The Curse of the Queues

If there's one thing Doctor Who fans love to do its queue. Its true, if there's a queue, fans everywhere will be happy. I'm not sure what is that has brought this about, perhaps its some genetic thing in built into every fan, but where there's fans, there are often queues. We noticed this at Panopticon. As has been noted elsewhere, the convention itself was rather shambolically run, and much queuing was involved throughout the weekend to get anywhere. Queues for the main hall before it opened, queues for autographs, queues for the lifts, queues up and down the stairs. Strangely enough not once did we hear any complaints about the size of the queues. Everyone just took their place in the queues and patiently waited.

At one point we found ourselves looking for the loos and found, unsurprisingly a long queue during our quest. On asking what the queue was for, fearing that the pant wettingly exciting news that Carole-Ann Ford was on the first panel had lead to a mad fanboy exodus to the toilets, the reply came back "Oh I don't know, we're just queuing." Proves my point. Fan queues are bizarre things too. No-one actually talks to each other, unless of course you know the people you are queuing with. There is always the fear that should you do this you might end up with some sad fan of the highest order talking to you. before you know it you might be stuck with someone telling tales of every celebrity they've met (OK that's me), you could be arguing why Hartnell swapped his wig after season 1, or which is worst Time-Flight or Timelash. You just don't want to be getting into that kind or argument with a complete stranger, just in case you appear sadder than them. So its best to stay silent.

You sometimes get odd looks as you stand there chatting to your friends too. Firstly its the fact that your nose isn't buried in a immaculate condition copy of "Transit" and more commonly because the other fans are craning to hear what you're talking about. We once got told off for taking the piss out of "The Mutants", which rather that a somewhat dull Pertwee 6 parter was in fact " a biting piece of satire on the colonial situation in the last 19th century." Yes, right, ok... There are some games that you can play to minimize the boredom while you wait for Sylvester McCoy to sign your latest BF CD. Queue spotting is good fun. There are several things to look for, fans not dressed entirely black (its rare, but then I shouldn't take the piss I'm dressed entirely in black today), who is the saddest looking fan (difficult when mullets and dodgy scraggily long hair is involved), spot the ones who've been camped out since the previous night to be just a few people in front of you in the queue, and if its a Tenth Planet signing you can always look out for the fan who brings his own fold-up chair and holds the queue up by refusing to move every time someone actually gets to go into the shop!

This queue experience has led to some curious new expressions among my friends. We've queued so many times at Tenth Planet now, that its brought about a whole new way of quantifying the queuing experience. Thus the Queue at the McCoy/ Colin signing in the summer wasn't a Manning sized wait, but at the same time wasn't as quick as Grantham/Molloy. The Queue on a good day might move at the speed of a Two Doctors signing, at other times we might be stuck in a Fielding sized queue moving at the speed of Talons. You could be there all day then. Chances are of course that once you get in sight of the doors, the stars need to stop for a lunch break (after 1/2 hour usually), toilet break, tea break or cake break (Guess which 80s Doctor we spotted sauntering back from Somerfields with a bag of chocolate teacakes in the summer?) or whatever reason they can find to hold the queue up for another 10 minutes. Apparently it all just adds to the signing experience.

A good friend of mine once summed up the whole ridiculous nature of the Doctor Who fan relationship with queues when he noted that he'd queued for four hours to meet John Bennett and Christopher Benjamin but only queued 45 minutes for tickets to an exclusive Madonna gig. Kind of says it all really. So its a pity that instead of suggesting in the early 90s the fans all march on TV Centre and demand a new series, someone hadn't suggested the fans all queue up in protest. Think of the possibilities, an organised queue from all over the country to the gates of TV Centre. It would have been Doctor Who fan power at its very best, though of course those at the front of the queue might now have the unhappy thought that there's only another year or so to go...

11th November 2003