Once the sole preserve of sweaty little anoraks, Doctor Who now couldn't be any more mainstream. Unlike the crazed, weak lemon drink-sipping loons who tried to break in to last night's screening through a fire escape, a mole managed to blag an invite.
Littered as the crowd was with 'talent', there was much strange behaviour to report:
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Adam Woodyatt, a man forever doomed to be even more of a geek than his character Ian Beale, was seen clutching a larger camera larger than most of the paparazzi.
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Jo Whiley was spotted artfully draping her children over a Dalek for a photo - it's a photo love, not fucking flower arranging.
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Jonathan Ross was seen watching the screening with a real, live, tiny puppy in his lap.
- Catherine Tate, a ginger crow with broken glass for eyes, who lead a coven of BBC comediennes in staring daggers at the one critic who dared to suggest she was a bit shit, and later stalking her tormentor at the after party.
Still, if Tony Blair had upstaged me using my own catchphrase, I'd be fuming too.
