I, too, have been horrified by the news of the casting for Doctor Who (Editorial, 18 July). So horrified, indeed that I almost sprayed the very fine kedgeree I was eating when I heard the news across the family silver. Even now I can barely write the words: they have cast someone from Yorkshire. My God, just think of the implications. Will the Doctor do battle with the Daleks wearing a flat cap? Will K9 return as a whippet? Will ferrets be smuggled down the trouser legs of power-crazed aliens? I could, I must, go on. Tripe and onions will clog the controls of the Tardis. The Doctor will be reduced to monosyllabically grunting “Aye” and “Nay”, so that we’ll think of utterances such as “’Appen” and “Pull thissen together” as Shakespearean flights of dazzling wit. And she’ll drink tea. Gallons and gallons of dark brown tea from a chipped pint mug. Won’t someone, please, think of the children?
Huw Evans
Huddersfield, West Yorkshire
• Join the debate – email guardian.letters@theguardian.com
• Read more Guardian letters – click here to visit gu.com/letters
