No 1: Bad Wolf / The Parting of the Ways
Each week, Miles Hamer will be getting shit-faced in the name of Doctor Who. Why not join in his fun?
The task: Watch randomly-chosen adventures from the show's history whilst observing the rules set out below.
Take a gulp when:
The TARDIS lands
Doctor and/or crew's identity queried
Psychic paper used
Sonic Screwdriver used
Historical figure introduced
The Doctor engages in fisticuffs
The Doctor uses a catchphrase (eg. Reverse the polarity, Allons-y)
An enemy uses their catchphrase (eg. Exterminate)
Smooching by regulars
Finish your drink when:
A companion is introduced
A companion leaves/dies
The Doctor regenerates
1. Bad Wolf
05:00 minutes in…
The Doctor's on Big Brother, Rose is on The Weakest Link and Captain Jack Harkness is grinning his pearly-whites at two giant Legobots (or so it seems). Nothing drink-worthy yet though.
Ooh, sonic denial - that's two gulps. Still, this is going to be easy.
Three successive deaths later and I've yet to finish my inaugural beer.
Distracted by my use of the word "inaugural" instead of the simple, "first." Who do I think I am – Pip & Jane Baker?
The sonic's out again, blasting stuff. Hmm, inaugural – sorry, first - beer is now finished.
Captain Jack's pants are down, and so is my second beer. Is Barrowman's arse in the rules?
No. Perhaps it should be.
No, it definitely shouldn't.
The Doctor is sonic zapping so much I'm chugging back mouthfuls of fizzy lager like some kind of dimwit on a BBC3 documentary about Mediterranean nightlife.
Rose's "death". I know it shouldn't count, but I'm finding this beer strangely moreish.
Blimey, Eccles is getting handy with his fists. Hmm, fighting suddenly seems like a great idea. Fancy a fight? I'll fight you I will.
Actually, I've got a bit of a bad leg, forget the fight.
Oh my god. I've never realised, until now, that it was the Controller who brought the TARDIS trio aboard. I think beer has provided the clarity of intellectual insight that plain old boring sober just can't do.
Satellite 5 looks like a big bendy space cock.
Death by Dalek ray. Let's chug this mother back.
First use of "Exterminate!" I neck a mouthful. They probably won't say that much, yeah?
A thousand Daleks bellow the infamous battle cry. I don't know about the Doctor's chances but my liver is going to be screwed thanks to these metal wankers.
Episode 1 over and I'm giddy with emotion and beer. Mostly beer.
2. The Parting of the Ways
Shit, am I supposed to be doing the recap stuff too? Oh god, I'm spilling it down my front now.
Yeah, the main theme! Love this shit. Hmm, dancing suddenly seems like a great idea. Fancy a dance? I'll dance with you I will.
Actually, that bad leg I mentioned earlier…
"Exterminate!" Christ's sake, give it a rest guys, I'm getting whammed here.
TARDIS lands. "Exterminate!" Gunfire. Dalek Death. That's half a beer in thirty seconds. This is such a shit idea.
A circle of Daleks fire white hot streams of laser at a defenceless Doctor: it's like a poorly-judged Skarosian bukkake.
Please, Daleks - stop saying "exterminate". It's bloody killing me. Get a new word.
Jack locks lips with Rose and then the Doctor. I'll drink to that. Well, I've got to.
Hmm, kissing suddenly seems like a great idea. Fancy a kiss? I'll kiss you, I will.
Actually…er, that leg injury – it prevents intimacy, somehow.
The Doctor hologram. "Have a fantastic life". Oh bums, I'm in bits. My wife joins me. I stare dead ahead so she avoids my gaze, and breath.
Another notch on the "Exterminate!" bedpost. NB: That's a reference to the show – I haven't just killed and shagged my wife. Don't be confused.
Rose, Mickey and Jackie yum down chips. Hmm, pizza suddenly seems like a great idea. Fancy a pizza? I'll phone for one, I will.
Bollocks, I've got no money in. I daresay it's for the best - last time I ordered I gave the name "Mavic Chen" and they hung up on me. I'm not sure why - Mavic Chen could easily be a real name. Conclusion? My local pizza emporium is racist. Well, that or they heard me giggling.
Billie's punctuating every sentence with a bash of the table; I remember the making of The Shining where Kubrick admonished Nicholson for doing much the same. Perhaps we should lock Rose in a freezer?
Zap. Scream. Skeleton. Death. Drink. Drunk.
Johnson off've Peep Show is slaughtered along with many other people. This means only one thing - Massacre of the Kidneys.
29:30: Oh come on, I'm not drinking to line drawings of countries being wibbled out of existence.
"My vision is impaired!" You're not the only one, the room's frigging spinning here mate.
Jack's death. I want to cheat, but a death's a death. That's my fifth.
TARDIS lands. Rose has gone all Ready Brek. Stuff is happening, but not sure what.
40:30: More snogging. I'm a mess of spit, tears and lager (oddly enough, that was also the title of Eccleston's first project after this, I expect).
"You were fantastic". Hell yeah! I'll drink to that. Don't know if it's in the rules, but hey man, fuck the rules.
"So was I." Double yeah! Oh don't go, Eccleston, I love you. You're proper brilliant, you are. I won't let you go, we're going to be together forever and...oh, he's gone.
Tenant's arrived and I down my final beer to celebrate/commiserate and neck a further two double whiskeys to see me through and, my God, I'm drunk and where's the remote and yes love, I probably will need to clear up that piss…
U.N.I.Ts consumed: 14.8
Starting with a season finale probably wasn't the gentlest introduction to this booze-soaked lark. Russell T's mighty epic of a closer sought to satisfy former budgetary impossibilities by walloping the viewer with set pieces galore straight from fandom's wildest dreams. As such, it's a rule box-ticker and a real liver-kicker; whilst the alcohol intake itself isn't Herculean, the speed with which it was consumed certainly is. The heightened emotional impact of the climax didn't help either – all that crying just dehydrated my poor body even more. But do you know what? I was fantastic*.
*Unless you ask my wife who said that I spent the entire next day bitching about my hangover and even went to bed early like a total bloody lightweight.
Disclaimer: We here at The Fan Can recommend only moderate consumption of alcohol and do not endorse binge drinking. Basically, Matthew Waterhouse will never convince, no matter how pissed you get.
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