Then, as I considered the Russell Davies-driven reboot of the franchise, I wondered, "Who are all these frenetic spotty youths carrying the title in the current episodes?" The wisdom and gravitas has been replaced with ADHD-inflected pseudo-messianic nonsense.
The most recent episodes are like some manifestation of Jim Carrey's id; all frantic limbs, booming music and dialogue that sounds like someone fired it out of a blunderbuss. I find myself longing for Tom Baker to sidle up to some deranged alien invader, pleasantly offer him a jellybaby, then escape from certain doom in a billow of tweed and scarf.
I suggest that when The Doctor next regenerates, instead of making him female, or gay, or black, or any combination thereof, as the uber-PC BBC probably feels constrained to do, turn him back into a cranky old white male. Let him provide the brains while the companions provide the muscle. Imagine how paradigm-busting it would be if, instead of yet another aimless disaffected yoof who needs The Doctor to lift them out of their dull, miserable life, we had a companion who was a tough, capable SAS soldier? Or a Dana Scully-style cynical government agent? Heck, even a successful journalist like Sarah-Jane Smith would be a step up from the semi-employed slobs who've been cluttering up the TARDIS of late.
We've had five seasons so New Doctor Who so far. Perhaps it's time to reboot the reboot?