The BBC made porn for me. They made it specifically for me. They gave my libido a checklist and then they wrote an episode of Doctor Who specially to please me.
Doctor Who: End of Time is so. damned. hot.

Honestly, every shot of the Doctor in the entire hour-long joyousness was made with me in mind. First off, he’s the Doctor and I kind of have a thing for him, especially when he’s played by David Tennant.
Secondly, the first shot of him in the episode has him strapped down to a very uncomfortable chair, including his head, and one of the straps doubles as a gag. He gets taunted. He tries to talk his captor into letting him go and undoing his dastardly plot. He gets punched in the face as an interrogation method. By this point I am very happy.
Then he gets rescued ineptly and wheeled down the stairs still in the chair which, okay, is not so hot. I think it’s the rescue-ness, and also the slapstick.

Then we have despair and loneliness and shame and more despair. In space. We have a strong man refusing to do what he’s always refused to do in this incarnation, despite persuasion, because he’s already made that choice. Then the Master makes an announcement that breaks him enough to take the gun and try and kill the Master to stop him resurrecting the Doctor’s own species, whose destruction was at the Doctor’s hands, about which he is still tied in guilty knots. He misses them desperately and he’s got to stop them returning by killing the only one that’s left. Are you getting how good this is yet? This is fucking beautiful.

He falls through a glass roof. His suit is all ripped. His face is all cut up. He is begging the Time Lords and the Master to see things his way. With a bleeding face. On his knees. I want him. More emotional torture while he tries to decide who to shoot. He eventually finds a solution, closes the rift, locks his people back into their bubble. He’s expecting to die. Cuts on his face. Despair and resignation and almost peace because he did what he had to do. Fucking beautiful.

Then he finds he’s not dead, because the Master saves him in pursuit of his own vengeance. I have no words for how hot that moment is. On his knees, torn up and bleeding, sobbing with relief.

Then he finds that he is dead after all, for one ordinary bloke who was just trying to help and is now stuck, and saving him means dying.

The BBC is making porn especially for me. He rants and raves and rails against the cruel world, and then he decides. You can see him decide. You can see the moment where he chooses between being alive and being himself. And, calm and assured, he carries through that decision. It hurts him. Physically hurts him. He’s in agony. He’s dying of heroism with a cut-up face. He made his choice and his choice is killing him and now all there is to do is endure the pain.

I’ll be in my bunk.

Advertisements