Diddly-dum, diddly-dum, diddly-dum...

I think pretty much anyone who knows me even slightly knows that…

*deep breath*

I am a geek when it comes to TV (and films, but that’s another story).

As if that wasn’t enough, my own particular brand of geekery doesn’t normally match what’s “in”, which for some reason almost always seems to be American, brought over here with huge fanfare and plenty of word of mouth. They just don’t really appeal to me. Maybe it's because I'm not American, I don't know. Not for me the BSGs, the Losts (I tried, I really did), the True Bloods or whatever else is popular this week. It’s similar but not the same with big Hollywood blockbuster films. With few exceptions I’ll watch and mostly enjoy them but they’re mere one night stands, normally forgotten straight after and rarely spoken of again.

Oh, there are exceptions – Smallville (the Superman legend retold completely anew fascinates me), Curb Your Enthusiasm (still the funniest show on TV, go watch it now), Family Guy (nothing to be said there) and a baffling, ever-failing yet ongoing attempt to like the original Star Trek (I adore the classic films but can’t stand the series, go figure) but my own particular fondness - nay, adoration! - is for a classic cult TV series that is wholeheartedly and unashamedly British.

I gained a thin sliver of credibility when the revived version of the up until then much maligned and unloved Doctor Who exploded into mainstream popularity like a hydrogen bomb in 2005. Having been a fan since the unpopular days of Colin Baker and Sylvester McCoy, through the wilderness years of 1989 – 2004 (with a brief Paul McGann-shaped blip in 1996) it was a bizarre experience to say the least. All of a sudden a bit of extra knowledge came in very handy when talking to new fans (who were otherwise normal people – this was unheard of!), filling them in with background on various aspects of the show – the Doctor’s history, past encounters with Cybermen, the Daleks, the story of the Master and so on – and of course the irresistible joy of making stuff up and seeing the more gullible lap it up… It’s infuriating of course when people ask questions I simply don’t have answers for because certain events happen off-screen. There’s a hefty gap between the Eighth Doctor leaving our screens in 1996 with a cuppa, and the Ninth Doctor turning up in a department store basement in 2005. Only one man knows what happened during the Time War and it isn’t me, it’s a tall gay bespectacled Welshman (I only fit one of those four criteria, and even then it’s borderline).

But I digress. My favourite series going from being laughed at to loved was, as I said rather bizarre. All of a sudden seemingly everyone liked it, and as an old-school fan (let’s call them Whovians, since that’s what we are) it almost took away some of the fun. Fans can be an odd bunch (the word ‘fan’ derives from “fanatic” after all), you only have to enter the scary realms of internet forums to find that out. To say that a lot of Whovians tend to feel somewhat proprietarily about the show would be an overwhelming understatement. To some degree – quite an alarming degree for the more vocal individuals - there’s a belief that we in some way own the series or have more right to it than anyone else. It’s for us, not the ‘not-we’ (or NuWho fans). I hasten to add that I don’t actually subscribe to that school of thought – good grief, if that was the main thought then the programme would never have come back in the first place (and some would say that was a good thing). Undoubtedly the best thing that Russell T Davies did when bringing the show back was to ensure it was first and foremost a family entertainment series, and not simply aimed at the fans. A tricky balance to get right, but he did it. There’s a marvellous interview quote somewhere when he was asked how he dealt with hardcore fans suggesting how it should be done, and his simple answer was to say that he just ignored them.

OK, OK, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that there was a tiny part of me that feels a pang of loss now that it’s popular again. It’s not the secret little club that it used to be for the few who can seemingly spend days debating whether Pertwee was better than Hartnell, where the events of The Two Doctors fit into established chronology or how the DVDs should be displayed on one’s shelf - I kid you not, there’s talk of changing the design of the covers and you can hear the howls of anguish from here (double sided covers would appear to be the solution by the way).

But there’s room for everyone. What we have here are two very different beasts that are in fact the same. The difference is that one of them is the massively popular and fun uncle who’s great to spend time with, and the other is his slightly dotty twin who gets hidden away most of the time because he’s a bit of an embarrassment.

Some NuWho fans have discovered the older series and enjoy the fact that it’s Doctor Who despite the not-so-special effects, the amusing acting and the overall feeling of cheapness. Some will be aware of the show’s history but watch the new series only, and that’s fine.

Some Whovians will refuse point blank to watch the new series and enjoy their battered Target paperback of The Auton Invasion, or watch Pyramids Of Mars on DVD for the nth time, and that’s fine too. Some of them may even give the new series a go out of curiosity and find that they like it after all.

And some of us will straddle both camps, enjoying the old and the new in different ways – the old with fondness and familiarity, the new because, well, it’s new. But it’s still Doctor Who.

And we’ll enjoy a warm rosy glow when someone comes along and says “So what’s the deal with the Macra then?” and we can tell them without feeling like a bit of a twat.

I tell you something though; nostalgia isn’t what it used to be...