Doctor, Doctor, give me the news, I’ve got a bad case…

From a tiny snippet PVR'd at the start of last week's Newswipe, I take it the BBC have started airing the trailer for next season's Doctor Who. There's a fair bit of stuff I'm missing during the month I'm swanning round the Pacific and I honestly couldn't think of anything I regretted – until I twigged I'm probably going to miss the start of the new Doctor. To give you an idea of just how empty my life is*, this realisation caused me a proper pang of anguish. I'm now desperately hoping the BBC shows the first episode on or before 20th March, because if I have to watch you all talk about it on Twitter from a hotel room in Kyoto I will go quietly insane.

I know some people have doubts about Matt Smith, but I don't. Firstly, Liz saw him in Party Animals and thinks he's great, and I put all my faith in her evaluation of TV drama. (The woman knows The West Wing inside out, how can you possibly doubt her judgement?) Secondly, think back to David Tennant's initial, precious, end-of-series-post-regeneration moments. If you hadn't watched Blackpool or Casanova and didn't know he was a marvellous actor, he came across as thoroughly punchable. New teeth? That shit-eating grin and Barcelona? Get me Christopher Eccleston back on set, stat!

But thirdly, crucially: go watch that series preview again. Go on. Only this time, pay special attention to the very final scene. The "trust me, I'm the Doctor scene". Yes, the line may be cheesy, but look at him. If Tennant was playing that line, he'd be staring very fixedly into that lady's eyes and being a bit scary. But Matt Smith? Searching. Enquiring. Gentle. Tender, even. Gosh, I've gone rather wibbly.

* This is probably the wrong thing to type on Valentine's Day, even as a joke. My life is fine, everything is fine, there's nothing to see here. Which, if you're a regular reader, you probably already know.

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