Allons-y! Doctor Who’s 60th anniversary with David Tennant, Catherine Tate and the introduction of Ncuti Gatwa as the 15th incarnation of the Doctor is almost upon us! Being a fan since my sweet and naïve youth, I can barely contain my innate sense of ‘whovian’ glee and wonder. 

For those of you who are feeling completely clueless…whose eyes have not witnessed sci-fi excellence…let me explain. 

Doctor Who is about a 900-year-old time-lord from the planet Gallifrey, who flies through time and space in the TARDIS (a blue police box) with his (mostly) human companions whilst saving the universe from evil aliens and monsters that threaten to destroy it. Oh, and I should also mention the Doctor carries a sonic screwdriver! The genius of the show is that the Doctor has two hearts and can therefore ‘regenerate’ into a new body right at the point of seeming death, which has allowed the show to constantly reinvent itself. First broadcast on 23rd November 1963, the show remained on air until 1989 before returning in 2005, cementing its legacy as a televisual touchstone, providing stories of faraway planets, slimy monsters, alien invasions, plastic robots and a metal-robot dog, called K-9. 

The first episode of the show I ever saw, Smith and Jones, was recorded onto a VHS tape by my grandparents, who unknowingly started a borderline unhealthy obsession. The opening title sequence with its swirling mass of colour, the story of a hospital on the moon, with a rhinoceros police force called ‘Judoon’, a blood-sucking ‘plasmavore’ and Martha Jones being whisked away by a dashing young man in a pin-stripe suit in red converse to explore the wonders of the universe (which my unaware self at the time didn’t realise was a subtle queer awakening), had me transfixed. That day I must have almost worn the VHS tape down with how many times I re-watched it. By my third watch through I was already pretending I was the Doctor, with a makeshift Phillips screwdriver, shutting all the doors in the house to protect myself from aliens.

And that was it…from that moment on I was Doctor Who mad. I implored by parents to buy the DVDs of episodes I had missed, waited feverishly for future series, dressed up as the Doctor, played with the action figures, read the books (and the weekly magazine). The 2000s were THE time to be a fan – with exhibitions, concerts and endless spin-offs that led to the creation of a ‘multiverse’. (Doctor Who did Infinity War before the MCU and they did it better. Yes…I really did just write that). I dissected episodes intently with the only other fan I knew at the time (my mum) and can vividly envision going to see the behemoth Toys ‘R’ Us displays of merchandise. I even remember the ‘TARDIS’ and ‘Dalek’ cakes I had for birthdays, themed ‘Frubes’ and tins of ‘wholewheat pasta shapes’. To this day, chords of music from the show can bring tears to my eyes and I am not ashamed to say I have danced to the theme tune…alone…in my bedroom…countless times. 

Beneath all this nostalgia lies my true love for Doctor Who: It simply allowed me to disappear. Whenever the real world felt too scary or overwhelming, I could fly off with the Doctor, to anywhere my imagination would take me. It made me feel less alone, giving me the bravery to stand up to the far more terrifying human monsters that surrounded me. 

The show’s companions became my feminist icons. From Martha Jones to Sarah Jane Smith, these were the women who inspired me, taught me to stand up for what is right and to never back down in the face of the most insurmountable fear. Its subtle LGBTQ+ representation, with the inclusion of an omnisexual time agent showed me that our differences make us valuable, that out in the vastness of the universe, we can be anyone who we want to be, a message my little gay heart carried with me until it was ready to be set free. 

Therefore, it feels slightly odd, as a fan who has stuck with the show, to see so many excited for its return. In recent years interest has waned and viewing figures have fallen. However, the fervour around it all is bringing me right back to those days of childish joy. 

You may ask…’Is any of it bad?’ 

Oh yes…some episodes are true clunkers. It doesn’t matter though. They make me laugh, still transporting me to a place of happiness and joy. At the core of the bad episodes still lies a set of characters, looking to find something better amidst the monotony of life. It is the characters that the fans fall in love with, it is them that make us adore the show despite its occasional inconsistencies. These stories are as quintessentially iconic as the rest of the show, reaching a level of camp that I hope I will be able to achieve in my lifetime. 

