And another thing…

WHEN you’re a football fan, nobody thinks it’s at all immature or weird to want to meet one of your footballing heroes. I mean, you should have seen the number of grown men queuing up to have their photos taken with Kenny Dalglish a few weeks ago in the Sports and Social.

But if kickerball isn’t your bag, if your cultural and recreational tastes lie in an altogether different direction – say, Doctor Who, for example – then you’re just a geek, aren’t you?

Well, I’m a geek.

The whole of my life I’ve been a Who fan (or “Whovian” for those of the anorak-appreciating tribe). And for much of that time, I’ve been keen to meet an actor who has played the lead role of everyone’s favourite Time Lord. The first chance I got was in 1979, when Tom Baker was scheduled to appear in John Menzies in Buchanan Street, Glasgow, to sign copies of the new Doctor Who paperback, The Horror of Fang Rock. And I was so desperate to go. Only problem was, I had made one of my rare trips to Glasgow just a week earlier and spent all my spare cash on Trigan Empire books and what-have-you. My mum point blank refused to bail me out and I could tell that no tantrum, however impressive, was going to change her mind (interesting point: in his Desert Island Discs appearance over Christmas, David Tennant revealed that he had, in fact attended that very signing).

The next opportunity to meet a Doctor didn’t arise until many, many years later – 2007, in fact, when I attended the press preview of the Christmas special, Voyage of the Damned, at the London Science Museum. I met many other Who actors – John Sim, Elisabeth Sladen, Tony Head, Russell Tovey and Russell “the T” Davies himself – but despite having been tipped off by Steven Moffat that Peter Davison was due to make an appearance, he didn’t show. And David Tennant left pretty shortly after the Q&A which followed the screening, so two of them escaped in the same evening.

A few short months later, I was hosting a table at a Labour Party gala fundraiser dinner, when who should appear on stage to introduce the Prime Minister but the tenth Doctor himself, another son of the manse. After his speech, I decided I would wait until the unseemly gaggle of women fans (honestly! Have they no pride?) around his table  dispersed before casually sauntering over and introducing myself. And then, just as I was about to make my move, he was led from the room and disappeared to his waiting car. Damn. It.

The next near miss was the very worst, most galling of all. In April or May 2008 I was texted by Steven Moffat, who had just been announced as Russell T. Davies’s replacement as showrunner of Doctor Who. Would Carolyn and I like to join him and his friends at his house to watch the broadcast of Silence in the Library, his latest writing contribution to the series? Well, of course we would! Unfortunately, Carolyn and I were in Glasgow and not, as Steven had assumed, in London, so we had to turn down the invitation. A few weeks later Steven told me it was a pity we couldn’t make it because “you would have enjoyed meeting David and Georgia.” That would be David Tennant and Georgia Moffatt, who played the eponymous role in the season four episode, The Doctor’s Daughter, and also happens to be Peter Davison’s real-life daughter. I could have barfed!

And then, last autumn, Steven and his wife, Sue, came for dinner at the Commons. “We’ve just left Matt,” said Steven in passing, “Matt” being Matt Smith, who will play the 11th Doctor. “Would he want to join us for dinner, do you think?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could manage. “I’ll ask him,” said Steven, and I did not object to his using his mobile phone in the Strangers’ restaurant, even though it’s strictly against the rules. “He would have liked to but he’s on his way home now,” said Steven with a shrug. Hmm.

And then last week, finally, at long bloody last, this happened:

He was part of a lobby of parliament by members of the Performers’ Alliance, and of course I took my chance.

Inevitably, he was lovely – very approachable and patient, though I’m sure slightly baffled that so many MPs (note: not just me!) were behaving like fanboys.

It’s taken more than 30 years, but at least that’s another thing crossed off of my “bucket list”.

"And that's one I took of you emptying your bins outside your house..."

THOSE helpful people at SFX magazine have provided a sneak preview into the new Doctor Who logo, to be launched, I presume, at the start of Matt Smith’s tenure next year.

I was never all that enthusiastic about the current “cat’s eye” design:

And from next year, we have this, which is excellent…

It reminds me of the classic Doctor Who title sequences of the ’70s, and perhaps that’s a clue as to the direction the new showrunner, Steven Moffat, wants to take the show.

Time will tell.

I HAVE just had a rather extraordinary evening, the details of which I will spare you but the generality of which I shall share.

I was joined for dinner at the Commons by Steven Moffat and his wife Sue. Steven, you will remember, is Russell T. Davies’s replacement as executive producer of Doctor Who. Sue is a successful producer in her own right and is working on a couple of projects far too interesting and intriguing to reveal here. I’ll simply say that a visit to the government whips’ office and a chat there with the pairing whip, Tony Cunningham, provided some valuable colour for her latest project. Nuff said.

