect herself, the Doctor and Harriet Jones. (World War Three 1.5 2005)

Rose shows empathy for the unlike when she meets a Dalek for the first time (Dalek 1.6 2005). Viewers know the danger of the situation but she just sees a creature in pain and suffering and wants to comfort it.

When Adam goes along for a ride in the TARDIS she makes sure he calls his parents to let them know he’s ok and gives him the TARDIS key because she understands how overwhelming your first destination in time and space can be. (The Long Game 1.7 2005)

She climbs up to a rooftop to rescue a child (The Empty Child 1.9 2005)

She reaches her dazzling potential and sparks her destiny with the Doctor when she becomes Bad Wolf to defeat the Daleks, save the Doctor and the future of Earth. (The Parting of the Ways 1.13 2005)

Her bravery and courage saves the world and her strength and support saves the Doctor.

I adore a romance with a fantastical twist and I thoroughly enjoyed the story of Rose Tyler and her soul mate from the stars.

Editorial written by Helen Beeston

When I was growing up in the 80s and 90s I was different. Different to the other kids and this seemed to be a bad thing. I was bullied a lot and instead of wanting to learn about my interests and hear my opinions, the people around me poked fun at me and invited the whole class except me to their birthday parties until they were forced to include me by their prodding parents. Instead of just listening to me, teachers just wanted me to shout and make more noise even while telling my classmates to be quiet.

I made my own world in my head and escaped to within my mind as much as I could until I was dragged back into reality. I loved travelling into the worlds of fiction because no one could reach me, though I did sometimes get confused about what was real or just pretend (The X-Files made me afraid to sleep during alien abduction hours).

After a relatively unhappy trudge through school and sixth form and a few false starts at nearly every college in my town I was free from the tyranny of formal education but by then I was in my twenties and in the start of nearly a decade long, roller-coaster relationship with my first boyfriend. On top of the confusion of being bombarded by glossy women’s magazines telling me how to handle my man, metaphorically and literally, I had unknowingly been enduring an early menopause. I was mentally unwell a lot in my twenties and I retreated to the comfort of my cosy shell, with its many padlocked door and ocean of a moat.

But then there came a knight. A knight in a blue wooden box. I’d known a little about his world because I’m British and I love a little shop, and many of them had those brightly coloured boxes of Doctor Who delights, but they didn’t quite pull me into the Whoniverse back then. This time, in 2005, it was different. Once Christopher Eccleston had finally managed to lure me out from behind the sofa and I grabbed onto the Doctor and Rose’s hands, I discovered a new world.

I wasn’t new to the concept of fandom, I had been a Buffy fan, but that had only led to isolation in a house full of merchandise and a bank account drier than the Sahara. Doctor Who was stirring up a longing for more than just collecting, there was a temptation to connect with other fans. So, I found a forum about it and I slipped through the front door and settled in the corner listening to all the rampant debates until I found a way I could help. My way in was to amateurishly but determinedly transcribe the Doctor Who proms, interval monologue by Justina Robson. People were happy with my contribution which made me happy. Then there came a new beginning for all of us as we moved house to Gallifrey Base and I decided to try my best to contribute more to forum life.

As well as finding my voice on the forum I had unlocked some of the padlocks and shrunk the moat and stepped out of my shell into an enthusiastic YouTube career, first with my anything goes channel, CuriosityRocks, and then, to welcome Matt Smith, my Doctor Who themed channel, Whoventures. I had found the courage to let people see my inner world.

It was the Doctor, I think, who gave me the realisation that I maybe I could loosen the cork on my bottled up personality. Here was a celebrated and loved hero who I could see myself reflected in, from the little quirks to how it feels inside my head.

The importance of food’s texture…

‘Did you ever have one of those little cakes with the crunchy ball bearings on top?’

‘Do you know those things? Nobody else in this entire galaxy’s ever even bothered to make edible ball bearings. Genius’ (Fear Her)

‘I hate yoghurt. It’s just stuff with bits in.’ (The Eleventh Hour)

Disregarding fashion trends and preferring individuality…

Rose: ‘Aren’t you gonna change?’

Doctor: ‘I’ve changed my jumper!’ (The Unquiet Dead)

‘Yeah it’s cool. Bow ties are cool.’ (The Eleventh Hour)

‘It’s a Fez. I wear a Fez now. Fezzes are cool.’ (The Big Bang)

‘Glasses are cool’ (The Girl Who Waited)

A little kid in a grown up’s body…

‘The Muppet Movie. Love that film.’ (Tooth and Claw)

‘Dear me. I’d better get going. Things to do, worlds to save, swings to swing on.’ (The Power of Three)

‘I want to go to the pub right now. Are there video games there? I love video games.’ (The Angels Take Manhattan)

Loving shops…

‘No shop. I like the little shop.’

‘Nice place. No shop, downstairs. I’d have a shop. Not a big one. Just a shop, so people can shop.’ (New Earth)

My steering has never really been switched on…

‘Early days. Steering’s a bit off.’ (The Eleventh Hour)

I can’t resist the little fiddly things…

‘Nice action on the toggle switches. You know, I do love a toggle switch’ (Hide)

A bit of a hugglemonster…

‘Just stand there, because I’m going to hug you. Is that all right?’ (The Impossible Planet)

How words bounce around inside my skull and jump off my tongue like popping candy…

‘So, Physics. Physics, eh? Physics, Physics, Physics, Physics..’ (School Reunion)

‘I like that. Allons-y. I should say Allons-y more often. Allons-y. Watchout, Rose Tyler. Allons-y. And then, it would be really brilliant if I met someone called Alonzo, because then I could say Allons-y Alonso, every time. You’re staring at me.’

