Lib Dems hate Jon Pertwee, and UKIP wants a straight Doctor most

Data on Doctor Who.

New Statesman contributor Jonn Elledge points out that YouGov has surveyed people's thoughts on Doctor Who. Which wouldn't be particularly notable, except for the fact that YouGov always breaks down surveys by demographics, including political affiliation.

So we find out that:

  • Only 31 per cent of people describe themselves as "interested in Doctor Who"; but that ranges from 26 per cent of UKIP voters to 41 per cent of Liberal Democrats. Interest also varies by age, with people aged between 40 and 59 most likely to be interested, and people aged over 60 least likely. (People under 18 were not interviewed)
  • When people were asked to pick their favourite Doctor, the top three were David Tennant, Tom Baker and Matt Smith. While the age breakdown was relatively unsurprising for some – with 18-24 year olds liking Matt Smith more than any other age group, and 40-59 year olds liking Tom Baker more than any other age group – David Tennant was the runaway favourite amongst every single demographic breakdown.
  • Jon Pertwee is the most right-wing Doctor, beloved by 11 per cent of Tories and 13 per cent of UKIP voters, and 0 per cent of Lib Dems.
  • Ladies love cool Dave. Tennant is the favourite of 55 per cent of women.
  • When asked what about the next Doctor, a little over half thought it was important that they were British. Whether or not they should be male had a strong party breakdown: 60 per cent of Tories and UKIP voters think it's important, and just 40 per cent of Labourites and Lib Dems.
  • UKIP wants a gay Doctor least: 36 per cent of them think it's important the Doctor be heterosexual, compared to just 9 per cent of Labourites.
  • But by far the biggest gap comes when respondents are asked whether or not it is important that actor who plays the Doctor, a thousand-year-old time-travelling alien from the planet Gallifrey, be white. Just 5 per cent of Lib Dems thought it was; 50 per cent of members of the libertarian, non-racist party seeking Britain's withdrawal from the EU do.

The whole survey must be taken with a grain of salt, though. After all, YouGov refer to the character as "Doctor Who", and we all know that's a sure sign of someone who can't be trusted.

Peter Davison, the fifth Doctor, beloved by 6 per cent of 20-39 year-olds. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times