No 7: Time and the Rani
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 takes off/lands
Doctor and/or crew's identity queried
Psychic paper used
Sonic Screwdriver used
Historical figure introduced
Catchphrase (eg. Exterminate)
Self-sacrifice saves the day
Title of the adventure is mentioned
The Doctor uses a pithy putdown
Oops! Continuity, prop or dialogue malfunction
Soliloquy of the villainy
Mention of Gallifrey and/or Doctor's family (except Susan)
Finish your drink when:
The baddies are defeated
A companion is introduced
A companion leaves/dies
The Doctor regenerates
I'm starting with whisky as I've just had a mammoth Man Vs. Food style eating session for no good reason.
Blimey, zaps already. Best get sipping.
TARDIS lands. Another polite sip.
"Leave the girl. It's the man I want." That's quite a sexy line.
"Take him to my laboratory." That's less sexy.
Oh crap, the Doctor regenerates (of sorts). Down goes my triple whisky. Hell, this is 12 year old single malt scotch. What a waste. It's like getting to do some sex in the person of your dreams and then spunking it all up on the first stroke.
Sod it, I'm doing beer instead from now on.
Einstein! Quick chug for the brainy mutha.
Kate O'Mara is being so damned arch she might as well be a croquet hoop. Thanks to my instantly half-cut status, I'm actually quite enjoying it.
Woah there Sylv'! It's alright you know, this is television with close-ups and stuff. There's really no need to over-compensate for the people in the cheap seats…
Erm, what the shit did the Doctor just say? It's like watching Rocky whenever Rocky talks.
Hang on, is this a Sylvester thing then? Because come to think of it, that cat of the same name has a speech impediment too.
A monster fires a sparkling net. Much like orderlies from mental asylums and cartoon dog wardens, I expect. Swig to that anyway.
Good grief, it's Mel's arse. I'm so not drinking to that.
The blonde scaly-faced woman caused an explosion and is trapped in a giant floating marble. Mouthful to that.
She's toast. Even better, more beer!
Ew, she's a skellington! Creepy. Skellingtons are inherently scary.
Oh my life, I'M A SKELLINGTON! Bloody hell, I hope I don't eat me.
Bonnie yelps. I gulp.
Kate O'Mara as Mel. You know, I've never found this funny, until now. And I'm giggling my balls off.
"A bull in a barber shop." The Doctor's mangled proverbs or sayings, or whatever, are a catchphrase for this episode. A slug for that then.
"Fit as a trombone". Sigh. Beer.
Ooh, Mel's nuclear white trousers are taking a dirt battering in this quarry (sorry, "planet Lakertya").
Explosion! Scream! Beer!
Another big bang.
Another explosion. Another mouthful.
McCoy slaps his silverware onto O'Mara's funbags. I'm admitting it right now – this is shit, but remarkably enjoyable shit.
"A bad workman always blames his fools". Bleh.
"The more I know me, the less I like me". Can't help but think that's a bad line that invites an unfavourable response, on par with Colin's "I am the Doctor – whether you like it or not!"
Effing Nora, it's the costume scene. Good god, it's like watching CBeebies, only more outwardly condescending to its audience.
The Rani slugs the Doctor. It's for the best. Anyway, punching equals drinking so I'm totally down with violence.
"Absence makes the nose grow longer". My pint's down. Let's crack open another.
Explosions plus screaming. Loads and loads of screaming. Bonnie brings beer, it would seem.
Another explosion plus yet more bloody screaming as Mel is launched into space, like a hysterical ginger pinball. Roll credits.
These opening titles go on for ages. I'm spinning through.
SHIT! I've knocked my can onto the floor. Hang on, I'll get a towel.
Had to pause it whilst I mop up the mess. (That's not the first time I've ever used that sentence.
Unpause. Well, that took loads longer than if I'd just sat through the bloody credits. And now the carpet's probably drunk. What if it starts a fight with me? Or tries to shag the rug? Then what?
Screamy recap. Christ, she's like an amplified dog whistle. Any more and it'll perforate my frigging eardrums. Beer numbs the pain, probably.
