An exciting adventure in space and time: in which Paul Hayes recreates, in detailed and sometimes micro-detailed detail, the conception and realisation of the long-running sci-fi series Doctor Who.
This is one for the anoraks, both of the Sisterhood of Karn variety, and more generally of TV, its production technicalities, politics and constraints, so it suits me down to the ground. It does also tell a good tale of internecine rivalries, turf wars and penny-pinching at the BBC of the time, a very peculiar institution mixing creative piss and vinegar with bureaucratic fussiness and procrastination. (And it hadn’t changed much when I worked there 25 years later.) That the outsiders - Sydney Newman, Canadian and Jewish, who first conceived of the show, Verity Lambert, Jewish, young AND a woman, the first to occupy a producer role on a regular basis at the Beeb, and Waris Hussein - foreign and gay! - should have made it, and made a success of it, was somewhat against odds to put it mildly.
And here we are - a show the establishment didn’t really want, and has treated over the years like an on-off boyfriend (casual disdain, break ups followed by ghosting, then professions of desperate, undying devotion) - which somehow wormed its way into the nation’s affections and has, in that hoary old phrase, “become part of our way of life.” Even those who’ve never seen an episode, are too young to know what a police box actually was, and don’t know how many people have played the Doctor in total (just ask that of any group of Whovians if you like provoking mindless violence and shouting), recognise the TARDIS and what it represents, the Daleks and that theme tune. Quite an achievement over 61 years for what started as a silly little kids’ show to fill the gap on Saturday teatime between the sport and Juke Box Jury.