Peter Bromhead: The next Doctor

Cartoon / Peter Bromhead

I'm rather surprised the BBC ignored my offer to portray the next Time Lord in their forthcoming episodes of Dr Who.

After all, I'm now so old, it feels as though I've lived through several centuries. I also have all the essential clothing to play the Doctor, including a dark blue overcoat and a long knitted scarf - and I can still hand-knot a bow tie.

More importantly, I've been on the flight deck of a genuine Tardis, as a small child.

In my case, the machine - in its earthly shape as a blue police call box - happened to appear on the Southdown Hills in Hampshire in Britain, close to where I had fallen off my trike, suffering minor cuts and bruises.

A kindly Time Lord, disguised as a policeman, assisted me into the Tardis and dressed my wounds with iodine and plasters. I recall the white interior and a first aid box mounted on the wall. There was also a small table occupied by a large black telephone.

To this day I still puzzle how that particular Tardis disguised its true function.

The simple decor gave no hint that I was standing in the control room of a craft capable of visiting other galaxies or tumbling into different time dimensions.

But I do recall the phone being wondrous, because the kindly Time Lord allowed me to ring a certain number which set off the blue flashing light on the Tardis' roof, diverting my attention from my wounds.

Another reason I should have been considered to play the Doctor is because of my experience coping with mutant Daleks.

My home is overrun with them, thanks to my children. Daleks are always trying to ambush me in the night, waiting to trip me on the way to the toilet, or worse, trigger off some sort of apoplexy when I accidentally sit on them on the lounge sofa and they start snarling, "Exterminate! Exterminate!"

But proof that I've been aboard a genuine Tardis as a child doesn't cut any ice with the caregiver, which is perplexing.

When I solemnly showed her the concrete pad where it once stood, she scoffed at my belief that it was away on another cosmic adventure.

She tried to fob me off by saying modern communication technology had made the police box obsolete.

However, we Dr Who devotees know better, don't we?