Doctor Who Ruined My Christmas

“Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a cybermat.”

Okay, the best laid blogging plans are always up for a bit of revision when you have (a) a full-time job, (b) a life to live, and (c) all your blogging instincts consumed by Twitter. However, since migrating this site over it’s new hosted service on WordPress.com, not only has it all gone silent but I have barely given it another thought. Apologies and all that. With tomorrow’s Christmas special in the offing I figured it was high time to return to this under-developed, under-appreciated, under-whelming blog and give it another kick start in to life. So, I do plan to develop it, appreciate it and… erm… whelm it a bit, and all that will start with a review of “The Doctor, The Widow and The Wardrobe” at some point on Boxing Day.

In the interim, today’s Who’ish news has been the conclusion of the advent calendar: an experience so desperately soul-destroying that it could single-handedly suck the life out of Christmas itself with far more effect than any Sycorax invasion or a conversion to a “Master Race” could ever dream of. The issues….

  • It is described right up front as a “Milk Chocolate Advent Chocolate”. I’m sure that Trade Descriptions people need to get on the case because whatever the festering, brown concoction to be found behind the twenty-four doors actually was, chocolate it was not. It tasted of cardboard and despair.
  • Second problem was the doors themselves. Not a picture in sight. Surely it cannot be beyond the wit of man to print up some vaguely Doctor Who related images on the backs of the doors as a little spark of acknowledgement that, ostensibly and above all, should be a “Doctor Who” calendar. So, the closer you actually get to Christmas, the more the bleak and intimidating white space appears to block out the only Doctor Who picture they bothered printing.
  • Thirdly, after your digestive system has acclimatised over the course of three-and-a-half weeks to the consuming of these so-called chocolates (they didn’t kill me as I had first feared they might), you end up looking forward to the final door, number 24, which sits there and teases you with its extra-large dimensions and promise of a larger-than-average confection. Imagine then the disappointment of finding, with no hint of Whovian irony, that it’s bloody smaller on the inside than all the other “chocolates” that have gone before! [Bottom row, second from the right, if you’re looking at the picture]

So, there you have it, the worst piece of Doctor Who merchandise ever created. That’s £1.00 I’m never going to see again.

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