After dinner, Steve kindly agreed to be interviewed by me for my latest podcast, which I shall post here later on Wednesday. This was the first interview he’s done as executive producer on Doctor Who for many months, and I’m very grateful he agreed to do it.

Afterwards, while enjoying a relaxing glass of wine on the Terrace, we were joined by a galaxy of stars who ha been to a Number 10 reception. They included the legendary songwriter Mike Batt (he of Wombles and Bright Eyes fame, among many, many others), James Bond music composer David Arnold, and Fergal Sharkey out of The Undertones.

It turns out Steven and Sue are friendly with David Arnold because he’s written the music for Sue’s latest venture, Sherlock (an episode of which Steven has penned). It was after midnight by the time I had completed my impromptu and not very official tour of the palace for the benefit of my celeb guests. We hailed carriages outside the gates of the Commons.

Steven is one of my oldest friends; given the demands on his time, I was delighted he made time to come over to the Palace for dinner. He is one of the funniest and cleverest people I know. But as a Bond fan, it was an added privilege to spend some time with David Arnold, who is a lovely, very approachable and friendly bloke. And it was great to meet Mike Batt, even though, according to one of my guests, he’s a Tory. But it doesn’t make him a bad person.

I don’t want to give the impression that MPs mix with celebs all the time; I certainly don’t. But it was reassuring and humbling to realise that talented and successful individuals still consider it a privilege to spend time in the Mother of Parliaments, even when her reputation is as low as it has ever been.

SO, THE eleventh Doctor will be played by Matt Smith.

Good choice, I think. Bit young, maybe? But there’s something old about him too. Weird enough to impress.

So, I can relax now. Well done, Grand Moff.

DAVID Tennant is quoted in today’s Herald as suggesting that Billie Piper could be cast as the next Doctor.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

The Doctor is a bloke. You wouldn’t cast a woman as James Bond, would you?

And what worries me is not Tennant’s comments as such, but the fact that in the episode “The Doctor’s Daughter” from the last season, the eponymous heroine, played by Georgia Moffett, was “resurrected” at the suggestion of one Steven Moffatt, who will be taking over as executive producer on the show at exactly the same time as the 11th Doctor is introduced.

I fear a conspiracy.

Speculation about a female Doctor always emerges when the incumbent announces his departure. The first time I was aware of such theories was in 1974 when Jon Pertwee left the role. I remember, in a state of high dudgeon, saying to a friend: “They can’t have a woman – they’d have to rename it Nurse Who!”

I do hope Harriet doesn’t read this blog.

I RECENTLY came across this video on an old computer and it brought back a very embarrassing memory. So I did what anyone else would do: I posted it on YouTube.

You might recognise the woman: her name is Sarah Alexander, and she’s an actress (do I have to say “actor” these days?) who appeared in, among many other things, Coupling, written by Steven Moffat, an old friend of mine. Shortly after I was elected to parliament, Steven invited Carolyn and me to his 40th birthday party at a club in Soho. On arriving we couldn’t help but notice the presence of a number of thesps, including Sarah and her on-screen boyfriend, Jack Davenport.

I admit to having “a thing” for Sarah Alexander; not in a Norman Bates “if I can’t have her then no-one will” sort of way, or anything. And although she’s not as beautiful as Carolyn, she is nevertheless very attractive. And a few glasses of champagne into the evening, Steven hadn’t yet introduced me to her (even though he had introduced Carolyn to Jack Davenport, at her request…). Eventually (and at last) he took the hint and called Sarah over.

Steven: “Sarah, can I introduce you to a friend of mine.”

Sarah: “Hi. And how do you know Steven?”

Me: “…”

(Embarrassing pause)

Sarah: “Do you-”

Me (just a bit too loud): “I’m an MP!”

(Second embarrassing pause)

Sarah (nervously walking away): “Okay…”

Next morning, I was woken by the shuddering of our bed. Carolyn’s very first conscious thought when she woke up was of my finest moment. She instantly dissolved into a fit of giggles which came and went over a period of… oh, about six years.

Appropriately enough, at my own 40th birthday party in 2004, Steven arrived and proudly showed me this video which he’d recorded on his phone earlier that week:

I’M ALREADY interrupting my self-imposed break from blogging, because I’ve been nominated by Iain Dale to reveal my memories of five major events as part of his “blog meme” exercise. Quite an intriguing idea, so, for what it’s worth…

Princess Diana’s death, 31 August 1997
I wasn’t even aware this had happened until fairly late the next morning. On the Saturday, Carolyn and I had a friend, Steven Moffat (now of Doctor Who fame, but not at the time) round for dinner. I had gone to bed somewhat the worse for wear and was woken by a phone call from my friend, Craig Tulloch, who broke the news. We could hardly believe it. We immediately switched on the TV and sat in front of it, bewildered, for the rest of the day.

