100,000BC

The beginning. We know how perfect the very first Doctor Who story is, even if nobody can actually tell you what happens in three quarters of it. It doesn't matter - the majesty of the opening twenty five minutes makes up for it all. As you grow older more and more of the 'magic' of Doctor Who fades away as awestruck imaginings over colour "Keys of Marinus" pictures and wondering when the titles changed becomes knowing that you'll never see "Marco Polo" and working out during which story Pertwee shagged Manning. But the very fact that Doctor Who's first episode is so utterly, heartstoppingly perfect (in the same way "Bohemian Rhapsody" is a perfect song, it is so good it becomes incomparable with anything else within its alleged genre) remains the one, irrefutable bit of magic that won't ever be transcended by the cold harsh realism of growing up and learning more.

I sometimes wonder if actors ever know that a bit-part they earned six guineas for on a rainy week in the sixties means so much to some people. A few of them do, of course, and have been graciously milking the cow of fan kindness for decades. But the unlucky ones who died before the first Doctor Who fan graduated to ownership of a credit card and some ham-fisted organisational skills were buried in happy ignorance of the absurd hero worship that was to come.

I once had a friend who was obsessed with Eileen Way, the actress who played Old Mother in "100,000BC". "There shall be no fire!" became his catchphrase, and he actually used to call himself Eileen, which was a shame as he happened to be a twenty one year old homosexual. There were others in his life of course (he once cleared a train with his impression of Lady Remmington) but Eileen was his favourite. I can recall being round his house and him excitedly showing me her last ever tv performance, which he'd managed to track down, some awful Children's TV series in which she played a trademark old hag. I mean not to mock - I think it's lovely that the old woman, who appeared in just a handful of Doctor Who episodes, is loved and remembered by someone.

I have the same thoughts when I read Out of the TARDIS in DWM (I still think I was personally responsible for the change in format of that long-running column when I tactlessly complained to the editor about the worthlessness of being told appearances of Doctor Who actors that you'd missed on the telly). Who else would care that Second Saracen On The Left from "The Crusade" has died, aged 93, in Bermondsey. Who else would organise a memorial day for Doctor Who bit-part and Voice Of Mr Kipling Cyril Shaps, or actually have his day ruined by learning of the news that Ann Tirard had passed away (that was me by the way)? If you're in Doctor Who, you're special to someone.

I don't think I'll ever see "100,000BC" again without Old Mother being infinitely more than a dull old woman in a couple of Doctor Who's most forgotten episodes. The best characters to hijack are the ones nobody else wants. Which, in a cack-handed way, brings us back to the appeal of this shimmering, faded, beautiful old Doctor Who opener. Like Eileen, it means so much to so many, for different reasons.