As we all know, Saturday was the most important day in human history.
It was the 50th anniversary of the first ever broadcast of the first ever episode of Dr Who.
To celebrate, the BBC flung everything but the kitchen sink at us, creating the impression that it was impossible to switch on the TV without being confronted by a show about the Gallifreyan gallivanter.
Even their rivals Channel 5 got in on the act by showing the second of Peter Cushing's 1960s Dr Who movies.
For a Doctor Who fan, it felt like Christmas always felt when you were a kid.
As for the various shows, I generally enjoyed the 50th anniversary episode. Multiple Doctor stories are always going to suffer from the fact that no story really needs more than one infallible hero in it, meaning the need to give each of them things to do, and say, forces the inclusion of dialogue and actions that are fun but not vital to drive the story forward, causing a certain saggage in the pacing.
But it had the return of the Zygons, the return of Totters Lane, the return of the old opening titles and Susan's old school.
And what sort of madman wouldn't be excited by the sight of all incarnations of the Doctor turning up to save Gallifrey - especially when we get a cameo from Peter Capaldi's rather terrifying eyeballs?
And then, of course, there was the return of Tom Baker; as barking mad as ever.
I also enjoyed Adventures in Space and Time, the drama about the show's creation; and also The Five-ish Doctors, Peter Davison and Georgia Moffett's side project about Davison, McCoy and Colin Baker desperately trying to force their way into the 50th anniversary episode in defiance of all opposition. It managed to be funny, touching and oddly sweet at the same time, with all concerned coming out of it well, with their willingness to send themselves up. I especially enjoyed John Barrowman's horrific secret and Ian McKellen's Sylvester-McCoyless scene with Peter Jackson.
"This is all very well and good," I hear you cry. "But what does this all have to do with comics?"
Well, you cry right because this is what it has to do with comics. As well as once owning a copy of TV Action in which Jon Pertwee decided to teach a six-legged camel a lesson by head-butting its feet, I once also had a copy of the 1978 Dr Who annual.
I'd love to regale you with tales of its magical contents...
...but I can't remember any of them.
I know it, "starred," Tom Baker because it says so on the cover above. I have a feeling it also co-starred Leela, the most well-spoken woman ever to have been raised in a jungle. I suspect it may have included crossword puzzles and the odd Ludo style board game because such books always did. It possibly had some educational content about space travel and science. Who can know?
Were the daleks in it?
I fear not - or I should surely have remembered.
Strangely enough, despite my childhood love for the show - and my still burning ambition to be a Sea-Devil when I grow up - I never owned another Dr Who annual. I suspect that I feared such books might not live up to the knuckle-chewing drama of the TV show and therefore stayed away from them.
Still, I like to feel that, in purchasing it, I made my contribution to the Dr Who industry that has made the show financially viable enough to last for as long as it has.
According to one of those online, "Work out how long you're going to live," things, I'm expected to die at the ripe old age of 92. But those people are fools! There's no way I shall ever allow myself to die before the 100th anniversary episode. Even if I have to turn myself into a Brain of Morbius type monstrosity to do it, I shall be there to see it.
To be honest, I'm counting down the days already.
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