More perilous yelping. FFS Mel, shut that shit up or next time I'mma drive-by me and my homies gang-bangin' y'all crib. Peas Pottage fo' real.
Given the above, it's probably fair to say that I'm a little drunk.
Sylv' gets twatted on the head. I'm just getting twatted.
A watery explosion! Make your own crap diarrhoea joke here. Boozin' it regardless.
"More hasta – less vista". More beer, less bullshit would be nice.
Jesus Jones, my ears! Mel's just troubled my precious cochleas with her glass-shattering pitched screams. Reminds me of my English teacher. He was completely deaf in his right ear and as such, asked us to always address him to the left. Occasionally, we'd pretend to forget, hand our work to him to the right side, and then whisper things like, "you are a wanker" directly into his useless sound-repelling lughole.
Not that he deserved that; he was a genuinely lovely man who only ever said encouraging things about me. Schoolchildren are bastards.
The Lakertyan is firing spot welder's sparks.
"A kangaroo never forgets." 2nd pint down.
What? This shot is COMPLETELY blurred. Who's the focus puller - Stevie Wonder?
Other "blind people punchlines" are available: David Blunkett, PJ off've Byker Grove, Al Pacino in that film where he goes "hoo ha" etc.
More spoonin' around from McCoy.
A Tetrap fires a shit trap.
What in the name of Terrance Dicks is going on? Sylv' does a little roly poly courtesy of old carrot top's aggressive gymnastics and I'm supping along to this like a thirsty dog.
Wow. Screaming, fighting, drinking - it's like being in Aldershot, only marginally less enjoyable.
Mel: "I've had enough of this drivel". No comment.
Ooh, McCoy is finally being good in this bit.
You can totally see Mel's pants in this shot.
You totally don't want to though.
McCoy's great in this bit too. His contemplative, subdued persona is much more readily digestible than the manic spittler we've had so far.
Oh my tits – I've never noticed, until right this second, that the DOCTOR'S JUMPER IS TUCKED INTO HIS TROUSERS. Whose idea was that?
Another mangled catchphrase gets me another gobful of Danish brew.
The Doctor ties up a remarkably compliant and clearly embarrassed Kate O.
Crumbs, the Doctor's trapped by the Tetraps! (I did that once whilst doing up my flies without looking. It bled and everything).
Another mixed metaphor. Yeah, it's starting to get quite tiring.
A lame-o scrap between Sylv' and a birdbloke. The score tries its best, but it's like painting go-faster stripes on a tortoise.
Mel screams. 56:12 Mel screams.
We all drink to Mel screams.
Another cock-eyed catchphrase and I'm sinking pints faster than…don't know. I'm too drunk for analogies. Perhaps I could do a mixed-up one like the Doctor? Give me a minute.
An explosion and a death! Huh, that's just…erm…a storm in a laptop. See? No. More drink, less metaphors.
A Lakertyan dies of a pixellated bee sting. I couldn't care less.
The Doctor throws his hat down in anger. The fifth probably used to rage-chew his celery. I guess the fourth would have had aggressive sex with Romana, or K-9. Pertwee probably just had a room full of Civil Servants to bellow at or do some Aikido on or, blimey I'm drifting. Is this still on?
Yes, sadly. Drunk and bored. Not a good combo….
…what the..? I've genuinely been asleep for five minutes.
There's a giant cloth brain for some reason.
More screaming. More screaming. Oh, to hell with this. I've had enough. GAME ABANDONED
U.N.I.Ts consumed (up till the end of episode 3): 11.5
Time & The Rani's lack of subtlety is hammered home by way of tiresome repetition for a consequence-free ninety-something minutes. There are opportunities to down liquor aplenty, but its initially amusing foibles are unsustainable, consequently collapsing under the weight of its own idiocy pretty bloody swiftly. The final episode – which I dutifully watched the next day – is as tediously predictable as watching a looped Little Britain sketch for four days straight. Unfortunately, Time & The Rani fitted my second choice of drink perfectly - cheap, flat and no matter how good a time I thought I was having, I came out of the experience both bloated and regretful. Not recommended.
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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