And just when I thought I'd end up finishing the last part first. Oh well. Mind you, I'll get pissy emails, if any, from folks saying it isn't their Sam. Of course not. To be honest, he's not even mine, but he's got a life of his own right now and it's best to just let him get on with, lest the fic stall, like part 2 has. So I was trying to finish this while it was pouring out of my head. Blast and damn.
Mind you, Life on Mars is one show at least where you could at least mount a reasonable defence against pedants (even though the most evil and demanding of pedants no longer deigns to speak to me, I still hear her shrill tones in my head as I try to write).
I mean, which is your Sam? Coma Sam? Time Travel Sam? Mad Sam? Dead Sam? A combination or all of the above? More often than not I find my fic settling on one Sam, for the sake of my own sanity as much as anything else, but I enjoy toying with all the other possibilities. And what a magnificent caveat, that any inaccuracies or anachronisms are merely symptomatic of Sam's psychosis.
But, anyway, whaaah, it was really flowing. I was flying. And now it's all dried up. I want chocolate. Sulk. Pout.
Ooops, I do detect hormones. Can't have one without the other, alas. For me, anyway.
But all this is just spoiler space before I get onto my mini Doctor Who fest (and again, a big grinning thanks to my generous and long suffering Who enablers). Btw, I'm still completely gobsmacked that DW won the BAFTA, but at least I can say I was watching a BAFTA awarding BBC drama series and sound vaguely sensible without ever having to mention the big blue box or the little metal dog. (and I hope LOM gets a look in next year - it had better).
So, the werewolf one. It starts out like opening scene of many a BBC frock drama, which amused me greatly. This is the one I play for BBC snobs, then. We move on to evil kung fu monks, which I'd always thought were shamefully lacking in DW. Sadly, the episode soon devolves into a lot, and I mean a lot of Scooby Doo chases up and down corridors, and the ending was a little too clever and contrived, but my, the library scene did evoke BTVS, and before I could pine too much for Giles, there he was.
Well, as an evil headmaster anyway, if that's not too much of a tautology. My one gripe was that I didn't buy the kids, they weren't creepy/zombied enough, not like they used to be in old 70s kids shows. If they weren't going to be Grange Hill, they should at least be Children of The Stones. But never mind. There was K-9, and this time they actually made me give a damn about the tin dog, and Sarah Jane.
I'd never realised how much I'd missed Sarah, how I'd grown up with her, until I saw her again and damn nearly teared up as I finally got closure on her rather abrupt (for me, as a kid, watching) departure from the show. There was real emotion this time, real angst, and I liked that, and I loved how Sarah and Rose fought over the doctor, then bonded over his many foibles. Oh, this episode had real heart, and sadly Tony was was limited to a couple of scenery chewing bits of impotent half arsed and rather incompetent evilness. Real B plot stuff, the baddy was that week. Still, I loved him scolding K-9, in exactly the same tone he used to use to scold Xander (guess who was the tin dog there - heh). I mean, if you swapped Mickey and Xander, would anyone really notice?
I remain bemused by how much Buffy there is in the new Who. I keep trying to get my old Buffy friends to watch, but they resist. You really should, it's more Buffy than latter seasons Buffy, if you take my meaning. I don't mind it. Best of both worlds, and all that.
But, basically, loved to bits. Could do with a lot less running up and down corridors, no matter how much of a series staple it is, but other than that, and the woefully cgi'd werewolf (Oz looked more realistic), I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
Heh. Just spent a glorious time lampooning the office newsletter. It's the addition of another two gloriously obscene database acronyms that had us crying. I really do wonder about the people who think these things up. I daren't repeat them here, but trust me, one could devote an entire standup routine to our (unintentionally gynaecological) office jargon.
Meanwhile, I made a coffe and thought there was only a tiny bit left at the bottom of my Starbucks bag so I upended it into my plunger, but there was a bit more than a bit so if you get any deranged emails from me at 2am, well, okay, even more deranged than usual, that's why, 'kay?
Doctor Who: Elisabeth Sladen talks
Doctor Who videos
Sex on the brain: it's on the nose
Life on Mars
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