Collecting merchandise is an odd pastime; Its almost a sub-hobby, like collecting autographs, dressing up, writing fanzines, and so on, and as such it takes the pointlessness of the original hobby and plumbs new depths with it. In the arena of Doctor Who merchandise collecting, Who records are of rather mundane standing, below essentials such as books and videos, but some way above the David Howe end of the spectrum - TARDIS bubble bath, K9 underpants, Bonnie Langford action figures in differing coloured blouses. Even record collectors have their standards though. Various versions of the theme tune - okay. Incidental music - slightly more specialised, but still fair enough. Novelty records... well, if you must. But straight recordings by Doctor Who actors? I dont think so.
Even I know that. And I dont collect autographs, either. So why, thinking that it fused both of these forms in one artefact, did I even consider buying Nacogdoches? I can explain. Sort of.
I didnt buy it while in the first flush of my fanaticism, unfortunately. Back in the mid eighties I worked my way through Gary Russells indispensable DWM Merchandise Guide, but never progressed far beyond Doctor Who - the Music, and, er, Doctor Who - the Music 2. Anything as exotic as Fraser Hines Help MBoab Its Jamie McCrimmon seemed a world away - although Ive always been rather fond of the exceedingly underrated Doctor Who theme as performed by Neil Norman and his Cosmic Orchestra. Anyway, as I was saying, Nacogdoches leapt out at me at a car boot sale in the early nineties, when I was actually looking for proper records, by proper bands. No, really. As I was browsing, there, in amongst other sleeveless 45 gems, was a record with a signature on it. I gave it a cursory glance, my fingers already flicking on to the next disc. Tom Baker. Tom Baker? Im sorry...? What was this record?
I dont remember the exact details, but no doubt my heart beat a little faster. Nacogdoches, composer T. Baker, performed by Tom Baker. Signed by Tom Baker. Now, I have every respect for Gary Russells research, and I knew for a fact that Nacogdoches was not mentioned anywhere within the 1984 Merchandise Special. So what did that suggest? Another Tom Baker? Impossible! And the year of publication was just right - 1977, the peak of Toms powers. Whos to say that, after finishing Talons of Weng Chiang, he didnt nip into the Dusty Dickerson Music Co. on his way home and dash off a recording of a little ditty hed written in his spare time - no doubt with help and advice from Robert Holmes; the obviously sci-fi influenced Nacogdoches? And it had a b-side as well! Which appeared to be named, er, Bumpin Frog. Okay, it was seeming less likely by the second. But could I take the chance? Of course not. And it was only ten pence. So I bought it. And ran home to play it.
Nacogdoches is a dreadful, truly appalling, country and western song, sub-Garth Brooks, sub-Dolly Parton, sub the lot. Im goin back to Nacogdoches, blah blah blah. And, needless to say, it wasnt our Tom, merely an impostor, some hillbilly to boot. (Having said all that, Bumpin Frog is quite fun. Nice comedy bassline.)
So I kept the record, as a trophy of all that is sad in my life. I would get it out occasionally and have a good giggle, give it an affectionate dust, and put it back in the display cabinet. And that was all it was ever destined to be, until I happened upon the Longleat conventions, and started making a habit of queuing for Tom Bakers autograph. Gradually an idea formed in my head. Perhaps I could get him to sign it, and vindicate myself, and my entire tragic existence, in one go! It was just a joke at first, but on sharing it with like-minded individuals, we came to the conclusion that Tom would probably find the whole thing rather amusing. So it was decided. Next time we met, at the Waterstones signing, Tom would be presented with the sliver of plastic, laugh uproariously at the story, sign it, and all would be right with the world. What could go wrong?
Perhaps I reckoned without the fatigue that Bakers tour was inducing in him. Perhaps, after hed already signed my copy of his book, my use of the words Could you sign this as well, please? brought the consciousness shutters down chez Tom. Or perhaps it was just the curse of the autograph queue again. But, you see, he didnt even notice! He lifted his pen above a record label that had his name emblazoned on it in three places, scanned the surface for a blank space, and scribbled his signature. Then he looked up at me, smiled - a smile that begged Thats all? Isnt it? - and bade me good wishes. Or something. I stumbled off, dazed and confused.
Eventually, I laughed heartily. After all, the tale of Nacogdoches is one of such utter depravity that it was never going to end in any sensible fashion. And at least I achieved my objective - possibly the most surreal item of Doctor Who merchandise in existence, and - unless you know different - utterly unique. So unless you do, Id just like to say to David Howe: You thought those toy Mechanoids were rare! Huh!
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