Ultimately, Doctor Who is an incredible piece of television or, as the Doctor would say, ‘a big ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff’. Like all great sci-fi, it provides an escape. It offers us hope, Jammie Dodgers and Jelly Babies. The idea there is a person, out in the stars, willing to risk their life to save us? In such a gloomy world, what’s wrong with looking out to those stars once in a while? 

If only I could step into that little blue box that’s bigger on the inside… 

To coincide with the 60th anniversary, ‘The Whoniverse’ has launched on iPlayer, featuring 800 episodes of Doctor Who and its spinoffs. 

If any first-timers are interested I recommend starting with the 1st episode of the revival: Rose. This should ease you in. Trust me, ‘you’ll have the trip of a lifetime!’

The post  My Love Letter to Doctor Who (Opinion) first appeared on The Life of Riley.

Watched it yet? Surprised? Disturbed by the idea of people eating human meat? Well, you wouldn’t be left out. 

Channel 4 should be commended for keeping this under wraps until its broadcast, hiding its satirical, mockumentary style. I was undoubtedly left unawares, brushing it off as another piece of ‘fluffy entertainment’ in which Greg Wallace dons a hairnet until I stumbled across scathing headlines, exclaiming how viewers were shocked when they tuned into Greg Wallace dining on pieces of ‘human meat’. 

Yet this is the brilliance of this scathing satire: it masterfully disguised itself through the framework of formulaic docuseries such as Inside the Factory. The elements are certainly all there: Greg Wallace making exclamations and grinning from ear to ear whilst staring at pieces of machinery and listening to employees, statistics comparing factories to the size of football pitches, and a lively female presenter, strolling the High Street, gathering opinions from the public. 

Through employing this format, the premise appears frighteningly plausible: members of the public have been left with no other choice than to cut pieces of their tissue off in exchange for paying off their exorbitant bills, caused by the cost-of-living crisis. 

Greg Wallace: The British Miracle Meat also succeeds in producing feelings of extreme discomfort in subtle yet sophisticated ways. As Michel Roux Jr. and Greg Wallace test pieces of ‘human meat’ they talk about the type of individual who ‘donated’ their flesh and how their background impacts the way that it tastes, which speaks to the way people and services are continually undervalued, judge against their societal standing, bodies, and jobs. 

The head honchos behind the human meat corporation ‘Good Harvest’ arguably represent those in power who are ignorant of the pain others are experiencing, signalled by the claim that the operation used to harvest the ‘miracle meat’ is ‘pain subjective’. 

Another biting moment comes with the reveal that ‘Good Harvest’ is researching human leather for the fast fashion industry, highlighting our love for consumerism, no matter the impact it has on others or the planet. When the episode turns to interview members of the public, the enthusiasm exhibited at such a cheap piece of ‘meat’, with little care for how it is produced, or what it actually is, indicates the sheer desperation and measures that people are willing to go to merely survive during periods of exorbitant inflation. 

It is worth emphasizing that all of this is packed into a concise yet breezy 20 minutes. Many will be (and have been) left upset and enraged over the content of the mockumentary, left horrified at the prospect of screaming children undergoing ‘pain subjective’ medical operations to create a ‘premium’ brand of meat. 

However, isn’t this the entire point of satire? To make us feel uneasy or uncomfortable? 

At times like this, where many, including myself, have become blindsided by the devastating impact the cost-of-living crisis has caused, satire can rupture the public consciousness, alerting people to the societal problems through a format many of us turn to for mindless escapism. Satire forces us to confront that which we often ignore, are not aware of or don’t want to address. 

The just under 400 complaints made to Ofcom expose exactly what the mockumentary wanted to: how society is willing to live in blissful ignorance of the bleak realities of others, reluctant to relinquish the seemingly happy façade that satires such as this seek to tear down. 

So, will Greg Wallace: The British Miracle Meat continue to send shockwaves through the UK or elicit a response from those in power? 

No. Probably not. 

Yet…this may not even matter. The fact it compelled me to write this article, to confront my own ignorance demonstrates that it has succeeded in prompting discussion, however small it may be. 

If you still haven’t watched it (even after my imploring at the start of this article), I think it is an essential piece of viewing, a searing piece of television that will only take 20 minutes of your time. 

If for nothing else, watch it for the revelation I had: that Greg Wallace can act.

The post Greg Wallace: The British Miracle Meat – Review first appeared on The Life of Riley.