Margaret Thatcher’s resignation, 22 November 1990

The person who broke this particular piece of good news to me was the then shadow trade and industry secretary, Gordon Brown. I had only recently been appointed as press officer to the Labour Party in Scotland and had almost immediately decamped to Paisley where we were fighting twin by-elections in Paisley North and South, with polling day on 29 November. The whole campaign had been overshadowed by Heseltine’s challenge for the leadership, and the number of national journalists present in Paisley had been steadily reducing as their news desks had recalled them to London, where the big story was. On the morning of Thursday 22 November, the daily press conference with our two candidates had gone ahead as usual, with not much interest from a distinctly antsy press pack. Gordon had been our guest speaker at the news conference and had gone into a private meeting straight afterwards in the room that accommodated the campaign HQ’s only TV. He emerged after ten minutes and made his way to the exit. Then, almost absent mindedly, he paused, turned round, looked down the corridor at me and another party staffer, and said: “Oh, and Thatcher’s resigned.” Then he departed, leaving us stunned. I immediately organised a photocall with our candidates, Irene Adams and Gordon McMaster, celebrating her departure by opening a bottle of very fizzy Champagne. Someone found a tape of Hall & Oates’ “She’s Gone” and shoved it in the tape deck of one of our loudhailer cars, and the campaign poster on the roof of our HQ was quickly changed to the same words. It was all very surreal. She had been the only prime minister I had known in my adult life and for a long time I could hardly believe she was really gone. Anyhoo, we won both the by-elections.

Attack on the twin towers, Tuesday 11 September 2001

I had bought Carolyn a few days at Stobo Castle hotel and spa as a Christmas present the previous year and what with general election campaigns and such, she had only got round to going now. I was working from home in Glasgow; my researcher Donald Campbell was with me and we were discussing local constituents’ cases when the phone rang. It was Carolyn and she said, rather cryptically, to put the TV on. I could tell something big had happened and I must confess, my initial, totally illogical, fear was that the prime minister had been assassinated! Donald and I stood, gobsmacked, watching the drama unfold. When we heard about the attack on the Pentagon, I told Donald I feared that more – and worse – was to come. By the evening, I couldn’t bring myself to watch any more, so with Carolyn still away, Donald and I watched “Hannibal” – the kind of movie Carolyn refuses to watch.

England’s World Cup Semi Final v Germany, 4 July 1990

I’m sure I watched this, because it was the first World Cup where I had finally beaten my Scottish programming and was actively supporting England (at least, after Scotland got put out). But football really isn’t my bag, and I probably got bored half way through and started channel hopping or something (wouldn’t it have been West Germany anyway, given that reunification didn’t happen for another three months?).

President Kennedy’s Assassination, 22 November 1963

Six months after my conception, I was drinking up them tasty amniotic fluids. Hmm-hmm – taste like chicken…

Apparently, I have to name five others to go through this exercise (isn’t the blogging world quaint?). So I’ve tagged:

Tom Watson
Kerry McCarthy
Kezia Dugdale
Scottish Tory Boy
Harry Barnes

So that’s that – back to my sojourn. Speak to you in a few days.

On the basis of tonight’s episode, the future of the series is in very safe hands. The conclusion to Steven Moffat’s two-parter was a corker: scary and sad in equal measures, with more than a few echoes of his two-parter from season one. If Steven can keep up this standard of intelligent, funny and disturbing storytelling, we’re in for a treat.

Steven Moffat, who will soon replace Russell T. Davies as executive producer and chief writer on Doctor Who

One of the busiest days I’ve ever had, so haven’t had time to post. And the Commons is like a morgue today because everyone is working in Crewe (or are at home watching telly having told their whips that they’re in Crewe).

The most exciting news today is that Russell T. Davies is leaving his post as executive producer of Doctor Who. The good news is he’s being replaced by my old drinking buddy Steven Moffat. I first met Steven in 1989 when, as a reporter on the Paisley Daily Expres I was sent to interview him (he’s originally from Paisley) because he was the writer of an award-winning children’s TV series, Press Gang. He then went on to write a sitcom based on the break-up of his own marriage, and a few years later, when my own first marriage ended, we started getting very drunk together. He was always, like me, a big Doctor Who fan. He’s also one of the funniest people I’ve ever met.

And if you’ve ever watched the new “rebooted” Dr Who series, you may remember the one with the scary wee boy wearing a gas mask during the blitz, and the one with the really scary angel statues. Those were Steven’s stories. And now he’s the big boss. Huzzah!