‘I like the word, toggle. Nice noun, excellent verb’ (Hide)

When I get so excited that the words all spill out at a mile a minute and attack people’s ears with a multiple thought pile up…

When the Doctor hitched a lift in Charles Dickens’s coach (The Unquiet Dead)

‘I’m riffing. People usually stop me when I’m riffing or carry on without me.’ (Dinosaurs on a Spaceship)

The excitement travels through my arms…

War Doctor: ‘Are you capable of speaking without flapping your hands about?’

Eleventh Doctor: ‘Yes…No’

The frustration of being talked to when I’m trying to concentrate or calm down..

‘Stop talking. Brain thinking. Hush.’ (The Vampires of Venice)

‘Stop talking to me when I’m cross’ (Amy’s Choice)

What people have always thought about me…

Craig: ‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit weird?’

The Doctor: ‘They never really stop.’ (The Lodger)

What means the world to me is that the way the show can express what my mind can be like if you could climb inside it and experience the world through my eyes.

DoctorDonna: ‘Brilliant! Fantastic! Molto bene! Great big universe, packed into my brain. D’you know, you could fix that chameleon circuit if you just tried hotbinding the fragment-links and superseding the binary, binary, binary, binary, binary, binary, binary, binary, binary, binary, binary, binary, binary, binary (gasp) I’m fine. Naaah, never mind Felspoon, d’you know who I’d like to meet? Charlie Chaplin!  I bet he’s great, Charlie Chaplin, shall we do that? Go and see Charlie Chaplin? Shall we? Charlie Chaplin? Charlie Chester?  Charlie Brown, no, he’s not real, he’s fiction, friction, fixing, mixing, Rickston, Brixton’ (Journey’s End)

‘Not easy is it, being clever. You look at the world and you connect things, random things, and think, why can’t anyone else see it? The rest of the world is so slow.

‘Me, I make these connections.’ (The Sontaran Stratagem)

Though I’m not as brave as the Doctor or quite the genius he is, and I don’t think any one person should be a role model, he has taught me to value what makes me different and to find the confidence to share my passions and creativity with the world. So I’d just like to say…

Doctor, you’re fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. And do you know what? So am I.

Editorial written by Helen Beeston

9th January 2011 was an auspicious day in the Whoist religion, it was the birth of a new sect founded on the discovery, by a new generation, of a curious and mystical book which featured the endorsement of Whoist god, the 3rd Doctor, portrayed in the parables by Holy Priest Jon Pertwee. It was a recipe book and it was teaching the value of making sure to have a full stomach before engaging in strenuous activity. Around this book gathered a small group of intrepid disciples determined to uncover the secrets served up within and gain enlightenment. I am one of those first disciples and we soon formed our mantra with inspiration from an intriguing pictorial scripture, ‘One must fail to understand before one begins to see, that is what it means to be human’. In this present day we continue to preach our beliefs and attract new followers who are christened as Recipe ****ers. As a devoted Recipe ****er and Whoist I would like to welcome you and explain the facets of the religion known as Whoism (in some circles it is alternatively known as Whovianism).

Whoism was founded in the year 1963 by Holy leaders Verity Lambert and Waris Hussein. It is a polytheistic religion of one soul manifesting in many gods. That soul, called the Doctor, lives a karmic life and its actions in previous incarnations have consequences for its future incarnations. As Whoists we are companions of that soul, we learn all that is right and wrong together with each god the soul inhabits. This offers comfort and the knowledge that we are all as important as every other being in the universe. The Doctor is not pure or perfect but experiences the same difficulty and happiness of life as us and is always working hard to make good decisions.

Each of us has our own story of our personal journey into Whoism. Some have discovered a broadcast of one of the gods’ parables and become entranced, many are born into the religion and are instructed in the ways of the Doctor by their family elders.

For a number of weeks every year, the church leaders bring us new parables from the Doctor’s journey. Families gather together on Saturday evenings to enjoy these new stories which prompt immense discussion of the meanings and messages in the continuing narrative. As well as the opportunities technology gives us to converse with other Whoists, there are many small church groups that regularly meet to discuss and debate their theories. Many Whoists also make the pilgrimage to annual festivals, known as conventions, where they can celebrate in their hundreds. Whoism is most often practiced individually within the home.

To express our belonging to Whoism we often wear clothes adorned with the images of the Doctors incarnations and the friends and foes that challenge the Doctor. Some of us like to reflect our love for our favourite incarnations by wearing the same styles of clothing and an overly long scarf is a very popular adornment. This clothing enables us to signify our faith and identify other Whoists whom we are yet to know.

We are encouraged to decorate our homes with Whoist iconography which takes the form of images and ornate model representations of the gods and other characters from the parables. Many designate a whole room as a shrine to Whoism, a place to meditate and reflect on the teachings of the Doctor.

There is much discussion of the Whoist doctrine which teaches us many things. It is a task given to all Whoists to choose the most poignant of these for the creed of a Whoist life.

I would like to offer a warm welcome to our religion, Whoism. Now you must spread the word.

Allons-y.

Editorial written by Helen Beeston