So, it may come as a surprise when I say that I utterly adore the football-centric Ted Lasso, a show that has changed my perspective of the game entirely. 

Originating as a character in an NBC sports ad in 2013, Ted Lasso debuted as an Apple TV+ show in 2020. It tells the story of the titular character, (played by Jason Sudeikis) an American football coach hired to be the new coach of AFC Richmond in the UK. The catch? He knows nothing about football. We follow Ted, the team and all those involved with the club as they navigate the game itself and the life that they have beyond it. I was hesitant to watch the show but after all of the buzz that it garnered (including seven Emmy wins for its first season!) I reluctantly hit play…

And I am so glad that I did.

Those who have yet to tune in can be forgiven for believing that this is a show all about football, but it is much more than that

Originating as a character in an NBC sports ad in 2013, Ted Lasso debuted as an Apple TV+ show in 2020. It tells the story of the titular character (played by Jason Sudeikis), an American football coach hired to be the new coach of AFC Richmond in the UK. The catch? He knows nothing about football. We follow Ted, the team and all those involved with the club as they navigate the game itself and the life that they have beyond it. I was hesitant to watch the show but after all of the buzz that it garnered (including seven Emmy wins for its first season!) I reluctantly hit play.

And I am so glad that I did.

As Ted Lasso wrapped up its third and supposed final season in May, I have begun to realise how impactful this show has been for me. Those who have yet to tune in can be forgiven for believing that this is a show all about football, but it is far much more than that. As Ted tells the journalist and writer Trent Crimm (James Lance), in response to his book about Richmond FC, “It’s not about me. It never was.”

Ted Lasso is ultimately about people, and the beauty in the everyday. Throughout the show we go on a journey with all of its characters, watching them grow, develop, learn and make mistakes; it is a show in which there is genuine, impactful development between each episode and season.

Ted processes his anxiety and father’s passing, Jamie Tart (Phil Dunster) turns from a self-centred celebrity into a considerate, self-aware human being, Rebecca (Hannah Waddingham) moves from wanting to burn Richmond FC to the ground to loving it wholeheartedly and selling it to the fans. Nate Shelley (Nick Mohammed) goes through an entire villain origin story, realising that actions have consequences before finally beginning to realise his own self-worth. Keely (Juno Temple) tackles the dark side of fame whilst becoming a powerful business and media mogul whilst Roy Kent (Brett Goldstein) slowly tackles his built-up exterior. We also see Richmond team member, Colin Hughes (Billy Harris) grapple with his sexuality, in a refreshing take on what it means to be LGBTQ+ in professional sport, which is vitally needed for so many across the globe.

Ted Lasso deals with an excessive amount of content, which is one of its main criticisms. One could argue that its rather saccharine, positive mindset pushes social issues upon the audience. But isn’t this what we need right now? In a TV landscape full of sex, violence and drama, it is rather refreshing to see a show that deftly balances the difficult moments that many face in life with the affirming message that things can truly get better. It is also satisfying to witness the true demise of a villain, seen here with the owner of West Ham United, Rupert Mannion (Anthony Head).

It is fair to say that the show’s third season suffers from being slightly bloated with long run times to accommodate one too many plot points. None of that really matters, however, as the show manages to offer a send-off to its vast array of characters that reflect the huge global audience that adore football, characters that I have grown to love.

football isn’t just about the game, it’s about the people it brings together

In genuinely caring for these characters whilst watching the show, I began to see how important and incredible football can be. In perhaps my favourite moment of the series, Rebecca delivers a rousing speech to club owners, chastising them for trying to further monetise football and take it away from the hands of those who love the game: the people. Rebecca says she doesn’t want to be “part of something that could possibly destroy this beautiful game”, as a hauntingly beautiful rendition of Spiegel im Spiegel can be heard in the background. I shed tears when watching this. Tears for a game that I usually hate. Through the lives of the characters, that I came to deeply care for, I finally realised that football isn’t just about the game, it’s about the people it brings together, the feelings that it can rouse and the communities, friendships and relationships that it can forge.

Now, I may not be heading to a football match anytime soon, but I will forever be grateful for Ted Lasso for teaching me the beauty of ‘The Beautiful Game’.

The post Ted Lasso: The Beautiful Game – Review first appeared on The Life of Riley.