No 5: The Time Warrior
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've recently upgraded the size of my telly by a considerable 14 inches. Pertwee's nose is almost knocking over my beer can.
A medieval bastard is flinging wine about the place. What a senseless waste of precious, precious wine.
"A toast to Irongron's star!" Be rude not to. My first slug.
The Sontaran wields a sort of wand, not completely unlike Terry Wogan's Blankety Blank stick mic.' This is used to zap enemies though, rather than poke under the noses of micro-celebs to capture tiresome double-entendres for the benefit of idiots.
Not sure why I got so aggressive towards Blankety Blank there; I've only just started drinking and it was perfectly harmless viewing, far as I remember.
Oh yeah, forgot - he's called Linx! Prepare yourself for some pretty bloody special 'Linx Effect' jokes, yeah?
Irongron's men are marvelling at the Sontaran's mightily impressive double-headed erection. It must his…wait for it… Linx Effect! Yeah? Yeah?
OK, that's the only time I'll do that, I promise. And I was talking about his flag anyway.
At last, the Doctor! And he looks like a cross between Jimi Hendrix and a St Patrick's Day Parade.
"Not exactly the Ritz I know" says the Brig. I did a shit at the Ritz once. Just walked straight in off the street, put on my poshest voice, crapped one out and then left before anyone could enquire as to what right my bowels had emptying themselves there.
I wonder if Pertwee ever did a shit at the Ritz?
Irongron shoots an apple. That's a gulp. If I was drinking cider, I'd make a cider analogy but I'm not, so I won't. 9:30 Bagging a mouthful for the Doctor's nom de plume, "John Smith". It's a catchphrase. Oh stop moaning, it is.
Sarah Jane Smith's first appearance! Let's down this mother.
Dot bleeding Cotton! She's barely changed in 40 years. Not sure whether that's praise or an insult.
The Doctor's boasting about his particles to Sarah Jane. I ain't falling for this crap; it's technobabble so gets a gobful.
Linx's magic wand loosens the tongue of a man with exposed nipples.
Now it sets fire to an axe!
Now it's doing an impression of Su Pollard!
Alright, I made that last one up.
A U.N.I.T grunt takes a potshot at a hologram of Linx. Is it too early to try another 'Linx Effect' gag?
TARDIS takes off! Gulp.
TARDIS lands. Gulp.
Arrow Fire! It's a projectile, so totally counts within the "gunfire" rule. Probably.
Sontaran reveal. And roll credits.
And he plops his hat back on.
"Argh! That narrow-hipped vixen" says Irongron of Lady Eleanor. A lot more elegant than "bony slut" I guess.
Linx is talking reproductive cycles. You're absolutely sure you don't want another 'Linx Effect' joke?
The magic wand zaps. That's a chug.
Oh, so that's why they call him Bloodaxe – he kills people with his axe. Presumably the Doctor would be called Neckrub.
A robot's getting pummelled with arrows. I'm getting plied with alcohol. Boom.
Doctor's pretty handy with a crossbow. Handy for me anyhow, as it gets me more beer.
Decapitation! Oddly, that's not in the rules.
Pertwee tears out some iron bars using only his brute strength. Not bad for a man whose hairstyle is probably known as "a Doris" in his local barbers.
Holy shitcakes! Linx has threatened the Doctor with his wand.
Zap! The wand makes him squint a bit. Which is worth a quick sip.
Supping to Pertwee's neck-rubbing.
Guzzling to Linx speechifying about his glorious race. Yeah, whatever mate. You can't even shave properly. You've got old women's wispy lips.
Gallifrey gets a gulp.
Linx: "I have no interest in human evolution". You're making an enemy of Richard Dawkins there my friend, watch your back.
The Doctor's being made to feel pain by a pair of headphones. Must be listening to Sting.
Hurrah! A guard gets duffed up and I'm getting boozed up. Come on violence, let's do this.
The Doctor's zapped by Mr Magoo's less visually-gifted brother.
Some kick-ass Venusian Aikido/Karate/Judo/Whatever. Glug.
Someone – presumably Terry Walsh – is dancing around the courtyard laying waste to Irongron's pitiful posse of pussies. I'm drinking to that.
Blimey, looks like Pertwee's for the chop. And not in a Colin Baker kind of way…
Three arrows fired means a hefty knockback of liquid.
