THE DOCTOR WHO RATINGS GUIDE: BY FANS, FOR FANS

Robert Smith?
Webmaster and Editor-in-Chief

Mail reviews to: smithr@math.mcmaster.ca


Robert Smith?'s day begins when he puts on his Doctor Who underpants and drives to work a perfect replica of the Whomobile (although he still can't get it to wobble unconvincingly when it flies). He's stationed a police box in the corner of his office, just so he can pretend to be working on the dematerialisation circuit whenever passers by wander in.

He has a white hatstand by the door with a small battery pack at the base. When he's feeling bored, he'll occasionally buzz the cleaning lady with it while dressed in a school uniform. He's also decorated his office to look like a spaceship -- only it's the spaceship from Invasion of the Dinosaurs, so he can get that special feeling when he walks outside into the real world, secretly knowing that Operation Golden Age could be almost upon us.

He's restructured his computer so that it hums Wagner and displays a funky wobbly line that quivers when it speaks to him, but he got the booming voice down just right and whenever he disagrees with it, it laughs and says "Stevens, you are a sentimentalist!" For recreation he listens to jazz and Doctor Who CD's on a simple eighties stereo... incorporated with a holographic display showing the positions of Cyberfleets. Whenever he answers the phone he always does so by saying: "Kandyman!"

When he use the shredder, he likes to pretend that the paper going into it will serve a greater purpose in the glorious gardens of Chase Manor. Occasionally he'll shred a black leather glove when no one's around, just so he can pretend to grasp it as it tragically slides away. When the pigeons come by his window he orders his secretary in and hands her the rubber bands, saying: "Miss Johnston. Chaps with wings -- five rounds rapid."

He likes to spend his lunch hour asleep in a full size replica of the Hand of Omega coffin. For afternoon snacks he'll alternate between jelly babies and Sil's marshminnows. As the clock drags its way to 5:00, he'll usually try to stay awake and interview clients while wearing the clockwork orange thingy from the telemovie. It's surprisingly comfortable.

Only in the evenings, when he gets home to his apartment (decorated to look like a police box on the front door, but a grandiose white control room, with paper plates stuck to the walls inside) does he allow his obsession to really flourish.

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