The Doctor Who team were threatening to reveal the actual name of the Doctor, something with almost zero excitement because who really cares? What does knowing his name add to anything? Have people been fretting for 50 years thinking, "But what's he called?" No, they haven't. Because most people think he's called Doctor Who (and apparently in the film, some of the books and even some of the TV series that is how he is credited. I haven't seen the show - I've sat through most of the rest of the series but have not been enjoying it, but then I am nearly 46 so maybe it's not aimed at me - let's hope the other fans of the show don't have that moment of self-awareness or the country might be in a riot of disillusioned, chubby, middle-aged nerds (mainly though because I was getting ready to go on stage. I totally would have watched it and despite my wish to distance myself from all this I am still a chubby, middle-aged nerd writing a disapproving blog about a kids' show which is surely much worse than being one who is just enjoying it) - but I am guessing that they don't reveal his name. Mainly because there's no name that would be satisfying or live up to the suspense. "His name is Ian Norman." Oh...
"His name is Flantibaart Munchmekalm" Oh dear....
"His name is Doctor Watson." Then he regenerates into Tim from the Office and the rest of the franchise combines with Sherlock, which would at least mean the team are not trying to write two major TV series at the same time.
"His name is unpronounceable in any human language," Yeah, that makes sense really as he is an alien, but still bit of a cop out.
The only thing that would have been any fun would have been if his name was revealed, "Dr. Who", with the Doctor abbreviated. That would have been in one in the eye for the Doctor Who pedants.
As sales were a bit poor in Hereford (there were about 70 or so in in the end) I tried to whip up interest in the show by saying on Twitter that tonight I would finally reveal my name. But I guess I had failed to put in the years of work of keeping my name a secret. It's on the posters and tickets for a start. Some people don't know my middle name, but I've been quite loose-lipped about that over the years as well. It's Keith. Damn blown it again.
Maybe a better tactic would be to reveal my Twitter password, or my debit card pin number and then leave the card on the stage during the interval. I reckon I could pack out the massive Wyvern Theatre in Swindon if I could find the right secret to reveal.
The Hereford gig went really well and I did a much better performance than I had managed in Great Torrington. I was also a lot less grumpy
than the last time I was here (though the gig was less well attended) - and I got to come back one year earlier than I had anticipated then. I did almost fall foul of
the step up to the disabled toilet in the dressing room again though.
After the show I was introduced to a couple who had been at the same resort as my wife and I in the Maldives in January. In fact they had been on the same fishing trip where I had been annoyed by
the "I have a fish!" woman. They didn't know who I was then, but they had come home to tell one of their friends the same story and their friend was a reader of Warming Up and had put two and two together and worked out we were literally in the same boat. They had been similarly annoyed by the woman and had also been given the trip in return for their booking having been screwed up. Weird that about one thirty-fifth of my sales tonight came from that incident. But thank God they weren't the people that I'd been slagging off around the pool on the blogs from the same holiday!
