Rarer than hen's teeth

It’s a little after midnight on Saturday morning, and it’s now officially my birthday. I’ve already had ‘Happy Birthday’ sung to me in the Travelodge bar (very quietly, as I threatened not to give them a lift home), and we’re now back in the room and I get to open my presents.

‘It’s come a bit unwrapped in my bag’. Corinne passes my present over. I can see through the paper what looks like the Doctor Who logo on some card. It can’t be, for they are impossible to get hold of.

I open it, and turn it over. It is a ‘Mini John’ figure*. I’m a bit overwhelmed. Cat picks him up, ‘the profile is uncanny’. And indeed it is, for earlier this evening, we saw real live John on stage at The Sage, Gateshead**.

We turn him round to examine his other ermm, credentials. ‘That bit’s not quite as accurate’! For in reality, the Barrowman a**e is indeed a vision to behold.

*or, if you wish, Captain Jack Harkness, but he will forever be Mini John.
**Of which much more later