Love the description of Pertwee: "Long shank rascal with a mighty nose". It's the medieval version of "huge-conked streak of piss".
Pertwee seems to be really enjoying this. A little more than I am if truth be told.
Mention of "Rembrandt". That'll get a sup out of me, 'cos nothing else is right now.
Spoke too soon – a mention of the Timelords.
Actually, Pertwee and Sladen are rocking this.
WOAH there! Did Irongron say what I think he just said? Better rewind.
WHAT face? He couldn't have. Rewind again.
Surely he didn't say that? I'll try the subtitles.
Oh, "toad-face". That sounds nothing like what I was hearing. Must get my ears syringed: I swear he used that word that women hate even more than they do jokes about women drivers and women's periods and, well, everything else Jim Davidson has ever said about women.
"They've got guns!" declares Sarah Jane, after being shot at. Good to see that her journalist's eye for fine detail hasn't deserted her, Anyway, that's a reason for drinking.
Another shot! Another slug.
Explosions! Cool. This is a bit like that bit in Rambo that's nothing like that bit in Rambo.
Yes, this is more like it – explosions, arrows, violence and shit, yeah? Getting pissed to Pertwee.
Wine-waster Irongron is splashing it about like he's Rocco bleeding Siffredi or something. NB: if you're at work, best not Google that name, ok?
Not much happening now. Wonder if there's a Police Academy on ITV4 or something.
Oh god no – on ITV1 Ken Barlow is telling Piers Morgan about the sex he's had and ITV4 has a Steven Seagal movie on called Fire Down Below. Screw this, I'm heading back to the Dark Ages or whenever.
Guzzling to the cliff-hanger. It's more of that wand thang.
Zap recap. Drink!
Ooh yeah, you smack that probic vent. You bad probic vent, you want it you naughty little hole you. Erm, hang on a minute there Miles.
Hmm, a wench struggle. If pornography has taught me anything, this will almost certainly end in sex.
Swordplay! Like Coldplay, but not utterly shite.
(Alright, I still like their first album. Daresay I wouldn't be admitting this if I hadn't been drinking).
No wench sex yet, but it's early days.
More sword-waggling. More swigging.
Pertwee's robot ruse is rumbled! Blimey though, even under his helmet, his barnet is immaculately coiffured. It's like a wig carved from memory foam. Hinge & Bracket would kill for such spring-back.
Pertwee's dodging bullets. Bang a mouthful down.
Good job they're such shit shots, although Pertwee's bloody nimble for someone who looks like an injured knee. Multiple swallows for me.
Terry Walsh swings slowly from one end of the room to the other. Is that really a stunt?
Drinking to more Venusian ass-whupping. Good job Venus seems to be the planet of martial arts, rather than say, Soduku, or JP would have been FUCKED.
Irongron's men are taken out by a bowl of stew. I once got punched by a hotdog.
Well, it was a bloke in a hotdog costume.
Well, just a bloke if I'm being completely honest.
And I say "bloke", but it was more like, you know, a woman.
And it was less a punch, more a slap.
Dear God though, did it hurt.
Some more zapping and violence gets the alcohol flowing freely. I'm quite hammered, innit?
Oops. Terry takes a tumble for the TARDIS team.
Irongron's zapped to the afterlife. That's worth a few swigs of ale.
Ooh nasty. Linx gets an arrow to the Sontaran equivalent of his nutsack. That's a drink finisher right there.
Hurrah, an explosion!
Hang on! The Doctor's not going to say goodbye to Dot? He'll regret that when her smack-addled son starts nicking all the family silverware to buy more delicious drugs and he's not around to help.
The TARDIS takes off which means my last throatful of intoxicant. Got a thirst for more beer and action now. Wonder if that Seagal movie's still on?
U.N.I.Ts consumed: 9.9
Robert Holmes serves up a flagon of charm with this – a romptastic slice of silliness, sadism and sorcery that gets the gulps going when it really counts. Admittedly, there are quite a few scenes that involve the characters seemingly talking about the narrative, rather than driving it (presumably borne out of story-stretching necessity). These pregnant pauses of dialogue indulgence are rarely less than entertaining however, and provide a little respite from the rule-adhering moments of balls-out action madness. Pertwee's an engaging presence too, playing against his default characterisation of volatile sanctimony. Highly recommended, despite the lack of wench sex.
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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