Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Dr Who Cake

The boys brought a tardis cake when they came round tonight - I loved it so much I had to take a picture. And post it.

It's funny, when I was a kid, we never watched Dr. Who. I remember it randomly being on TV and it being WAAY too scary for me, so then when I arrived here I didn't really want to watch it. It actually kicked off when C was here, and I figured it was a v. british thing to do with our Saturday evening. It was the first of a v. compelling 2-parter and that was it. I was sucked in. Now they're on hiatus for the summer (although I missed all the episodes from the autumn, so it's not too bad). I'm going through David Tennant withdrawal.

Random quiz (Wikipedia/IMDB NOT allowed): why ELSE might I find David Tennant compelling? (Other than the fact that he's fab as the Doctor and quite easy on the eyes...)

John's on a business trip tomorrow night, so I'm going to be having artichokes for dinner (he finds them too prickly but I LOVE them). I can't find my mom's recipe for the sauce so I'm going to have to ask her again...oh well.


Mark said...

In his early days in Victorian London, David Tennant performed street magic alongside such greats as Bernard the Man-Cabbage and The Amazing Fabuloso of Penge. David's act often grabbed the attention of hundreds - sometimes even dozens - of passers-by. His most popular trick was most probably "sawing a plank in half", a feat of such incredible prestidigitation that no magician since has dared to perform it in public.

Blessed with the power to heal the sick using only a hospital, and the power to return sight to the bland, David Tennant's reputation grew and grew. He gathered about himself a band of followers, men and women who gladly abandoned their professions and former lives to spread the word about him. They shouted his name from the rooftops, they circulated his name on Ye Internette, they posted posters in the post office, and by the turn of the century almost everyone in London had heard of this man who, they said, could perform miracles.

Unfortunately, at the peak of his career David Tennant was cruelly struck down by a runaway offal cart - the first of many signs of his apotheosis, according to followers of The First Church of Tennant - and wasn't heard from again until his reincarnation in 1949 - the first of many signs of his deification, according to the followers of The Second Church of Tennant.

The Book of Jeffrey, Chapters 12-14, states: "There shall be a sacrifice of the fatted calf and thigh, and, lo, verily even, shall come again a man who will work miracles, and if within a week you can find the same miracles cheaper anywhere else, he will refund double the difference."


Mark said...

He has a large collection of Judy Garland memorabilia?

Mark said...

He spends one third of his waking hours indulging in personal grooming?

C said...

Because he can do that freaky tongue-flicker thing?