Doctor Who and The Big Bang

I’m not complaining, it was great, one of the very, very best ever episodes of one of the very, very best ever shows in the universe, but I haven’t a clue what it all blooming meant. Have you?

Dirty big cracks all over the time-space continuum, or something like that (a colleague tells me that we have one right here in the Echo building – so that’s where all my notepads keep going), the Tardis spinning out of control in a ball of fire, the Doctor missing, then not missing, the flashbacks, the two Ponds, the one River, the one very cryptic River, the romantic robotic version of Rory, the huge, Indiana Jones-esque box and a second Big Bang.

Compared to this, the original Big Bang theory seems simpler than the Tellytubbies.

It was beyond baffling but they all looked like they knew what they were talking about, so I just went along for the ride.

The main gist was that at last the ancient Pandorica (the big box) was open and, just as in the mythical tale, it was causing all sorts of pandemonium throughout space and time – a bit like the moment when England’s perfectly valid goal was outrageously disallowed on Sunday, but even more so.

It was proper bonkers, with the universe – well the props in the big place that could have been the Natural History Museum – slowly diminishing before our eyes.

Occasionally, I worry that younger children might be scared by some of the frankly petrifying baddies and I know that’s what Who is all about, but those creepy, Weeping Angels would give Hannibal Lecter the heebie-jeebies.

This time, however, I was thinking, if I can’t get my head round this, how is a seven-year-old supposed to?

But who cares?

Not the seven-year-olds, not me and certainly not the legions of Who fans who all love a bit of speculation and conspiracy theory and who agree, mental plot or not, that this show, and especially this finale, was out of this world good.

Why?

Steven Moffat’s writing is pristine. Silly but deeply geeky, clever but funny, dramatic but cynical.

And the cast is class.

Karen Gillan is just perfect as Amy Pond, the slightly bemused, slightly exasperated, slightly awestruck, slightly in-lust assistant.

Plus she has that other rare talent, the ability to wear a micro mini and look cool rather than tarty.

Her fiancé Rory, played by Arthur Darvill, has come into his own from the shaky early days when it looked like he was just another simpleton boyfriend, thanks to some nifty Moffat one-liners.

Alex Kingston as the enigmatic and tough-as-old-boots River Song could carry a show on her own.

The feisty loyalty combined with the constant teasing and cryptic clue dropping make her endlessly intriguing.

When she got the Dalek to beg for mercy it was one of those clenched fist “yesssss!” moments.

But it is Matt Smith who makes it wonderful.

As an actor the guy is unquestionably unique, and not just looks-wise, he is brave, too, because he’s happy, in fact he’s startlingly keen, to look stupider than the Chuckle Brothers, soppier than a love-struck St Bernard and Madder than a Hatter on Extra Mad Day, and yet he always seems so cool. Everybody loves him and we all want to go in the Tardis with him ’cause he’s a laugh and because he likes to wear a fez.

And when he staggered out of the Tardis in top-hat and tails at Amy’s wedding and did a bad-dad dance that was so bad it will live forever à la the David Brent one off The Office. So funny.

Smith is the youngest ever Doctor Who, yet thanks to this gift of a script that he gets to play with and his impressive acting he comes across as the oldest and wisest yet, which meant that he not only got away with that gorgeous little speech to the young, sleeping Amy (“Silly me. Silly old Doctor. When you wake up, you’ll have a mum and dad... And you won’t even remember me. Well, you’ll remember me a little. I’ll be a story in your head. But that’s okay. We’re all stories in the end. Just make it a good one, eh? Cos it was, you know? It was the best. A daft old man who stole a magic box and ran away. Did I ever tell you that I stole it? Well, I borrowed it. I was always going to take it back.

“Oh, that box, Amy. You’ll dream about that box. It’ll never leave you. Big and little at the same time. Brand new and ancient. And the bluest blue ever. And the times we had, eh? Woulda had... Never had. In your dreams, they’ll still be there. The Doctor and Amy Pond. And the days that never came. Something old, something new, something borrowed... something blue”) but you could easily believe this 26-year-old was really the same age as Christchurch Priory.

I’ve always been a big fan of Christmas, but now there’s the Doctor Who special to look forward to as well – Geronimo!