I OFTEN wondered about Doctor Who's sex life. Did Peri, Zoe or Ace ever set his two hearts pounding?
Or did he have a soft spot in his time-space continuum for Jamie, the wee laddie in the kilt?
Perhaps he kept a stash of alien porno videos hidden behind the wobbly walls of the Tardis. Deep Space Throat, Debbie Does Daleks-etc.
In Hollywood's hi-tech Doctor Who (Monday BBC1). Paul McGann's tousle-haired Time Lord glimpsed the future in the heaving bosom of heart surgeon Grace Holloway (Daphne Ashbrook) and wanting his sonic screwdriver.
Well, when you're 720 years old, you need all the help you can get.
Sad anoraks who say The Doctor should have stayed in that sandpit off the A3, zapping monsters made from old egg boxes and sticky-backed plastic, must have swooned at the Terminator-style special effects.
Never mind the sight of their hero racing a motorbike through the streets of San Francisco and snogging amazing Grace. The inside of the Tardis now resembled a cross between the Science Museum and Frankenstein's castle.
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