The older we get, the more we tend to lose. Hair, sex appeal, dignity: all succumb gradually to time’s rampaging, pitiless march. As a fan of an unfeasibly long-running sci-fi show that can boast more episodes than George Michael has parking offences however, one thing I’ve lost almost completely is shelf space.
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| My pal the inflatable Dalek in better, less puncturing, times. |
That fan impulse to covet, collect, and hoard merchandise related to our fave programme has swollen my personal collection of needless Time Lord ephemera and worthless Who bullshit to now absurdly impractical levels. Sonic Screwdriver? In my pants drawer. Classic series monster toys? Jostling for position next to photos of my family members (there’s a Sea Devil threatening, somewhat inappropriately, a treasured photo of a deceased loved one). Inflatable Cushing movie Dalek? Deflated after the kids punctured it, somehow.
My home isn't transcendentally dimensional - it's pretty damn small. So, like the Pope probably didn’t say when he resigned, “shit’s gotta’ go, man”.
I started whittling in earnest just a few months back. Scooping up armfuls of over a decade’s worth of Doctor Who Magazines - pausing only to save those in which my occasional missives were published - I spread the resultant papery tower across my living room floor for a quick snap. A quick tweetpic to @DWMtweets, thanking them for the memories, but was regrettably disposing of the lot, and I was done. Or so I thought. They re-tweeted it. To over 50,000 followers. Who instantly spread it like fiery digital herpes across Twitter’s virtual orgy. With barely any warning, 50,000 magazine-hungry Whovians sudden, urgent aim in life was to acquire the contents of my recycling bin.
@Time_Lord_Ticklepants “Noooooooooo!”
@GallyWhoGurl “Don’t do it!”
@RassilonsBallbag1963 “e-Bay them!!!!! I’ll buy them!!!!”
@RubbedOneOutToPertwee “What’s your address? I’ll come to collect them NOW. Serious!”
I knew he was serious. It’s why I spent the next hour hastily deleting any passing mention of my actual location across all social networks. Eventually tiring of the incredulity, exclamation marks, and passive/aggressive pleas of reconsideration, I reluctantly acquiesced and made room for them in the attic.*
Instead, I’ve turned my attention to the one constant pretty much every fan has in multiples – DVDs. Not the discs themselves, but the covers (though if I accidentally snapped The Web Planet in half I wouldn’t be too upset). I’m ditching those lovely uniformed roundel-adorned silver slip cases in exchange for an ordered, but anonymous and utterly charmless CD briefcase. ‘Cos the show’s the thing, yeah?
And thanks, your discomfort and disapproval is noted. It burns me. But it’s either that or lose my trousers, and clearly, that’s something nobody wants. So, I’ve divorced each from their beautifully-assembled photo montage cover, most of which make the adventure look that much more exciting than it actually is (except for Time Flight’s dreadful effort, which reflects accurately the content therein). Flimsy Eccleston TARDIS boxset? Gone. Trial of a Time Lord’s glitzy package of eighties nostalgia? Binned. And, cruellest of all, The Complete Davros Collection featuring my absolute favourite Doctor Who character ever that isn’t the Doctor himself.
Have I the right? Well, sorry Doctor, but I absolutely do.
*since binned, but managed to send a few out to a few fans good enough to trust me with their addresses.
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| The tweet that started the madness |
I started whittling in earnest just a few months back. Scooping up armfuls of over a decade’s worth of Doctor Who Magazines - pausing only to save those in which my occasional missives were published - I spread the resultant papery tower across my living room floor for a quick snap. A quick tweetpic to @DWMtweets, thanking them for the memories, but was regrettably disposing of the lot, and I was done. Or so I thought. They re-tweeted it. To over 50,000 followers. Who instantly spread it like fiery digital herpes across Twitter’s virtual orgy. With barely any warning, 50,000 magazine-hungry Whovians sudden, urgent aim in life was to acquire the contents of my recycling bin.
@Time_Lord_Ticklepants “Noooooooooo!”
@GallyWhoGurl “Don’t do it!”
@RassilonsBallbag1963 “e-Bay them!!!!! I’ll buy them!!!!”
@RubbedOneOutToPertwee “What’s your address? I’ll come to collect them NOW. Serious!”
I knew he was serious. It’s why I spent the next hour hastily deleting any passing mention of my actual location across all social networks. Eventually tiring of the incredulity, exclamation marks, and passive/aggressive pleas of reconsideration, I reluctantly acquiesced and made room for them in the attic.*
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| Doctor Who DVD covers IN A BIN. |
Instead, I’ve turned my attention to the one constant pretty much every fan has in multiples – DVDs. Not the discs themselves, but the covers (though if I accidentally snapped The Web Planet in half I wouldn’t be too upset). I’m ditching those lovely uniformed roundel-adorned silver slip cases in exchange for an ordered, but anonymous and utterly charmless CD briefcase. ‘Cos the show’s the thing, yeah?
And thanks, your discomfort and disapproval is noted. It burns me. But it’s either that or lose my trousers, and clearly, that’s something nobody wants. So, I’ve divorced each from their beautifully-assembled photo montage cover, most of which make the adventure look that much more exciting than it actually is (except for Time Flight’s dreadful effort, which reflects accurately the content therein). Flimsy Eccleston TARDIS boxset? Gone. Trial of a Time Lord’s glitzy package of eighties nostalgia? Binned. And, cruellest of all, The Complete Davros Collection featuring my absolute favourite Doctor Who character ever that isn’t the Doctor himself.
Have I the right? Well, sorry Doctor, but I absolutely do.
*since binned, but managed to send a few out to a few fans good enough to trust me with their addresses.
Addendum: We've now done this with all of our DVD's and CD's (below). Blu-Rays get a pass, 'cos they're Blu-Rays, although my wife keeps looking at them threateningly. With the CD's, we made two album print things for the walls, featuring a select few choices of music dear to either or both of us through the years. There are MANY notable omissions, but if I started listing them, we'd be here till they've cast the 27th Doctor or something.
