Hey there everybody. My name is David Tennant - woops, sorry - James Nesbitt.
Shit! No - actually I'm Paterson Joseph. I'm secretly in disguise now because my private life has been made into a living hell by all those screaming fangirls who keep chasing me down the street and wanting to rub my hair before demanding I recite them some of the more rude bits out of Hamlet in my genuine actual Bathgate accent. Can't a bloke get some peace? It's not like I'm famous or anything!
So in order to protect my identity I must assure you all at this point that I really am definitely Robert Carlyle. He can't be me, he's Scottish!
Or maybe Chiwetel Ejiofor if you squint a bit and can spell his name, which I can't cos I had to look it up on the internet which it took me ages to find since like I said how am I supposed to find out how his name's spelt if I can't type it in? The world is a difficult and confusing place sometimes. Sigh.
All of this means that I'm definitely not the Doctor or anything. Or at least, I won't be by the time anyone gets around to reading any of this. So by that point I'll definitely be safe from exploding teenage girls and those creepy and slightly older men who occasionally chase me around Cardiff sceaming all kinds of unpleasant things about how I've totally ruined something, or killed it forever... some TV programme I've been involved with, not sure which one. Might've been Blackpool.
I'm a proper actor, you know. I can do accents and everything. (Cor blimey love a duck! That's one.) Now that I’ve been set free from Russell T. Davies’s Big Contractual Torture Dungeon (where I spent a punishing four years being hung over a custom-built cliff by Russell himself, since he had been a bit upset that there weren't enough actual cliffhangers for the Doctor in Nu-Who and had to physically enact them himself in order to feel truly satisfied and content in his life) I'm doing a little moonlighting as a TV detective and professional opener of blogs that specialize in mainly ripping the piss out of anything to do with Doctor Who.
So in my capacity as that then, I'd like to invite you all to stick your eyes right into this here thing called televisionoff. Go on. Stick them right in till they're bleeding! STICK THEM IN!!! You can even take them out of your head if you want.
Hang on - televisionoff? Just a minute, let me just type that in... Nope. I've tried searching for it and I can't f$%^ing find anything! What a waste of time! If I were you I think you'd be better off reading Angry Who Fan instead. At least that's funny.
Anyway, cheerio for now - I'm off to sneak into a hospital, put on a white coat, try and pass myself off as a bumbling but loveable medical professional and hopefully solve a murder or two.
I bet it was that loud, bespectacled, award-winning Welsh television producer who really killed the Doctor! Arrest him, Steve!
(note for readers - this is an elaborate and quite probably pointless joke referring to Diagnosis Murder. It may or may not return in the future. Or in the past seeing as how this is Doctor Who. You have been warned).
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