OK, so neither the costume nor the written piece ever quite got done. I think it’s pretty funny stuff though!
So you want to be a Peter Davison look-alike? First, be born with blue eyes and blonde hair (and being male helps too). I managed all that, so it was in my destiny to imitate the greatest Doctor ever (yes, I do mean Davison!). Of course, as is the nature with projects like this you didn’t actually do anything for a year or so. That’s just not the way. So, in the end, it is an accident that will finally push you into action. Your mother gets you some pajamas, and you immediately say ‘How did you know I wanted them?’ And so you never wear them as pajamas, but instead have the pants respond to a higher calling. This means the top will sit in the back of your drawer, and grow neglected and moldy, but that’s quite another story…
Next: the cricket jumper. This can be both the easiest item to acquire, and the one that causes you the most frustration. Have an aunt who is an expert knitter, but not so sensible (ie. one who makes the somewhat rash promise to knit something for each member of your family). You realise this is the chance to progress on your Davison costume, and send her detailed instructions on what you want. To save her sanity remember to mention why you want such a jumper. So it is knitted, and that part seems to be completed. Seems to be…
So now I’m planning for the costume to make its debut at the convention Q Who in 1992 (hey, come on, if you haven’t realised I’m talking about myself yet, you’re, to put it mildly, a little slow). A month to go, so you’d better get busy and somehow get the hat and coat. But then Fate, via the conduit of the washing machine, will intervene. OK, I’ll just wash the jumper, you say. It hardly needs it, but it certainly couldn’t hurt. Right? Wrong! So the washing machine manages to, out of all the clothes in that load, totally fry the jumper, eating sizable chunks of wool from the front and side. Needless to say, it has never done this before. To call it selective (and discerning) is an understatement. The Q Who debut goes out the door. You feel sillier when Dallas Jones calls to confirm you will be in the costume parade. ‘Er, ahh, the washing machine ate it… really!’
Subsequently you do a bit of grovelling and convince your aunt that she really would like to make you a replacement. Meanwhile you go looking for a hat. The Yellow Pages reveals many a millinery downtown, so that is where you travel one day. They all seem to be hidden in tiny alleyways, and you are astonished by the incredible variety of hats that are nothing at all like Davison’s one. So you’re trekking off to the next shop on your list and you choose to take the path through one of the arcades that burrow their way through the heart of the city. And abracadraba! you come across a hat shop you didn’t know of and find their impressive stack of panama hats. It probably has a black band, so you hunt down some red with white polka-dots fabric and, in your endearingly amateur way, fashion an alternate band.
So now you pause to take stock. You have the pants, the jumper, the hat. The tennis shoes are no problem, as are the (red) socks. A little butchery of the lapels of a white shirt you already have shouldn’t be too much of a problem, once you actually get around to it. A stick of celery is easy (making it stick is another thing altogether!). Maybe now you decide to give your costume — minus coat — a trial run. So off to a club meeting you set. You take the bus because that means you get to laugh at all the people totally perplexed by your clothes (but not as much as when wearing a billowing black cloak on a Friday night, as a few Melbourne and Taree Who fans could testify). You get to the meeting, accept some ridicule and praise, and enjoy yourself magnificently. You deflect a cheap shot regarding your lack of celery, pointing out that as you have no coat it would be incorrect to attach the celery in the incorrect place. On the way home you get some wolf-whistles.
Then you wait a further nine years before not getting the only item still required: the coat. Oh well; you publish this instead for a laugh.
Here’s the list of the Doctor Who assorted tidbits available here:
→ How to Create a Costume
→ 1996 DWCV Cricket Day Report
→ The Black Box series of jokes
→ The Pit: what are the worst ever Doctor Who stories?
→ The Second DWCV Whodunnit Murder Mystery Play
→ The Third DWCV Whodunnit Murder Mystery Play
→ Or just head back to the Doctor Who Index
This page last updated by David J Richardson on Wed, 8 Jan 2003.