The BBC’s naff sermons make for joyless, predictable television.
I loved Doctor Who as a kid. Especially the monsters. From the Autons, those plastic animated shop dummies which burst through glass storefronts everywhere in the very first episode of the 2005 reboot, to the unstoppable Daleks, the thought of which kept me awake for nights on end. In later series, thrilling terrors included the Weeping Angels – ‘Don’t blink; blink and you’re dead’ – and the Vashta Nerada, flesh-eating shadows that can move.
Sad that good shows are ruined by woke idiots who think their craziness will be embraced if it is packaged just so.
